#I can barely imagine the impact and how it might be. ^^

[quinloki]

CYOA - Silvers Rayleigh

Professor Rayleigh/fem!Reader

Summary: Your grades are shit, and it was really just a bunch of small crap that piled up. You've been able to claw you way to passing grades for most of your classes, but you can't seem to make the mark with your art class.

Professor Silvers is willing to work with you.

CW: Story is dubcon/age gap overall - Bondage, sensory deprivation, exposure, fantasizing about your art teacher

Part 1 -:- Part 2 -:- Part 3

Part 4: NEED

“Mmm…” You press your lips together, trying to beat down the embarrassment that’s already rising up your throat. You didn’t realize when you put yourself in this position that it was going to be so hard to talk. “Pro-Professor?”

“Hmm?” Rayleigh’s intonation is clear enough over the music, and you think he’s behind you somewhere.

“I, uh, I think I zoned out for a moment, and I don’t know how much time’s passed.” You admit.

“Are you sore?” He questions, and you can tell from his voice he’s genuinely concerned.

“Oh, no, no, nothing’s cramping or anything like that.” You admit, shifting your legs a little and feeling how wet you are. “Just, uh…”

You can hear him get up and come over to where you are. You aren’t sure where he is, until you hear his voice by your ear.

“Oh. Seems the design is effective.” His tone is so neutral it’s putting you at ease more than you expected.

“Ah, haha, y-yeah. Super effective,” you agree, swallowing thickly. “M-might have to go to this club after it opens.”

“Oh?” There’s amusement in his voice, and you flinch when you feel the weight of his hands press into the cushion, just behind your ass. “Eager to be in this chair with a proper audience?” 

His voice is velvet against your ear. His breath hot against your skin you can’t help the little shivered sigh that escapes your lips. 

“Audience?” You question, barely able to collect your thoughts as it was and focusing on the thing that stuck out.

“It’s a central piece.” He explains, and you can picture the scene as he speaks. “Set up on a dais. The harsh lights keeping the nude submissive locked inside it warm despite the cooler air of the club. Seating all around as members settle in for a long show.”

You can see Rayleigh pacing around you on this dais, the art room and it’s privacy completely gone from your mind.

“There’s no blindfold for you at that point. The reason is that it’s better that you know how many eyes are on you.” He continues. “There’s nothing to stop someone from doing as they please. Maybe things warm up with some tickling.” 

You can feel Rayleigh’s hand against your toes, holding your foot in place more securely. “Using thin ropes or rubber bands to keep your feet from wiggling away from the sensations.”

He’s got both sets of your toes held in place, and you shake your head whining against the anticipation. “No, please, don’t - don’t tickle me.”

“Oh, I bet you squeal and squirm cutely.” He asserts, his hands settling onto your calves. Gentle pressure from his fingers massages them, while you wiggle your toes and shake the phantom sensations of a tickling session that never happened off your feet.

“Perhaps they start the evening with some impact play, painting pretty red welts onto the backs of your thighs.” His words sink into you and you can feel yourself practically dripping from your slit. “I’ve seen people cum from having their most,” his hands slide down to your thighs, moving toward the wet mess between them. “Sensitive places flogged.”

You swallow thickly, and realize you’ve been practically panting from his descriptions. “I… I can’t-can’t imagine.” The words fall from your lips in curiosity and need, but you can’t ask for it right now. There’s no way. You need to get out of this chair and go take care of yourself so you can calm down and finish modeling for him.

“So many ways to make someone as needy as you cum,” he says plainly. His hands shift and rest on your hips for a moment. “Electro-stimulation, the easiest of which is getting a TENs unit and putting the pads in their proper place.” His hands shift to the front of your lower stomach, and you gasp, your body tensing briefly.

“Perhaps, they just press a vibrator to your clit.” His fingers pull at the lower edges of your abs, and the action pulls your labia apart a little before he releases the pawing grip, and lets his hands wander back up your stomach. “They could ask for a volunteer from the class, a sweet, sun-kissed classmate to kneel before you and eat you out.”

“Ho-lee fuck,” you draw out the word, your toes curling and your legs shivering at the powerful visual he’s commanded into your imagination.

“Or your dom raises your restraints just enough he can comfortably fuck you right there, in front of everyone. Bringing you to orgasm and filling your needy cunt over and over until you’re dripping so much, you’ll be able to hear each drop hit the floor in the appreciative silence that follows.”

“Fuck, fuck, please,” you squirm, breath coming out in short, harried bursts. “Please professor, let- let me out I need to, uh,” your thoughts stutter when he squeezes your sides, hands moving closer to your breasts.

“What kind of host would I be, if I made you deal with this all by yourself?” He questions without waiting for an answer. “How cruel it would be for me to benefit from your being in this position without doing anything to help.”

“But, I-.”

“There’s no one else here.” He says soothingly, hands cupping the underside of your breasts. “You were expecting it, weren’t you?”

“What? I… I was, I wasn’t, I-.” You whimper. You had worn that lacy lingerie set, and you did strip all the way down, it wasn’t too much of a stretch.

“Don’t overthink it,” he asserts, fingers caressing your rock hard nipples with a feather light touch. His lips brush your ear as he speaks. “I can satisfy you however you desire, young lady.”

tag list: @nocturnalrorobin @hellcatsworld @verdantwyrmcat @alwayssassydreamer @fleetadmiralsoffice @anon-germany @hakiofdreams @thecrimsonacademic

[spark-river]

Demons

Headcanon:

Imagine demons having their own gestures for communication and own moral code. As in, they do kill people and it's survival of the strongest, yes. But they also operate on honor. In this case, honor isn't saying you won't kill someone and actually not killing them. No, demons will do that. Honor is sticking to certain things to keep an advantage.

Families will be tight and help each other for their mutual benefit. Honor is having a role and actively doing it. The brothers grew even closer due to this moral view in the Devildome. (And, of course, because they were close in the Celestial Realm and felt outcasted in the Devildome.)

Another thing are deals. While some people don't operate on keeping deals, they often don't get good connections. Having a lot of connections is typical when you're the same strength. People will make deals with you for mutual advantage if you're known to keep them. Meanwhile promises are often bound to magic since demons try to limit being betrayed.

Now to what I actually wanted to talk about. Lust demons that have the same pact human might need to feed on him (physical contact; not necessarily sexual) at the same time. It would make sense for there to be a gesture to signal they're not fighting over 'prey' but instead can feed at the same time. Maybe just an arm tap by the stronger of the two demons. The one that could actually claim the 'prey' for themself if they chose to but instead allows someone else to feed aswell.

This would be especially interesting with Asmo. I can imagine him scaring off a lot of lower demons he doesn't like. But if they're pretty enough or he decided they need to feed (and he feels responsible for them since they're under his domain) he'll tap their arm to allow for simultaneously feeding. That would make for interesting situations. It would even be possible to happen when Solomon introduces his other pactmates to Asmo.

[shuenkio]

Thinking about | 니키 ❤️‍🔥.

Parring : Ni-ki X M!reader

Genre: Suggestive | Cw: 18+, handjob, curse, sexual tension.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A/n: This is a fictional guy! Reminder. And so if you wish to see more of "thinking about -" just hit the comments 😜🥀

Imagine —

Boyfriend Ni-ki who is insanely fond of you, has a cute aggression whenever you breathe. Would take any chances he got to stare at your existence, and noticed how small you are to him, while on the other hand he was taller, older, bigger, in any way one can describe.

Intrusive thoughts win when Ni-ki finally gathers all the courage and shame to ask you for a size comparison, and you know very well what he referred to. Ni-ki has always been a naughty boy, making dirty jokes, Abt this and that which is quite normal. To the point of this, he was asking without saying, but wanted to compare dick size.

Who knows both had the same intentions, curiosity, to seek what underneath each other underwear to see who's bigger. Obviously when you pull it out, it is indeed average, 5 inches hard, not bad yet not as good as your lover. Not only was he massive, Larger than you can imagine, and what surprised you the most was you have never seen such a long length like this before, almost 9 inches. How did he hold all of that, darker shade of his fair skin, the way his balls clench, the sake full of essence was so sexy and hot.

"Love what you're gazing ? Hm?" A smirk was exchanged, a playful grin painted his small face, inviting you to join the ecstasy.

You gulp, nevertheless the desire was too strong to resist. You haven't tried it before, not even seen your boyfriend's cock ever until this moment. A big yes to the answer.

"What if I say— yes..."

"uhmm, gotta let your honest free darling don't keep it bottled up I like that haaa— you are staring too much, tsk why don't you go on and hold it ah it's so heavy" The words is like a scratch in the brain, as it hit you like a wooden log hit the bell. Did he mean it or was he just messing around? The goosebumps shrek and run on your skin, don't convince enough to do it.

"I- stop it.. you're joking! Right? Right?" You reassuring, it could be misunderstood if you just go ahead without a second thought?

Ni-ki got good giggles from it, by the way how you react to this whole situation. He just can't help it, even in this intimate heat he could still find you as adorable as ever. Gosh.

"I want it" Without further wasted, he grabs your wrist and shoves it to careless his gigantic cock. Hell warm, you feel the hot fever instantly by the contact. His cock— it was everything. Big, full, innocent, fresh but also a lil musky scent tho— and the way it's twitching and throbbing so hurt in your palm, It's not very healthy, might as well need a good stem off releasing.

"Shit— that's hot M/n what the fuck did you just do to me I'm so fucking hard— you need to pay the price love, don't leave me hanging" Ni-ki whimpers and melt on the spot with your bare minimum touch, that send thrill down to his spine, boy horny so hard his ass hole was twitches, clenching too .

You were there, witness and savor every moment, second and minute. Cuz this is once in a while to experience this. With all the eagerness and courage from your lover, you quickly act and wrap that tiny palm around his dick, which is barely full round of your palm, since he was too big, at least.

Stroke up and down — feel his tip disappear and expose, his foreskin is another thing to make your dick grow harder, jutting out higher, arousing and fucking shit.

Ni-ki lay his head down low, love this so much, he needs to bite his lip to stop himself to not cum too quickly. It's nothing but stroking, crystal clear— showing how much impact you had on him.

You move that pretty hand a lil more faster— the desire grows even better as Ni-ki arches his spine forward, seeking for more pleasure, He moans shamelessly, still having the strength to stand after all the suffering from this weak-willed.

You can't wait any longer, as you finally find his sweet spot— stroke him harder! Expose that pink glans wider — which was his fucking weakness and the way he'd coming undone without any control left in his veins.

"Oh—ah, wait you're pressing me idiot—!"

He came, the biggest load he’d ever shot, thick and overwhelming. It hit so hard it left him shaking, like his bones turned to jelly, pleasure tearing through him until everything went dark and he blacked out right there, mid-breath.

"I fucking addicted it now...I— I love you Ni-ki" yas.

"hell... Yeah..."

[noctiva]

Okay but imagine Toby doing all that with his partner. NEEEED to be pinned down & ruined by this man. forest floor sex 🤤🤤

BIG OLD CW: this is one nasty ass drabble. cnc, rough outdoor sex, heavy degradation

Count me tf in. Especially if its like full on roleplay <3 likeeee you’re stumbling clumsily through the woods like some protag in a horror movie, blood pumping as your heart races in your chest - your stomach twisting with a mixture of fear and arousal.

Today had given you a thirty second head start, but you’re quickly learning that it didn’t matter at all. He was quick, and quiet. Years of doing this exact thing honing his stealth skills down to a near perfect degree. Almost as if he was gliding over the ground rather than running, his heavy boots barely making a sound as he pursues you. Maybe that was worse than if you could hear him, because you dont realize how close he is until he speaks.

”B-Breaking a sweat yet, lamm?” It sounds like he was right behind you, a few feet away at most. And he sounds so unbothered, so unaffected by the strain of the chase.

You were wheezing, lungs aching with each breath in. Your mouth was dry as a desert from gasping in lungful after lungful of crisp forest air, your eyes watering from the force of the wind hitting them. You felt like you were second away from collapsing, calves screaming every time your feet hit the ground.

And yet Toby, was laughing at you. “Poor thing.” You hear him snicker, closer this time. “C-C’mon, just give up! Y-You’re just makin’ yourself look p-pathetic.”

You let out a strained grunt, your teeth grit as you force yourself forwards more - hair whipping in the wind and sticking to your sweat slick skin. The adrenaline was definitely helping.Maybe, if you kept up this pace you could outrun him.

But, the forest was on Toby’s side. Of course it was. It was his domain after all, you were just a trespasser.

Your foot snags - on a root, on a fallen branch, you don’t even know - but with the speed you were going at it practically catapults you. You yelp as your feet hit the ground, and when your body collides with the dirt, it knocks the wind out of you. You wheeze, your eyes blowing open wide as you ears ring - but through the shock of the impact you can still make out one noise.

Toby laughing. Cackling, actually. Laughing so hard you’d be surprised if he wasn’t doubled over with it, but you don’t have the strength to look. Good thing he helps you with that. Within seconds you feel fingers curling into your hair and holding on tight, getting a nice fistful before he’s yanking your head backwards with such a force it makes your neck crack. “C-Caught you.” He leaning down to snicker into your ear, his voice rotted with sadistic glee. “Shoulda luh-looked where you were goin’.”

All you manage out is a strangled whimper, stars still dancing in your vision as you blink against the darkness. Toby doesn’t seem to mind the lack of response - if anything he might just like it. “D-Don’t you look defeated.” He snorts before letting go of your hair, letting your face smush back into the dirt. “Don’t tell me you a-actually though you were gonna win?”

You let out a soft huff, and he fucking cackles. “Cute, cute.” You feel something hard and heavy pressing against the back of your skull - the blunt end of his hatchet’s handle - before he’s using the leverage to smush your face even more into the earth below you. “Think i-its time for me to claim my winnings, hm?”

You barely have time to answer before he’s on you, dropping the hatchet in favour of slipping his gloved fingers under the waistband of your shorts - tugging them down in one swift move. “No panties?” Course not, that was a part of the game. “L-Lucky me, I caught a s-slut.”

You let out a pitiful yelp when one hand pulls your hips upwards, the other one pressing down between your shoulder blades to force your body into a mean arch - bare ass exposed to the cool night air, and when the breeze hits the slickness between your thighs you shiver. “A-And you’re wet? You’re o-one sick bitch. Soakin’ your fuckin’ shorts just cause of the fear.”

You hear his belt buckle come undone and you squirm fruitlessly just for show, which is immediately met with Toby forcing your body down further into the dirt. The pressure of his weight making all the air leave your lungs in a wheeze. “D-Don’t try and run away now.” His one hand is gripping your hip so tightly you’d swear it was bruising on contact. “F-Freak bitch. Just as fucked as I-I am, eh? Stupid slut’s just g-gonna take any cock she can get?”

”I’m not-“

”Sh-Shut the fuck up.” His voice is downright brutal as he pushes you further down, forcing a whimper out of your lungs. “Lie if you want, b-but your pussy’s tellin’ me the truth.” A wet slap to your cunt has you jolting, a confusing mixture of pain and pleasure blooming between your legs. Harsh, but it stings so good. Burns so good. Just like the stretch of his cock when he finally sinks into you.

Quick, without an ounce of prep, but the amount of slick you were gushing out makes it an easy glide as he pulls you back against him - getting every inch buried in your quivering body. It’s still a shock, still makes your eyes blow open wide. Still has you clawing at the dirt like a wounded animal, dirt caking under your fingernails.

You try to squirm free, but his grip his relentless - and so is the pace he picks up. He fucks you like it’s a punishment, like you had offended him by running away. Snapping his hips into yours as one hand snakes down into your hair again - using it as leverage to smush your face harder into the dirt. Getting some of it in your mouth because your jaw’s gone slack, pathetically trying to spit it out between moans.

“Tryna tell me you d-didn’t want this.” He rasps from behind you. “Fuh-Fuckin’ listen to you. You moan like a whore.”

You’re half convinced your ass is going to be bruised just from the sheer force of his hips slamming into yours, punching moans out of your lungs with each thrust in. Fucking into you like he owned the cunt he was abusing. (He did.) “Nasty fuckin’ b-bitch. Soakin’ my cock even though I might just lob your p-pretty little head off when I’m done.” You tighten up around him, and he’s barking out a laugh. “Oh, you really are fucked. You get dropped as a baby or somethin’?”

You can’t answer. Not with how much of an incoherent mess you’ve turned into. Drool and tears smeared across your face, dirt caked into your fucking teeth as your face drags against the ground with each thrust in. “You g-gonna cum to the idea of me killin’ you?” You let out a gargled whine. “You l-like thinkin’ about me slashin’ your throat wide open?”

Evidently, yes, because you’re cumming mere seconds after the words leave his mouth - tears springing to your eyes from the intensity, your body all but convulsing beneath him as you sob into the dirt.

The depravity of it all, is what sends Toby right down with you.

He slams his cock in deep, nestling right up against your womb when he spills into you - his head tilting back as he lets out a drawn out gravelly groan. His grip on your hips still like a vice, holding you there, forcing you to take every drop.

When he’s finally had his fill, he releases you, and you crumple. Body near limp as your lay sprawled against the forest floor - your mind dazed as you just barely register the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs.

And you’re just about to tap out completely, your eyes heavy and fluttering, but then there’s a hand - calloused and rough, devoid of his gloves, gently cradling your face and tilting it upwards. “S-Still with me, pretty girl?”

All the harshness from before is gone. Fizzled out to make way for honey sweet adoration dripping from every letter. Through your blurry vision, you can just barely make out his face - but you can tell his gaze is fond as his words. “I d-didn’t break you did I?”

“No.” You murmur out softly, leaning into his touch. Toby smiles, smoothing his thumb against your cheek.

“No? Was I t-too mean?”

You let out a little shaky sigh before looking up to meet his gaze, your lips curling into a tired smile.

“Wasn’t mean enough.”

And Toby laughs. Not wicked and sadistic like he did before. Soft and warm, an amused little chuckle that makes your battered body feel gooey.

“Noted. G-Guess I’ll just have to try harder next time.” Then he’s bending down, scooping your limp body up into his arms like you weight nothing. Cradling your head as it comes to rest against his shoulder, leaning his down to press a soft kiss into your hair. “Now, let’s g-get you cleaned up, yeah?”

[lemon-lime-behavior]

Do you have any tips for drawing noses? Sorry this is out of nowhere but I'm wanting to improve on my art, specifically the faces, and it's always the nose I find myself struggling most with.

I really struggle w making it fit the face if that makes sense? Every time I try to add it it just throws the whole face off, especially the eyes, not to mention how to make different nose types and the angles </33

I love your art style so bad, it's so smooth and satisfying to look at and the way you draw noses like it's nbd (and anatomy in general like damn) baffles me so I was just wondering if you maybe had any tricks or not, Ty either way for sharing your art in the first place <33

@extravagav Well I can try! First off thank you very much, I often feel like I still have a very long way to go in regards to proportions and anatomy so I really appreciate your kind words <3

Hokay, so, noses. I do love noses. To start off when it comes to drawing noses I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you the most annoying advice in the world which is just to practice a lot. Find a lot of pictures of noses in a bunch of different shapes from a bunch of different angles and just draw them until your brain melts out of your ears. Pay particular attention though to the nose as a 3D object!

It's of course trickier to do than I'm making it out to be but the more you practice at imagining the nose as a 3d physical form the easier it becomes to make a nose model in your mind that you can rotate like a microwave.

This is my personal very very basic understanding of the nose's construction:

it's like three circles and a taco shell.

Okay so now that you've got a basic understanding of the nose's construction, how to put it in the middle of the god-dang face??

So the funky thing about noses is that they tend to change shape the least out of all our facial features when we're making expressions. Our eyes change shape, our mouths move, our eyebrows, our cheeks, our jaws, they all go all over the place. the nose, however, tends to be pretty stationary and doesn't deform much (save in one important way I'll get to later). So because of all this, and here's my biggest piece of advice when it comes to making the nose fit in the face, I like to draw the nose first! I do a very loose head construction, draw the nose, and then sort of "hang" the rest of the features off of it:

Two very different expressions, same nose!

Now when it comes to noses interacting specifically with the eyes the greatest thing to remember is that the part of the nose that sits between the eyes sticks out farther than you might think, and will likely be obscuring one of them, the extent of which depending a lot on the angle and how pronounced the nose bridge is.

for someone with a pretty flat nose bridge you'll be able to see most of the eye except in a more extreme angle, while someone with a protruding ridge might obscure the eye entirely. but the nose will likely be interacting with at least one eye if we're not facing the character head on. Really making your brain think in 3d is gonna most helpful here.

Finally! The nose being expressive! So the main way the nose plays in to expression is by wrinkling. the muscles that pull up your top lip and the muscles that pull down the middle of your forehead are almost all connected to the nose, so the nose tends to develop a lot of wrinkles whenever brows are furrowed or teeth are bared.

Adding those wrinkles can add a lot of impact in the expression! And not just angry ones neither:

Sooooooooooooooo yeah! noses! They're weird and they come in all sorts of shapes and sizes and they can do a lot to add character to a face and they can also make you want to tear your hair out in big clumps! I'm still learning myself when it comes to noses (and most other things) and I'm faaaar from a master at it, but I hope I've been able to provide at least a little bit of help. If you do use my advice going forward please let me know! Good luck!!!!! (And here's all my nose "headcanons" for the strawhats. The ones who actually have human noses, anyway):

[bandgie]

Can You Really? | Armageddon Event

Request: Patience | Lee Know (SKZ) by anon song!

warnings!: MDNI18+, bdsm themes, fem!reader, paddle use, impact play, pussy spanking, edging, bondage, nipple clamps, pussy eating (implied), blindfold use

1.1k words

Somewhere in the dark, he hushes you. The sound is meant to be helpful. To soothe your jittery nerves and trembling body. But when you’re tied. When your wrists are bound to your ankles, forcing your legs to bend the knee, it’s anything but. You only shiver more.

It doesn’t help that a blindfold impairs your vision. All you have is your hearing and sense of touch. But that damn hushing. It makes you break out in goosebumps. You even arch your back a little, causing the nipple clamps that attach to your collar by the chain tug.

“Ahhh,” you breathe a light moan from the pull. “D-don’t do that.”

Minho giggles and you imagine his bunny teeth poking past his lips. “Do what? I’m not even touching you.”

You might’ve laughed with him, his giggles are contagious, but you can’t even crack a smile when your body anticipates anything and everything he might do. “ ‘m sorry.” You’re not sure why you’re apologizing. “I just…fuck…I need to cum.”

He hums at that. You swear you’re about to orgasm from just his voice when you feel the acrylic texture cool against your skin. The paddle has a small, plastic rectangle Minho uses to slide against your body. He trails it between the valley of your breasts, swooping to one boob and rubbing your nipple in small circles.

Your bud is already so sensitive from the constant pressure of the clamp, but the paddle adds pleasure you thought you couldn’t feel. Small whimpers pass your lips and you will yourself to keep your neck still so the chain doesn’t yank.

However, that’s exactly what Minho wants you to do.

The paddle leaves your body for a second before crashing back down. Your nipple takes the landing, a loud slap sound emitting throughout the room. Pain that you blur with pleasure spreads in your body. You throw your head back so forcefully that the clamps pop off.

“Fuck!” You can feel the tears welting in your eyes. “Oh shhhit. I-you-no-” 

Minho snorts. “Eye you know? Forgetting how to speak already?”

You wish you could be snarky back, but Minho drags the rectangle lower and lower until it reaches your pelvis. All you can do is beg for mercy at this point.

“Y-you’re being mean.” The paddle stops just above your cunt. You swear you can hear his eyebrows pinch together. “I’m being mean?”

Crap, maybe you shouldn’t have said it like that. It would be smart of you to try and take it back, but sense is starting to leave you with every drop of arousal your pussy drips. You nod frantically instead.

“Ah. I think I get it.” Minho’s calmness is unsettling. The paddle travels a few inches lower until it catches your clit. You gasp, briefly thrashing against your restraints from the texture. The object has barely been on you for a second, but you're already wildly thrusting your hips for friction.

Surprisingly, Minho lets you. He keeps the plastic in place while you grind away. Your breasts giggle and you can hear the soft jingle of the clamps near your ears. There’s so much arousal on your pussy that there’s no need for lube when it rubs your clit repeatedly. The paddle grows embarrassingly wet, white cream beginning to collect on the surface. It doesn’t take long before slick sounds start to fill the room. 

Minho tuts annoyingly. “You just wanna cum. Can’t get you to stay still and pretty for me without you humping like a dog.” The paddle presses harder against your cunt. The extra pressure makes you whine. His words do little to stop your hips. You only grind harder, trying to find that right angle to get yourself to cum.

It feels like bliss when you find it - having to plant your feet flat on the bed and ignore how your shoulders scream from being tugged on. Minho’s putting just the right amount of pressure. Your clit catches the paddle just right and begins to feel that warmth pooling in your tummy.

Just as your orgasm builds, Minho pulls away. The paddle leaves your soaking lips and you whine desperately. You can’t even complain about how close you were when harsh slaps land on your cunt. 

You arch your entire back off the bed, thighs still apart as you twitch and gasp.

“I haven’t cum either, you know.” Minho’s voice is cold. “I know how to hold out. I know how to be patient. Something a slut like you obviously can’t understand.” It comes back again, this time, hitting your bundle of nerves right on the spot.

You cry out. Tears seep into the fabric of your blindfold and you can feel your pussy throbbing. “I'm sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Minho tilts his head, though you can’t see. “You promise, huh?”

You shakily settle your hips back on the bed, nodding. “Yes. Yesyes, I do. I can wait.”

Something shifts in the room. That teasing, playful atmosphere turns dark. You can taste Minho’s terrible thoughts in the air. You can feel how he drags the paddle a little more cunningly on your inner thigh.  

He continues to trail it along your leg as he says, “We’ll see about that. I think if I just keep slapping this cute pussy of yours, you’ll just cum anyway.”

“I won’t.” You don’t even believe it yourself, but maybe Minho will buy it.

He laughs. “Right. How about this? You keep your legs open for 10 minutes - just 10 minutes - and if you don’t cum, I’ll let you tie me up.”

Him? Left helpless and deprived like you are? It’s almost too good to be true. A trick clearly disguised as a treat, but you have to ask. “What?”

You feel the paddle back between your thighs. Minho soothes your swollen flesh in false gentleness. “What do you mean ‘what’? Just imagine our roles reversed. Think of it as getting revenge. That’s if you can manage, though.”

Minho would look beautiful bound. His smirking face fading into lost pleasure. His cocky attitude turning needy. Domming isn’t really your thing in this relationship, but you’d be damned to pass up on this opportunity. 

You’re already nodding before the words come out. “Yes. Fuck yes. I can do it.”

When he laughs, it sounds far more genuine this time. Like the idea of you merely thinking you can win is hilarious to him. “Really? Okay then.” Minho pulls the paddle away again and you immediately tighten your body. You wait for the sting, the pain, the blinding pleasure, but all you feel is soft lips.

He giggles into your folds, “Good luck.”

[disneyprincemuke]

fly on the wall * fem!driver

she crashes in her third race of her f1 career, but she's more concerned about its repercussions than the concussion

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: crashing the car

notes: ooooh my god i had to rewrite this 5 times because it wasn't up to my liking initially, and then tumblr was having some issues saving my shit so i lost it?? it's very sad fr

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

"are you alright?" sebastian's voice comes onto the radio.

his eyes are trained on the big screen, cameras focused on the car parked into the wall out of a turn. he couldn't get an answer out of his driver so he had to resort to the third party.

if his assumptions are correct, she would have hit her head on her seat hard at impact. but things like that can lead to so many bigger things that he might not even be prepared for. 

her vision slowly returns, blacking out for a mere second as the car went into the barriers of the baku track.

she had issues with her brakes for a few laps. sebastian had suggested retiring the car if she didn't feel safe, but she pressed on. the issue didn't seem so serious and it seemed manageable.

at first. 

it's a driver error - missing the early braking point to accommodate her already tweaking brakes. she missed it by a millisecond, clipped the wall and got sent straight into the wall.

she sighs, pressing the button on her steering wheel. "i'm okay," she answers shakily, tears now filling her eyes.

"okay, that's the important part. don't think about anything else. i'll see you in the medical centre." sebastian is quick to shut her thoughts down, clearly prioritising her wellbeing and not the car.

"i'm sorry," she sighs, voice shaking and lips quivering. “i’m so sorry, seb.”

this is only her third race in f1, how could she have already crashed out? on a race where she was so close to that podium. it would have been such a monumental moment — a woman on the podium. 

with 20 laps left in the race and her in 5th place, it wasn’t all that far out of reach at the time. yet, here she is causing a yellow flag as she starts to notice the smoke surrounding her. 

"like i said. don't think about anything else."

she sighs to herself as a marshal appears above her halo, greeting her with a soft smile. she nods, letting herself get helped out of her car.

but only one thought eats away at her: she crashed on her third race. what's everyone going to say about her now?

“let me talk,” sebastian sighs, hands up in the air as he tries to calm the girl sitting on the examination bed. he’s barely able to get a word in.

she’s slouched against the wall, purple balaclava in her hands as she traces the thread that holds it together at the hem. the minute he walked in, she looked up immediately with tears in her eyes and a string of apologies.

it hasn’t stopped since he poked his head through the door, cutting him off before he could even ask if she’s okay. 

“do you not see the problem?” she shrieks, eyebrows furrowing at sebastian. “i just crashed out! imagine what the media has to say about my performance today? they’re just going to use this as a reason to justify that i shouldn’t be on the track!”

sebastian drops his hands to his side, deciding that he’d just let her get it all off her chest. it might make her feel better. 

though, it doesn’t make him feel good that she’s continually talking down on herself. he vouched for her for weeks for a reason, and it’s because he believes in her. more than she does in herself, it seems. 

“i didn’t work my ass off my whole life just to be undermined because i’m a woman!” she tosses the balaclava aside, now picking at the loose skin by her fingernails. “i didn’t get this far for everyone to count me out because of one crash! can you fucking believe that shit? it’s a fucking rookie mistake, seb! i’ve been racing for years!”

she drops her hands by her side and groans again, rolling her eyes. “i’ve earned my rightful spot to be where i am! they are not going to care about that!”

sebastian shrugs slightly, overlooked by the infuriated woman across him. he can barely get a breath in before she continues, shutting his mouth immediately as she continues her rampage. 

“imagine the headlines tomorrow! a driver is as good as their last race — i know that! don’t try to sugarcoat it. you know i’m right!” she rambles on, eyes darting all over the room. she’s pushed herself off the wall slightly, clearly flustered over the course of events. 

she avoids sebastian’s eyes, the fear of fully breaking down in front of him prominent. crying over a crash seemed like such a silly thing to do, but there’s no denying how demanding the sport truly is. 

in her short three races in the season and people’s neverending criticism of her abilities, it makes her lie awake at night rethinking her position on the grid. 

following her crash, sebastian hadn’t expected for her to ramble on for this long. he initially thought that the crash would have sent her into a shocking silence, so while her anger is warranted, it was definitely not on his list of things to be ready for. 

“imagine what they have to say about me!” she throws her hands in the air, scratching her head gently. “imagine what they’ll say about you! it’s not going to be good, trust me! i’m a woman in a fucking racing car in a male-dominated sport!”

“hey!” sebastian’s voice bounces in the room, making her lift her head with her eyes narrowed into a glare. 

the sudden movement reminds her of her restrictions, hands coming up to nurse the back of her neck. she feels a sharp pain shoot through her head all the way down to her shoulders. “what?” she hisses, quickly looking down to hide the pain. 

“you literally just crashed head-first into a wall at 250 kilometres per hour! you’re lucky all you got was a concussion and whiplash! it could’ve been worse!”

“if i was lucky, i’d have been able to recover and get on the podium as we discussed! i was already 5th!”

“and you didn’t! that’s okay! you learn from things like these!”

“no, it’s not! i’m already hated as it is!”

“it’s part of the sport! fernando alonso has crashed, lewis has, and so have max and charles! every other big name in formula 1 has had their fair share! you’ll be okay!”

she finally meets sebastian’s eyes, slouching even more as she audibly sighs. he watches her body deflate, leaning back dejectedly. “it’s still different.”

she’s still in her fireproofs. her race suit had to be taken off during her short time with the doctor, hanging on the back of the plastic chair in the small medical room. her helmet sits next to her, underneath the balaclava she’d thrown on top of it. 

her hair is in a loose ponytail with stray hairs poking out and resting on her face. the adrenaline has yet to leave her body, chest heaving as if it’d just been over and beads of sweat still scattered all over her.

“i know it’s different. but everyone else who says whatever isn’t the person behind the wheel, you have to remember that,” he says in a soothing tone, finally coming up to stand next to her. he sighs, putting a hand on top of her head. “and i know it sucks.”

she shakes her head. “no, you don’t. we’re different; our problems are different.”

“the way they used to hate me, and things they say about you are different, yes,” sebastian nods in a low voice, his thumb now tracing circles on her head. “but you still can prove them wrong. you just started driving in formula 1 — you’ll have way more chances to shut them all up.”

“i could’ve already. if i just controlled the car a little better.”

“it’s okay.” he slides himself onto the examination bed, sitting next to her. he intertwines his fingers and rests his hands on his thigh. “everybody crashes at one point in their career.

“let the media say what they want, but not all that criticise you have been in a race before. nobody on that grid thinks you’re lesser than you are just because of what happened today.”

“you don’t know that.”

sebastian just shakes his head, refusing to elaborate any further. he leans back into the wall as well. “oscar is on the way with some snacks for you.”

crashing out during a race is never easy. years before he decided to retire, tapping and crashing out of a race has always been demoralising. it always feels like the first time when he does.

“i don’t need snacks. i need to go back to 4 hours ago when i was still on track for a podium finish in the first half of my rookie season.”

“with your talent, i can assure you that this will not be your only opportunity in formula 1. i will make sure of it, of course. wherever i go, you go.”

the door creaks open, cutting her off before she can throw an answer back as sebastian. “i’ve got your favourite snacks. i also stole a couple of twix bars from your backpack, i hope you don’t mind.”

“well, why’d you take them and still tell me about it knowing i wouldn’t even have given it to you in the first place?” she reaches for the nearest object next to her, yanking it towards oscar by the door. 

“because it was calling my name,” he shrugs, pushing the door fully open to reveal who he’s strung along to the medical centre. 

“i took a packet of haribo,” logan shrugs as he steps in. he flinches when she clenches her fist, scrambling to pull something out of his paper bag. “but i got you a can of sprite to make up for it! don’t be mad!”

her gaze softens when she notices lewis hamilton standing behind her friends, a paper bag hanging on his fingers as he grins at her. 

“how are you, sweetie?” his voice is empathetic and low, giving her a look that she’d seen from everyone she’s passed on her way here. 

she sees lewis and sebastian exchange glances, almost making her roll her eyes again. 

she doesn’t talk to lewis that often, but he has addressed her before when she would trail behind sebastian on the track. she would often greet him softly as she hid behind her mentor, or simply excuse herself when she sees either oscar or logan passing by. 

he’s a role model and the last thing she ever wanted to do was be too overbearing. to see him come to her aid is only a dream come true. 

“i hope you don’t beat yourself up because of that. you drove a brilliant race today,” he smiles. “everybody crashes out. don’t even care what others have to say about you. you did well.”

lewis understands being cast out as a minority. he will never understand the struggles and pressure put on her, but he can at least relate to a certain extent. “don’t even sweat it. you’re now one of the world’s greatest in a fast race car. you’d smoke anybody who would dare challenge you.”

oscar tilts his head. “why would someone random just challenge her out on the street?”

“oscar, shut up,” logan shoves the australian slightly, landing a warning smack on his shoulder after. “let her have her moment.”

lewis laughs but does wave oscar off as he returns his attention to her. “what they say will string, but trust me, this is not the end of the world. i know it feels like it.”

she nods to herself. “okay, hand me the snacks so i can eat away all my pain. i deserve it.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock

[often-daydreaming]

Hobbies

"I don't know. It's only forty dollars."

"Exactly."

Danny grumbled a little as he stared down at the phone squished between him and Bart.

"But there isn't even a picture or anything. Jazz always says those are scams."

"I know but it's so cheap."

"To cheap. Forty bucks for a ray gun sounds like a scam to me."

"What if it isn't though?"

"Alright. Alright. I'm gonna buy it." Danny grinned a little revealing a set of razor sharp canines as he confirmed the purchase. "Even if it is a scam it'll still be a fun little surprise when it arrives."

-_- -_- -_-

"Yes!"

Wally barely managed to duck out of the way as a massive blast of energy tore across the training room freezing the wall behind him. Massive spikes of ice erupting from the area of impact and coating nearly the entire wall in thick sheets of dense hoarfrost.

"It's a freeze ray!"

"I bet we could freeze a volcano with this thing."

Following the cheerful voices still chattering away Wally nearly had a heart attack when he noticed Bart and Danny playing around with a massive cryo-cannon of all things.

-_- -_- -_-

"How could you even afford something like this?" Wally raised a hand to cut off whatever excuse they might have while Dick looked over the cannon. "And don't tell me you bought it cause that thing probably cost thousands."

"Is Tim behind this?"

"We've talked about him buying his friends stuff but this is a little ridiculous."

"But I did buy it."

Danny held up his phone showing them his copy of the digital receipt and shipping number causing both of the older heroes to blue screen for a second.

"What?"

"Well, we bought it but Bart agreed I could use it more since he's a speedster." And neither one of them were actually listening to him which was rude.

Bart nudged his side while they were talking, well arguing about who to call in to try and find out more about the website and Danny quickly caught on to what he wanted as they both vanished, the pair quickly escaping with their cannon while Wally and Dick were still trying to process the fact someone was actually selling highly advanced tech for dirt cheap prices.

Neither boy really cared all that much about any of their complaints since they weren't exactly breaking any rules. They bought it. They even reserved a training room to test fire it and best of all nobody got hurt so they couldn't get in trouble.

Bart just had to talk with Max before anyone else could so they had somewhere to keep everything they planned on buying while deep within the Infinity Realms Technus was handling his new hobby, kind of obsession, not really side hustle since he doesn't care about money with a renewed sense of enthusiasm as another order came in. A custom order at that which made two hole orders now and it looked like they were interested in an oddly detailed police box for some reason.

I know it isn't a good prompt but I watched a short on YouTube about a rat gun and thought it was funny enough to try and come up with something. I can just imagine the two of them giving Wally and Dick grey hairs since they're gonna buy so many weird things from Technus just to see if he can actually build it only no one will ever believe them since nobody is gonna sell a war suit or air shoes for that cheap.

[inkmonster21]

Short n’ Sweet💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Part 04

Series Masterlist

That’s That Me Espresso

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

Two months had flown by in a blur, filled with secret stolen moments, whispered conversations, and hidden touches. Neither you nor Hugh had wanted to make your relationship public just yet, preferring to keep it a small bubble just for the two of you.

It wasn't always easy, though. The secret meetings, the whispered conversations, and the stolen glances were thrilling, but they also came with a sense of frustration. Both of you ached to make it official, to shout it from the rooftops that you were together. But for now, secrecy was your only option.

Coachella week was always a whirlwind of activity. The weeks leading up to the music festival had passed in a blur, filled with endless rehearsals, fittings, meetings, and prep work. Now, it was finally here, and you were in the middle of it all.

The frantic pace of the week kept you running from one task to another, barely leaving you a moment to catch your breath, let alone spend time with Hugh. He was understanding, of course, but you could see the frustration in his eyes whenever you had to cancel yet another date, or could only give him a few minutes of your time.

The sound of your phone buzzing breaks through the frantic atmosphere of your dressing room. You reach for it and read the text from Hugh: "We're here." A rush of excitement and anticipation surges through you, and without a moment's hesitation, you spring up from your seat and burst out of the trailer. You scan the area, your eyes searching for him in the crowd of people milling about backstage. Then, you spot him standing off to the side, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He watches as you make your way towards him, his gaze filled with affection and admiration.

You run to him in your heels, a wide smile plastering your perfectly glossed lips. Hugh laughs and catches you in his arms, the force of your impact causing him to stagger back a few steps before steadying himself. He holds you tightly against him, the weight of your body in his arms feeling completely natural.

He doesn't care if people see. In this moment, all he cares about is you and the feel of your body against his. It had been too long since he had been able to touch you.

“Let me look at you, baby.” Hugh takes a step back to admire you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in your custom-made outfit and boots. A wolfish grin spreads across his face, his eyes burning with desire.

“There she is!” You hear Ryan’s voice yell loudly. Hugh's arms loosen around your waist reluctantly as Ryan's voice interrupts your moment. You look up to see your brother making his way towards you through the throng of crew people.

Hugh's hands slide off your waist, a mix of disappointment and annoyance flashing across his face for a split second before he composes himself. He schools his features back into a calm expression, standing next to you, as Ryan reaches you two.

Ryan envelops you in a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you in a friendly embrace. He gives you a squeeze before pulling back, a wide grin on his face. “Damn, sista. You look amazing," he says, his eyes raking over your outfit. “Can I borrow it?”

You laugh at your brother’s teasing banter. “You might want to wait. Jerry said when the movie releases he’ll make a Deadpool outfit for me. I’ll lend that one to you.” Hugh's eyebrow perks up at your words. "A Deadpool stage outfit, huh?" he says, chuckling. "That'll certainly be something to see."

Hugh's mind is already imagining how you'll look in such an outfit. He glances at you, a hint of mischievousness in his gaze. You look at Hugh with a teasing smile. “Well, I could always ask for yellow.” Hugh's eyes widen, a spark of interest flaring in them at your suggestion. A smirk forms on his lips as he imagines you in a yellow Wolverine stage outfit. "I'd pay good money to see that."

Your moment with Hugh and Ryan is interrupted as someone calls your name, signaling that you need to get ready for the show. Hugh's expression turns slightly grumpy at being pulled away from you, but he keeps his composure. Hugh squeezes your hand before letting go. "We'll be watching," he promises, his voice a low rumble.

Ryan watches Hugh with raised brows. ��What’s going on there?” Hugh's eyes follow you as you hurry off to get ready, his expression a mix of longing and possessiveness. At Ryan's question, he turns to look at his friend, his face casual as he responds.

"Nothing mate," he replies, feigning nonchalance. However, Ryan knows him well enough to see through the act, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a suspicious frown. “Because that-“ Hugh cuts him off, having heard the same sentence over and over. “Your sister. I know, mate.”

You stride onto the stage, your presence commanding the attention of the ecstatic crowd. The air is filled with anticipation and excitement as you confidently raise your hand in greeting, a broad smile on your face. “Hello Coachella!” you call out, your voice carried through the speakers. The response is nothing short of electric, as the crowd roars back in greeting, their frenzy reaching a fever pitch.

“So, we’re going to play a new one, just for you. Get into, yeah?” Your backup dancers now take their places on the stage, their energy palpable and infectious. You turn to them with a warm smile and a friendly greeting, saying, "Hey girls." The energy in the air is electric as you prepare to perform a new song, tailored just for the crowd. The anticipation is palpable, and the excitement is coursing through your veins.

As you turn to face the crowd once more, your eyes catch Hugh's gaze. A pang of emotion ripples through you as you recall the inspiration behind the song – a song that, deep down, still holds a flicker of sentiment for him.

The connection between you and Hugh remains palpable, a living, breathing presence that refuses to dwindle or fade. Your performance is fueled by a mix of determination and lingering feelings, creating a unique and charged energy on the stage.

You announce to the crowd, your voice filled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, "This is Espresso! I hope you love it, Coachella!" The crowd roars their approval, ready to embrace whatever magic you have in store for them.

Your voice takes on a sultry and catchy rhythm as you sing the lyrics, weaving a tale of a love that keeps your lover awake at night, like a potent shot of espresso. The audience is captivated by your words and your performance, their energy feeding off yours on stage.

"Say you can't sleep, baby, I know, That's that me espresso," you sing, your voice dripping with a hint of playfulness. The melody is intoxicating, and the hook is infectious, leaving the crowd craving for more.

Hugh stands in the crowd, watching you as you dance and sing. His smirk is a mixture of wry amusement and a hint of bitterness. The lyrics you sing about keeping someone awake at night, like espresso, strike a familiar chord within him. He easily picks up on the parallels between the song and your own experiences over the past couple of months, causing his smirk to deepen and his gaze to soften.

Your words continue to flow effortlessly as you sing, “Too bad your ex don’t do it for ya, Walked in and dream-came-trued it for ya...” A hint of satisfaction and confidence laces your voice as you paint a picture of someone who exceeds expectations.

Hugh finds himself with a smile he can't quite suppress as he absorbs the lyrics you sing, each word painting a clear picture of your dynamic. The familiarity of the words you sing resonates deeply within him, stirring up a mix of emotions – pride, and an inexplicable sense of longing.

The crowd explodes into applause and cheers as you conclude the song. Your performance has left them breathless and captivated by your electrifying presence on stage. The energy and enthusiasm coursing through the venue are palpable, a testament to the impact you've made with your vocals and stage presence.

Your eyes instinctively drift towards Hugh, who is among the sea of people clapping and applauding your performance. Unconsciously, you smile and offer him a little wave of your fingers, a simple acknowledgment of his presence in the crowd. Hugh's heart skips a beat at the sight of your smile and the subtle wave, the gesture sending a pang of conflicting emotions through him.

He struggles to maintain his composure, trying to feign indifference. But it's clear that he's affected by your interaction, and he fights to quell the emotions swelling within him.

As the applause dies down, your attention is called elsewhere, and the moment between you and Hugh is momentarily broken.

The atmosphere is lively and animated as the night progresses. You're dancing with Blake, the two of you moving together with ease. The music pounds in your ears, the beat setting the rhythm of the night.

Hugh watches from the sidelines, his gaze locked on you and Blake as you move together. A tight feeling of possessiveness stirs within him, but he keeps it in check, sipping on his drink and watching quietly.

Ryan, wearing a pair of flashy glasses, makes his way over to Hugh, a wide grin on his face. He's clearly having a good time, the music and atmosphere of the festival fueling his energy.

"Hey man," Ryan says, nudging Hugh with his elbow. "Why are you standing here all broody instead of dancing?" Hugh looks at Ryan and rolls his eyes, a small huff of irritation escaping him. "I'm not being broody," he replies, his voice gruff. "Just enjoying the show."

Hugh takes another sip of his drink, his gaze flickering back to you and Blake on the dance floor. “That’s my wife!” Ryan says jokingly thinking Hugh was looking at Blake. He’d never. You, however? He’d watch you dance all night.

Hugh lets out a scoff at Ryan's words, shaking his head. Despite his dismissive response, Hugh's eyes are still fixed on your figure on the dance floor, his gaze hungry and appreciative. The way you move to the music, your body swaying in perfect rhythm, holds his attention captive.

Hugh watches you, his eyes following your every move as you dance. He can't help but admire your youthful energy and fiery spirit. You remind him of a storm, passionate and powerful, and he can't look away.

A flicker of doubt momentarily crosses hisfeatures. Can he keep pace with you? He's not as young as he once was, his body not as flexible or energized as it once was.

Hugh's thoughts grow murky as his insecurities take over. He imagines you growing tired of him, his age and experiences no longer holding your interest. You were young and passionate, your youth and thirst for life pulling you towards new adventures and experiences.

What would happen once the novelty of being with an older, famous actor wore off? Would you still see worth in him then?

Hugh's eyes meet yours, and he watches as you shake your hips to the beat of the song. Hugh can feel his possessiveness flare up as he watches you. He wants to be the one dancing with you, the one holding you close, feeling your body move against his.

As if reading his mind you nod your head over. Wavering him over with your little fingers.

Without a moment's hesitation, Hugh sets down his drink and makes his way through the crowd towards you. His eyes lock onto you, the hunger and desire in them growing with every step.

“Dance with me.”

Hugh's heart thumps loudly in his chest as he reaches you, the sound of your voice sending a rush of excitement through him. He stops in front of you, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

"Gladly," he replies, his voice low and gruff. Hugh steps closer to you, his body almost brushing against yours. His hands hover near your waist, itching to touch you, but he holds back for a moment, awaiting your permission.

Your eyes spark with excitement as Hugh moves closer to you, his proximity sending a shiver up your spine. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and the desire in his eyes is impossible to ignore.

You nod, silently giving him permission to touch you. Hugh needs no further encouragement. His hands immediately find your waist, his grip tight and possessive as he pulls you against him, your bodies nearly flush against one another.

You and Hugh move together in time to the music, your bodies molding against one another as you sway to the beat. His hands remain firmly on your waist, his grip possessive but gentle.

Hugh's eyes are fixed on you, his gaze never leaving your face as he dances with you. The combination of your youthful energy and captivating presence has him completely entranced.

As the night wanes on, Hugh, Ryan, and Blake decide it's time to retire for the evening. Hugh's thoughts are consumed by you as he says his goodbyes and prepares to leave.

“You’re leaving?” Hugh looks at you, his expression softening as he nods. "Yeah, we're calling it a night," he replies, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

As you let out a small sigh, your friends call your name, beckoning you back into the crowd. Hugh notices the disappointment in your expression, and a pang of longing hits him.

Hugh reaches out, his hand gently resting on your arm. "You're not leaving yet?" he asks, his voice tinged with a hint of hope. You shake your head, “I’ve got a few more hours left in my gas tank.” You step closer, kissing his cheek. “But I’ll call you tomorrow. Okay?”

Hugh's heart clenches as you step closer, his breath catching in his throat when you kiss his cheek. A mixture of disappointment and desire swirls within him, but he nods, your parting words giving him a glimmer of hope.

"Yeah," he replies, his voice gruff. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." He holds your gaze, his eyes flickering with a myriad of emotions, before reluctantly letting go of your arm.

Hugh's gaze lingered on you, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. He could see how much you wanted to stay and enjoy the night with your friends, and he didn't want to ruin that for you.

However, his jealousy tugged at him fiercely. He wanted you to come back with him, to spend the night in his arms, not out with your friends dancing and having fun.

"Have a good night, darling," he said, his voice tight with restraint. He gave you a small nod, his eyes conveying a silent message before he reluctantly turned to follow Ryan and Blake.

Joe's booming voice cuts through the music, his words drawing your attention as you spin into his chest. You turn to look at him and his husband, and your eyebrows raise at Joe's comment. “We vibe really good.” You smile.

Joe raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a sly grin. "Oh, I bet you 'vibe really good,'" he replies, his voice laced with a hint of suggestiveness. Joe's husband, Alex, chuckles beside him, clearly enjoying the conversation.

You threw yourself into the night, dancing and partying with your friends. But even as you enjoyed yourself, your thoughts were tangled in Hugh. You longed for the feel of his touch on your skin, the taste of his lips against yours.

You woke up early the next morning, the sunlight gently seeping through the curtains as you quietly slipped out of bed. Barefoot, you padded silently into the kitchen and prepared a cup of coffee, relishing the moment of solitude before the day's hustle and bustle began.

As you settle down with your coffee, you pick up your phone from the charger and dial Hugh's number. You take a sip of your coffee as you wait for him to answer, your heart beating a little faster in anticipation. You wait expectantly for Hugh to answer, but to your surprise, the call goes straight to voicemail. A frown of disappointment flickers across your face, and you wonder why he hasn't picked up.

You leave a voicemail for Hugh, your voice cheerful and playful as you tease him. "Hey, it's me, the one and only," you begin, a smile playing on your lips. "Give me a call; I miss you." After hanging up, you place your phone down, still puzzled by Hugh's unusual silence. You hope he'll call back soon, eager to hear the sound of his voice.

Time ticks by slowly, and after an hour of waiting, you try calling Hugh again, but once more, he doesn't answer. Your concern grows, and you wonder if something might be wrong or if he's just busy with work.

A sudden call from Megan interrupts your thoughts, her voice announcing that it's time to get ready for day two of Coachella. Excitement buzzes in your veins, momentarily distracting you from your worries about Hugh.

As you call Ryan, your footsteps echo down the stairs as you exit the rented house and approach the waiting car. "Hey, Ryan," you say when he answers, your voice betraying a hint of worry.

“Whatcha doing?” You ask trying to be casual. If Ryan was able to answer. Why wasn’t Hugh?

Ryan's voice comes through the phone, his tone cheerful. "Not much," he replies. "Just getting ready for day two. How about you?" You pause for a moment, trying to sound casual. "Uh, I've been trying to reach Hugh, but he's not answering my calls. Have you talked to him?" “Yeah, he’s right here.”

"What?" you exclaim, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Fucking busted. “you need him?” Ryan asks. You scoff and hold in your anger. “Nope. All good.” You hang up in fury.

And why was Hugh not answering your calls? His anger flared as he scrolled through the pictures, his eyes scanning each one intently. Seeing another man's hand on your waist ignited a fierce jealousy within him, stirring primal possessiveness deep in his soul.

He had no right to expect you to keep him in the loop about the open relationship, especially considering that you hadn't discussed boundaries and expectations. Hugh's mind wrestled with his emotions, his heart conflicted between his possessive nature and his belief in your freedom to choose.

You step onto the stage, the bright lights surrounding you as the crowd roars with excitement. The energy is electric, and you feel the thrill of the performance igniting within you.

As you sing, dance, and engage with the crowd, you momentarily forget your worries about Hugh. The music and the adrenaline take over, drowning out everything else.

Despite your anger and frustration with him, a part of you longed for his presence. You wished for his familiar face in the crowd, his eyes watching you with that intense gaze. The disappointment gnawed at you, but you tried to push it aside, channeling your emotions into the performance.

You make your way to the airport, eager to leave the chaos of Coachella behind and return home. The fatigue sets in as you board the plane, and you find your seat, settling down for the long flight back. As the plane takes off, the lights of the city fade below, and the world blurs outside the window. You close your eyes, exhaustion seeping into every muscle. Your mind drifts, alternating between the whirlwind of the festival and your ongoing thoughts of Hugh.

You enter your apartment, the feeling of contentment washing over you as you shut the door behind you. Taking a deep breath, you relish the familiar surroundings and the tranquility of being home, savoring the much-needed break after the whirlwind of Coachella.

A frown creases your forehead as you hear the loud knock on your door, confusion flickering across your features. You hadn't buzzed anyone up, so who could it be? With a mixture of caution and curiosity, you rise from your seat and make your way towards the door.

You open the door, peering into the hallway, and your eyes widen in surprise as you find Hugh standing there. Your heart skips a beat as his name leaves your lips. "Hugh?" you repeat, your confusion growing.

He steps inside, his voice quick and urgent as he speaks.

"I had to see you," he repeats, his eyes searching yours. "I need to know... why? I thought we were doing fine." There's a mixture of vulnerability and confusion in his voice, as if he's grasping for an explanation, desperate to understand the state of your relationship.

You’re even more confused now. “What are you talking about? You haven’t been answering my calls!” Hugh rubs a hand across his face, a pained expression on his face. "I... I know," he replies, his voice filled with frustration. "But you were all over some other guy the night after I left. How am I supposed to feel about that?"

He meets your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of jealousy and hurt. Your confusion reaches a new height as Hugh accuses you of dancing with another man. You furrow your brow, completely bewildered by his accusation. "What guy?" you repeat, unable to recall any instance of you dancing with another man.

"Hugh, I don't understand. I didn't dance with anyone," you assure him, trying to understand where his sudden anger is coming from.

As Hugh shows you the photo on his phone, your eyes widen with realization, and a burst of laughter escapes you. There on the screen is a picture of you with Joe, your very much married and homosexual best friend.

Your laughter fills the room, a mixture of relief and amusement overwhelming you. You couldn't help but find this mix-up both ridiculous and hilarious.

"Hugh," you say between fits of laughter, "This is my best friend - Joe. He's gay and married! That's his husband in the next picture."

You take the phone from Hugh's hands, swiping through the pictures, showing him the proof of your friendship with Joe.

Hugh's face flushes with embarrassment as he realizes his mistaken assumption. "Oh," he mutters, the redness on his cheeks revealing his chagrin.

He takes a moment to process the revelation, suddenly feeling rather foolish for jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst.

“Wait let me understand this. You got jealous and just decided to not return my calls?” You scoff. “And I’m supposed to be the immature one.” Hugh's expression shifts from embarrassment to defensiveness. "Well, what was I supposed to feel when I saw pictures of you with another man?" he retorts, his voice a mix of frustration and justification.

He averts his gaze momentarily, feeling the weight of his hasty decision. "I just... I got carried away. I acted immaturely, I guess," he concedes reluctantly, his pride stung by the realization. You smile at him softly and pat his cheek. “Yes, you did, honey.”

Hugh pouts slightly at your gentle rebuke, his ego dented by your words. However, the affectionate pat on his cheek and the endearing term "honey" soften his initial reaction. "Yeah, yeah, I did," he admits, his tone now carrying a hint of sheepishness.

There's a hint of satisfaction in your eyes as you observe his jealous behavior. Deep down, a part of you feels reassured by his possessiveness. It confirms that he truly cares about you and has feelings on a deeper level. “You were jealous.”

Hugh reluctantly nods, unable to deny the truth in your statement. "Yeah, I was jealous," he admits with a mixture of reluctance and vulnerability.

His expression softens, his gaze meeting yours. "I don't like seeing you with someone else. It... it drives me crazy."

Hugh can feel the magnetic pull between you, the heat of desire coursing through his veins as your nose brushes against his. Your lips are tantalizingly close as you speak, “why don’t you show me?” His breath hitches in anticipation.

A low growl escapes his throat as your request registers in his mind. "Show you, huh?" His voice comes out in a low, gravelly tone.

In a swift motion, he grabs you, pulling you onto his lap. His lips crush against yours, hungry and demanding. You respond eagerly, opening your mouth to the invasion of his tongue, your hands threading through his hair.

He breaks the kiss, panting, and whispers against your lips, "You're mine, remember that. Only mine."

"Always," you breathe, your voice hoarse with desire. "But you know I love it when you remind me."

Hugh's hands slide under your shirt, his rough palms caressing the softness of your skin. He cups your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples through the lace of your bra, making you arch into his touch.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Knowing I'm the only one who can touch you like this."

You nod, unable to form words as his fingers work their magic, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. He unhooks your bra with practiced ease, baring your breasts to his hungry gaze.

"Such perfect tits," he groans, bending to take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue teases the sensitive peak, alternating between gentle licks and hard sucks that have you moaning and writhing on his lap.

His hands travel lower, fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts, and in one smooth motion, he rubs against your wetness.

"Fuck, you're soaked," he grunts, his fingers delving into your pussy. "All for me, huh?"

You nod, your head thrown back as his fingers find your sweet spot, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"Say it," he demands, his voice hoarse. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," you gasp, your body trembling on the edge of release. "Only yours, Hugh. Please..."

He chuckles darkly, his fingers moving faster, driving you closer to the brink. "Not yet, baby. I want you to beg."

You whimper your need for release building to an almost unbearable intensity. "Please, Hugh," you plead. "I need you inside me. Fuck me, please."

With a growl, he lifts you off his lap, standing to tear at his clothes. You mirror his actions, shedding your clothes in a rush, until you're both naked, skin flushed with desire.

He guides you to the bedroom, pushing you onto the bed, and follows, his eyes blazing with possession. He positions himself between your spread legs, his cock hard and throbbing, poised at your entrance.

"Tell me again," he demands, his voice thick with need. "Who do you belong to?"

"You, Hugh," you pant, your hands gripping the sheets. "I'm yours." With a rough thrust, he buries himself deep within you, claiming you with one powerful stroke. You cry out, your body welcoming the invasion, stretching to accommodate his thickness.

Hugh sets a relentless pace, pounding into you, his hips slamming against yours. You match his rhythm, rising to meet each thrust, your bodies slapping together in a primal dance.

"That's it, baby," he grunts, his hands gripping your hips. "Take it all. Show me how much you want me." You cry out his name, your nails digging into his back, urging him deeper. The room fills with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your moans of pleasure.

As he fucks you, he leans down, his mouth capturing a nipple, sucking and biting gently. The combination of sensations drives you wild, your orgasm building to an explosive peak.

"Hugh, I'm gonna come!" you scream, your body tensing.

"Do it," he growls, his pace increasing. "Come all over my cock, baby." His words push you over the edge, and you shatter around him, your pussy clenching and releasing his throbbing cock in waves of ecstasy. He follows, groaning your name, as he empties himself deep inside you, his hot cum mingling with your juices.

You lie panting, your bodies slick with sweat, as the echoes of pleasure fade. Hugh collapses beside you, pulling you close, his hand stroking your hair. "You’re all mine," he whispers, his voice satisfied. "Always remember that, baby."

You smile, contentment, and love flooding through you. "Always yours, Hugh."

[joocomics]

1k followers celebration event — ⌞⌗ xdh drabble⌝

𓂃⠀𓈒 jungsu x fem!reader x jiseok

genre: smut ( 18+ ) ── 0.5 words

request: “spank her harder” + sensory deprivation

✎… sub!reader, sensory deprivation, spanking, pet names, impact play, implied edging

( event masterlist | xdh masterlist )

Your night ends with a twist... and what a twist that is. Wrists bound tight by Jungsu’s belt, suspended from the hooks above Jiseok’s bedroom door.

It often goes like this - Jungsu’s tie, Jungsu’s belt, but it’s always Jiseok’s room that turns into the playroom.

“Will you keep counting for me?” Jiseok asks as his fingers ghost along your spine - a gentle reminder of what’s about to come.

A teasing, silent way to stretch the anticipation while your butt cheeks, painted by reddish hues, wait for the new portion of strikes.

“Yes,” you murmur softly, focusing on his calculated steps.

You can’t see him from the tie covering your eyes, but you imagine him shirtless, abs and arms flexing every time his hand lifts up to smack you. Jungsu, on the other hand, you imagine manspreading on the bed, with crisp sleeves rolled to his elbows.

He’s always the quieter one from the two. The observing one.

“Good.” Jiseok mutters with a hint of amusement.

That’s when you hear Jungsu speaking up for the first time in a few minutes. His usually soft voice drips with evident tension.

“Spank her harder.”

His words are followed by a moment of silence.

Your lips part from the maddening anticipation way before the strike even lands. It’s a lingering thrill that brings your attention back to the amount of pleasure that has formed low in your core; to how far you are from feeling it burst.

That’s what makes it so exciting, though.

A moment passes before a sharp deliberate slap falls on your cheek, just below the last.

“Sixteen,” you breathe out.

The stinging warmth has your fingers turning into fists, your bare pussy clenching around air.

Your heart quickly stumbles in your chest when you catch Jiseok’s unapproving tsk behind your shoulder - due to your heightened senses, you can also hear all the little grunts he suppresses with his lips.

“Are you already forgetting the rules, pretty?”

Considering the absolute mush your brain has turned into, it’s no surprise you fumbled.

“You start counting when we say.” He reminds you.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” You murmur, hips shifting against your will.

In the meantime, you make out slow, steady footsteps. Firm, slightly rough fingers settle under your chin.

“You were doing so well.” Jungsu’s warm breath lands hot against your lips. “Think about the reward you’ll receive after this, okay sweetheart?” His hand lightly taps your cheek, and you nod in response.

You swallow desperately. His sudden presence makes each and every part of you - touched, and untouched, - ache even more.

Suddenly, he speaks again, still so closely.

“You know what… why don’t I count for you?”

On the right, Jiseok hums approvingly.

“Can you do that for me?” Your voice softens.

“Yeah, love,” Jungsu says with voice laced in promises, “you don’t make a sound, alright?”

He gives Jiseok a signal and begins counting.

This time, he remains beside you, roaming his fingers in lazy patterns, and whispering into your face as each number slipping from his tongue calls for a new hit - from Jiseok’s warm, relentless palm.

“You look so good like this,” he sighs, aiming for the next smack. “We might keep you here all night.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

♡ taglist: @sweet-dreaming-girl @zelinkcrossing @bahng-chrizz

[lostatsea-blog]

oh brooo you‘re edging us😞😞😞

Hopefully this one will put an end to that. I hesitated in the last part because I am not 100% confident in writing these parts of the stories so feedback is welcome.

Battle Lines Part 4

Lucy Bronze x Ona Battle

Warning 18+ adult content

Ona’s POV

The rest of the night seems to be my introduction into what it is like to be Lucy Bronze’s date. She is so attentive and thoughtful; constantly checking to make sure I am comfortable. She seems to be in permanent contact with me. Her fingers brushing my hand and my arm throughout and each touch making the hairs on my body stand on end. There is a fire building in my blood, consuming my every thought; no crush has ever had this impact on me before. After the plates from the main course have been cleared, Lucy meets my eyes. There is a twinkling behind the deep green which tells me she knows exactly the effect she is having on me and that it had been her intention all along. Gently trailing her hand down my palm, she speaks is that heavy Northern English accent.  

“Do you want a dessert or do you want to head home?” She asks and I feel disappointment settle in my stomach. I am not ready for this night to end. In light of recent misunderstandings between us, I decide it is best to just voice my thoughts.

“I am not ready for the night to be over” I admit and watch the smile that spreads across her face.

“I said nothing about the night being over; I said get out of here” she winks and all the moisture in my body seems to have pooled between my legs. How can this woman be so charming.

“So, what did you have in mind?” I ask but I already know how this night is going to end.

“Well, I have a nice bottle of white back at my place; I thought we could share it and get to know each other a little better” she suggested. I nod my agreement and Lucy is quickly signalling for the cheque. I go to grab my wallet but she brushes me away; she will not let me pay anything towards this meal. We quickly grab out jackets and head outside to wait for our uber. The atmosphere between us is charged and we haven’t even kissed yet. Her hand is on the small of my back as we walk towards the door and I feel like my skin is on fire. As I turn to speak to her, I catch her struggling with her crutch and I am once again filled with shame and have to divert my eyes.

“When are you going to stop letting the guilt eat away at you” her voice cuts through my self-depreciation and I snap my eyes back to hers “You didn’t intend to hurt me and you have to let it go now”

“I have never lost control before” I admit and realise quickly that those words might not have been the best choice. A flirtatious, suggestive grin lights up her face and I know immediately she is thinking of us in a less than platonic situation

“Lucy!” I sold affectionately

“What?” she laughs “You can’t say something like that to me and expect me not to imagine all the ways I want to see you lose control” A gasp leaves my throat as they register her words and I am left in no doubt as to the direction of this evening.

Lucy’s POV

The uber home was filled with tension but not the bad tension that had existed between us before. It was the sort of tension that let you know, very soon you would be tearing each other’s clothes off. Throughout the drive, I rested my hand on Ona’s knee drawing lazy patterns on the inside of her thigh. Deciding to test the waters a little, I let my hand travel higher with each pattern. I could see the muscles in her throat as she swallowed against the moan she wanted to release. She glanced sideways, giving me a look of warning but all it did was make me bolder.

We had barely made it inside my apartment when Ona pushed me back against the wall and attached her lips to mine. Her kiss was hungry and demanding and let me know that she was not going to let me get away with my actions on the ride home. After a few intense minutes she pulled away her chest heaving

“That wasn’t fair Lucy” she scolded but there was no bite to her words

“And yet, it got us here” I replied, leaning back in and capturing her lips. I managed to turn us (even with my crutch) so that her back was against the wall. The moan that was ripped from her throat when I pushed my body into hers was all the encouragement I needed. My free hand tangled in her hair, scratching gently at her scalp and again I was rewarded with a deep, guttural moan; god this woman was doing something magic to me and I felt an urgent need to take her. My hand trailed from her hair and down her neck. I stopped briefly at her pulse point, which was thudding wildly beneath my hand, before continuing my journey down her body. She moaned even louder as my hand brushed over her breast, I could feel her nipple beneath my fingers so knew she wasn’t wearing a bra. I could not resist giving her nipple a gentle tug and was rewarded with a press of her groin into mine. The clattering of my forgotten crutch as it fell to the floor briefly broke the heat between us as Ona was reminded of my injury.

“Maybe we should get you off your feet?” she suggested

“Not a chance” I grinned “I am not done listening to you whine and moan; I am going to take you here and then we can go to the bedroom and I can have you again and again and again until you beg me to stop”

Ona’s POV

“I am not done listening to you whine and moan; I am ging to take you here and then we can go to the bedroom and I can have you again and again and again until you beg me to stop”

I think my heart has literally stopped beating as Lucy’s words register in my brain. Her hand, which had been tugging gently at my nipple continues its descent downwards and even if I wanted to, I am unable to stop my hips thrusting into hers. Her nails drag over my abs sending shots of electricity straight to my core and all I can do is hold on to her to stop myself from crumpling to the ground. Her hand cups my centre and I grind down trying desperately to get more friction. If I don’t feel her hands on me soon, I might just combust. Within seconds, she has the button of my jeans open and her hand slips inside my underwear. A deep grunt escapes her lips as she feels the wetness and she presses me harder into the wall

“Fuck Ona, you feel incredible” her fingers quickly find my clit and start rubbing in tight circles

“No teasing Lucy, not for this one” I whimper and she nods in understanding. Her fingers slip from my clit to my entrance preparing me for what I hope is to come. She does not disappoint and very quickly I feel the protrusion of her fingers at my entrance. A whisper of ‘please’ is all she needs to slide in. The stretch of her digits feels incredible and I pull her in even closer burying my face in her neck as she begins to pump her fingers all the while keeping her thumb circling my clit. I don’t know if it is the tension that has existed between us for months or just Lucy’s natural skill but I know I am not going to last long. I can already feel the heat building in my belly. She is hitting all the right spots and I have no idea how I am still standing. I don’t even want to imagine the sounds I must be making. Without warning she changes the pace of her fingers; she slows down but presses harder and deeper finding that elusive spot inside. None of my previous partners have ever been able to find that spot but this cocky English woman has found it first try wile fucking me up against a wall in her hallway.

“I’m so close” I manage to whimper out still clinging desperately to her strong frame

“Let it go baby” she whispers in my ear the use of the term baby does something that I am not read to unpick “Let go of all the tension”

I am swept up in a wave of pleasure that starts deep in my core and takes over my entire body and just as my orgasm hits I feel her lips close to my ear “I am so sorry for ever making you feel like you were not good enough – you are perfect”

Tears flood my eyes without permission as the tension leaves my body and I slump heavily against her. Lucy holds me tightly in her strong arms grounding me in a way that I have been missing since moving back to Barcelona. She is making a soft humming noise against my ear as she waits for me to compose myself. I wipe furiously at the tears not wanting her to think I am weird but she grabs my hand in hers and instead kisses away each tear.

“I’m…..” I begin to say but she quickly shakes her head

“No, you are not finishing that sentence” She gives me the most incredible smile I have ever seen before the cocky grin replaces it “We are not done with this night” ….

There will be other parts to this including what happens when they get to Lucy's bedroom. I would love to get your ideas on what you would like to see in the next part of this story.

[globalnewscollective]

Trump’s Tariffs Are Coming for Your Healthcare—Here’s What That Means for You

You might not think much about tariffs—just another political buzzword, right? But what if I told you that Trump’s new trade policies could make your next doctor’s visit way more expensive? Or that the medication you rely on might become harder to find? According to Forbes (source), that’s exactly what’s happening.

What Does This Mean for You?

Higher Medical Bills – If hospitals have to pay more for medical equipment and supplies, guess who’s covering the extra cost? You. That means more expensive doctor visits, surgeries, and even emergency care.

Pricier Medications – Many drugs and essential ingredients come from overseas. Tariffs make them more expensive to import, so your prescriptions could suddenly cost a lot more.

More Drug Shortages – If imports slow down or become too expensive, some medications might just disappear from pharmacies. Imagine trying to get an important prescription filled and being told, “Sorry, we don’t have that in stock.”

A Struggling Healthcare System – Rural hospitals are already barely surviving. Rising costs could shut even more down, leaving entire communities without access to emergency care.

What’s at Stake?

This isn’t just about inconvenience—it’s about real lives. If you have a chronic illness, the price of your life-saving medication could skyrocket. If you get into an accident, your hospital bill could be even more unaffordable. If you live in a small town, you might lose access to healthcare altogether. This is a direct attack on your right to affordable medical care.

The Bigger Picture

These tariffs fit into a broader pattern: policies that make it harder for everyday people to access basic needs. From cutting social safety nets to weakening labor protections, Trump’s economic moves consistently benefit the wealthy while leaving the rest of us scrambling. Healthcare should be a right, not a privilege for those who can afford it. But unless we push back, these policies will keep making it harder for young people, low-income families, and marginalized communities to get the care they need.

What Can You Do?

Talk About It – Most people don’t even realize how tariffs impact their daily lives. Share this information.

Call Out Lawmakers – Demand that politicians stop making your healthcare even more expensive.

Vote Like Your Health Depends On It – Because, honestly? It does.

Trump’s tariffs aren’t just hurting big corporations—they’re hurting you. The question is: Are you going to let it happen?

[getaapologist]

The Tension and the Terror.............Part VI

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length in a later part)

Summary: Letha looks out for Caracalla. Geta plays healer and they are interrupted, oh so rudely.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, 18+ only

Word Count: 2.9k

Part 6 of 15

[ Part V ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hope you like this! There's just something about a reserved, yet teasing Geta. I can imagine it so well. I don't think I would be able to rein myself in. I would probably already have been killed, honestly.

“I do love it when they flood the Colosseum,” Caracalla confided, leaning over to where Letha sat at his side, sharing his wide chair. He was hardly sat in it anyways, constantly getting up to lean over the ledge, watching the sharks as they circled in the water. She had hardly spared a look Geta’s way since his dismissiveness that morning. Besides, she had a new job now. 

She didn’t know what she’d do if there was a reprisal so soon, but she could try her best. It wasn’t as if she had any choice. She tried to ignore the pain radiating from her shoulder. No thought was given to her pain by anyone around her, so she said nothing of it. She wasn’t sure what could be done anyway, and she wasn’t about to ask Caracalla for some of his supply. She didn’t like the way it made her feel.

“Do you like the games, Letha?” Caracalla asked, leaning back in his throne, quite close to Letha. It didn’t bother her. But it would probably be an entirely different story if it were his brother instead. Just imagining it made her feel foolish. At least this time she could blame the heat on her state.

“Not particularly, Emperor,” she admitted.

He grinned. “Well, I think you’ll like this one. You might recognize some of them.”

Something about the way he said it struck her as particularly mean, despite his innocent tone. As if it didn’t occur to him that she could be distressed at that fact. And she was distressed. Though most of them were prone to act out their baser impulses, there were a handful that still knew how to behave around a woman. She hoped she didn’t see them here today.

As the boats appeared, any effort to converse with Letha was abandoned. She watched Caracalla react to the promise of bloodshed much like any other Roman she’d encountered. With unabated glee. He was childlike, but there was nothing innocent in the way he cheered for every fallen man, every spray of blood. He didn’t cheer for any particular side, he cheered for the violence. She now understood what Macrinus told her. That he was bloodthirsty.

And the sound. The sound. She grit her teeth, attempting to hold in the way she wanted to react to the fighting as it crashed all around her. She was dangerously close to getting lost in her memory. She could just barely begin to make out her home in the distance, the trees behind it on fire, when–

The impact of the arrow hitting the wooden post of Geta’s throne shook Letha out of her spiral. Her hands were on Caracalla in a heartbeat, seizing the shoulders of his robes and hauling him down below the wall of the Emperors’ box. Her shoulder screamed in protest at the sudden motion and forced a cry to leave her throat as she bashed it into the floor.

It was followed soon after by fearful noises coming from the smaller Emperor. His hand gripped her forearm tightly and she could tell he was on the verge of panic. As the guards moved in she helped him get up, keeping  a hand on his back to press him lower to prevent him from being an easy target as they fled the box. 

Once they were inside the innards of the Colosseum she eased her hold on Caracalla. She still stayed firmly at his side just in case someone thought to take advantage of the chaos. She had lost sight of his brother, annoyed with herself at the stab of concern that surfaced at the thought of his safety.

“This way, Emperor,” General Tegula instructed, gesturing to a small passage just behind him. Caracalla paused, feet planted in the flow of Praetorians and senators as they moved briskly past them to the public exit. “Emperor Caracalla?”

Letha moved around him, eyes searching, trying to figure out what was wrong. He looked a lot like how she’d felt back in the Colosseum before the chaos unfolded. Trapped in her mind. Terrified.

“Emperor Caracalla, we have to go back home,” she soothed, talking to him like she might a small child. “I’m sure Dondus would like to know you’re safe.”

“Where is my brother?” he asked, light eyes swimming with unshed tears. 

“Through here,” Letha explained, pointing to the doorway behind her. “I’m sure he is so worried about you. Let’s not keep him waiting any longer,” she smiled, holding a hand out for Caracalla to take.

“Hurry,” Tegula pleaded, urging them on through the passage. 

Caracalla finally gripped her hand and she gently tugged him along behind her through the descending passage, her other hand holding up the hem of her skirts so she didn’t stumble in the low light. She didn’t have time to think about the pain in her shoulder. She would check the damage done later.

Seeing light at the end of the sloped walkway, she prepared herself for the bright sun. Guards waited there to usher them to the safety of a waiting carriage. She gently held Caracalla back, stepping into the carriage first to check the occupants. She could feel him keeping a grip on the skirts of her dress. 

Sticking her head in, Letha locked eyes with a stressed Geta. “My brother?” he questioned, reminding her of her new responsibility. She reached down for Caracalla’s wrist and pulled him inside, moving aside so he could step past. The twins relaxed at the sight of each other, unharmed. 

Letha sat down on the firm wood bench closest to the opening as her adrenaline finally abated, the flaring of the pain in her shoulder now radiating down to her elbow. 

The two men sat beside each other, Geta listening intently as Caracalla relayed the horrors he’d just experienced. It was an intimate look into their relationship, one Letha suspected almost no one got to see. Though they were the same age, Geta was far and away the older brother out of the two. A natural protector. She could see genuine comfort in Geta’s face as Caracalla’s panic eased into a frustrated rant at the games being cut short. 

Letha nearly slid down to the floor as the carriage began to move, quite quickly at that. Her quick reach for something to grab onto caused her to groan, her hand reaching for her shoulder. 

“Are you alright, Letha?” Caracalla asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, holding her hand out to urge him to remain in his seat. The last thing they all needed was him hitting his head on something.

“Letha, you’re bleeding,” Geta spoke.

She was confused. 

“Your hand,” Geta urged, concern in his eyes. 

She turned her wrist and was confronted by her palm, stained with blood. She reached for her shoulder despite the throbbing pain and moved the fabric aside, realizing that the cloth covering was soaked through with blood. She let out a frustrated sigh and desperately hoped she hadn’t ripped any of the stitching. She didn’t think she would survive another visit from the healer and his needle.

Geta kept his eyes on Letha, unable to help himself. Even after they arrived home and she led Caracalla back inside, she still put aside her discomfort to follow his brother to his chambers. As Caracalla led her down the hallway, Geta could hear her assuring his brother that she would visit the healer as soon as he was safe in his rooms. It stirred emotions in Geta that he wasn’t prepared for. 

Under normal circumstances it would be him leading Caracalla back to his rooms, easing his concerns after such a stressful day. How Caracalla didn’t have an outburst at any point after the stray arrow lodged into the wood beside Geta’s head, Geta couldn’t say. It had been a while since the last one, and Letha had not yet experienced a true fit. She shouldn’t be so good at it, but she was. It was undeniable. 

Geta felt uncertain. With his usual responsibility to his brother taken up by Letha, he was left with nothing to do. He supposed now was as good a time as any to visit the bath, to truly relax and make the most of his free time before dinner arrived and he had to host their guests. An exhausting responsibility, one he wished he could delegate to his brother. But alas, his brother surely didn’t want it either.

His conversation with Macrinus had eased his concerns about her. Slightly. He had been lured in by her initially, and was captured by her show of violence, but the idea that he could become a target of it gave him enough pause to back off. This softness she had for his brother, however, warmed him right back up to her. He wanted to speak with her, to tell her he was grateful for her protection of his brother. To tell her she could never leave them now.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Emperor, but I still don’t know my way around this place. Where is my room?”

Geta looked up and felt almost startled by her presence, as if his quiet thoughts had summoned her. “Letha…”

“Yes?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow.

He forced his distracting thoughts out of his head. “Shouldn’t you be looking for the healer?”

She glanced away, down to the marble floor. “I’m not eager to find myself at the mercy of that needle again,” she admitted. 

Geta smiled slightly, mischief blossoming in his chest. “Come with me.”

She looked up sharply, confusion in her eyes.

“I’ve tended to a great many wounds,” he explained. “I can check on it at least.” 

He could see the questions she wanted to ask, could almost hear them asked in her voice. No matter how pleasant, the implication of them would still cut deeply. He didn’t want to discuss it and hoped she wouldn’t push it.

“I don’t want to take up your time, I’ll go see the healer,” she excused, stepping back. 

“But you don’t know how to get there,” Geta teased. A flutter passed through his stomach at the sight of her eyes narrowing. “Come,” he grinned, “I’ll show you around.”

She let out a sigh before taking a step towards him, her hands gesturing ahead as if to urge him to start walking. He didn’t need to be told twice, holding her gaze for a moment before turning around and strolling deep into the palace.

Letha couldn’t breathe, didn’t dare move as Geta’s ringed fingers hooked under the fabric over her shoulder. She could feel him staring her down as he lowered the strap, revealing the deep maroon-stained bandage. She figured he probably liked this, her unwilling to meet his eyes, floundering quietly beneath him. She felt like she was back in that warm room, shrinking under the weight of his teasing. 

His fingers pressed at her tender skin, making her wince. He lifted the bandage up off the wound. The pain forced her eyes shut as she bit back the groan travelling up her throat. It stayed stuck against the stitches, the dried blood holding firm.

“Hmm,” he paused, “water,” he muttered, leaving her side. She allowed herself to look at him now, watching him as he approached a table across the room where fruit and pitchers sat, waiting to satisfy any urge he might have for sustenance. He returned with a cup of clear, refreshing water. 

She looked up at him, having reached the threshold of quality time with Geta required to be comfortable. She found herself slowly getting used to the weight of his presence. It could be dangerous. 

“Do all Emperors receive the training of a healer, or just you?”

The corner of Geta’s lips quirked up at her effort at banter. “I’d hardly call it training. I can summon him if you wish,” he offered, meaning the healer.

“Do you have a needle over there?” she asked, glancing over at the tray placed on the small side table pulled up to his hip. She did find it highly curious that Geta, of all people, would have these things in his rooms. She didn’t think it was appropriate to ask why.

He wrung the scrap of cloth out slightly before pressing it to her shoulder and the stuck bandage. “No.”

She winced, but tried to hide it, for his sake. “Then I think I’ll be okay in your hands,” she answered.

“My hands, hmm?” he teased.

Her face grew hot at his suggestive tone. “That’s not what I meant.”

He let out a chuckle, unable and unwilling to hide his amusement from her. “It’s hard to know for sure, you know.” He pulled the bandage away, leaning down to inspect the wound and make sure the stitches were still stuck tight. He was relieved to find that they were. “After our prior encounter, I can’t assume you to be wholly innocent, Letha,” he grinned.

Letha turned her face and met his eyes, alarmed to find just how close he was. His grin stayed stuck firm on his lips, his warm brown eyes fixed on hers, until, for just a split second, they dipped lower, to her lips–

She looked away, her heart racing. Surely not. Surely he was just being kind, thanking her in his own way for her efforts to protect his brother. There could be no other motive. She wouldn’t allow herself to consider the alternative.

“So shy,” he teased, returning to his full height, perusing the contents of the side table until he found what he was looking for.

“Or maybe you’re intimidating,” she shot back, stilling as his fingers returned to her skin, gently smoothing a fresh bandage over the wound, loaded with some sort of healing poultice. She felt her wound grow cold for once, instead of angry and hot. It relaxed her.

He got low again, his face near hers as he pressed the edges of the tacky cloth down on her skin as gently as he dared. “Do I intimidate you, Letha?”

She met his warm, suffocating eyes. He was in control, had her right where he wanted. Where she wanted. She couldn’t lie to herself. As much as it went against everything that brought her here, she couldn’t help the way he made her feel. It was so unlike the reaction she had to anyone else. She wasn’t supposed to like him, she was meant to hate him and his brother, but with every moment spent in their presence she just felt more and more at ease. 

“Yes,” she admitted, her breathing unsteady, those snakes making themselves known again, swirling around inside.

She was a traitor. A traitor that let her eyes fall to his full, pink lips, watching as they parted slightly before he began to smile.

“Emperor Geta,” a soft, cloyingly sweet voice sounded from somewhere behind him. 

Letha again turned away, sliding out from under his fingertips. She hurriedly pulled the strap of the dress back up over the wound, ignoring the stinging as she sought to get as far away from Geta as possible while she still could. The interruption served as a rogue wave, washing icy water over her, putting out the heat Geta had brought forth. Drawing her ire.

Something close to fury overtook Geta’s features. It wasn’t directed at Letha. He quieted it before turning around to find out who saw fit to disturb him in his chambers.

“Lyra, I did not send for you,” Geta spoke, seemingly surprised.

Letha wanted to leave the room, reminded of their relationship instantly as Lyra brightened under his gaze, despite his tone.

“I heard about what happened, I just wanted to check on you,” she smiled, ignoring all signs that she might have interrupted something. Letha thought it was probably intentional. She wasn’t stupid. Or blind. “There’s still time before dinner, so I thought…” She didn’t need to finish her sentence.

“Excuse me,” Letha finally spoke, wanting to be anywhere else than in the presence of the tall Emperor and his lover. She strode for the doorway Lyra had just passed through, trying to remember Geta’s directions as they walked the halls earlier. 

“Leave me,” Geta ordered Lyra, a bit cold. Letha left the room before she could hear any more.

As she retraced their path back to where he said her rooms were, her face burned. Embarrassed, she pushed through the door quickly and fell back against it, forcing it shut. 

“Fool,” she scolded. “Absolutely stupid, stupid.”

Her rational mind returned now that she wasn’t suffocated by Geta’s aura. She needed to get a grip on herself, fast. She couldn’t allow herself to get entangled with him. What would happen when he realized she was sent there with a purpose? That the man she’d killed had been paid by the man that owned her? It wouldn’t matter what she might feel for him. It would be her death. Even now she was descending into a well, every moment spent not killing the twins was another board being laid over top, hammered in harshly.

If she wasn’t going to kill the Emperors, she had to come up with a solution to Macrinus. If he knew she wasn’t going to complete her task, she would surely be top of his list to be murdered with all she knew of his plans. She was in more danger than she knew how to handle. Would the Emperors ever forgive her for her choices, for considering their deaths? She expected not.

[ Part VII ]

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Now don't throw tomatoes at me but I'm actually really excited to finally see malleus again— I've always loved malleus since we met him in the story, but I'm also sooo curious about what's gonna happen next,, I'm wondering the obvious thing, about whether or not we might get a parralel scenario like what happened with the KoD and silver will have to "slay" malleus or at least be the one to land a killing blow, but I also saw a really interesting post focusing on how magic is a manifestation of dreams and deep desires and imagination,,,, in that case, I may (VERY delusionally) hope that Yuu finally gets to be a major part of the story for once??? Even reading the novels, there HAS to be something bigger for yuu— while the idea of crowley simply being an incompetent airhead is fun and more comfortable, haven't you thought that meybe he pulled them into this world deliberately??

All to say, what if at some point, Yuu somehow manifests magic in a very dire moment ?? You know lol?? Agh idk. I just want yuu to finally make impactful choices but that IS too much to ask, as far as we can see for now,,, (but hey, that part leading up to ace getting is UM, and the convo between him and yuu,,, it *does* give one a sliver of hope, doesn't it? :') )

Don't worry, no tomato throwing here! 😅 I may not care for certain characters, but I’m not going to shame anyone that does. You’re free to think however you want about Malleus!

dbjsvsJcwhj My personal feelings about him aside, I am actually glad he’s finally relevant to the main story again. He’s missed out on so much of his own book OTL In the time he’s been gone, the fandom has been left to speculate about both his and Lilia’s potential death flags. I really doubt Twst will have the balls to kill off one of them, but it would be cool to at least see Silver delivering the final blow to knock some sense into (not necessarily kill) OB Malleus.

Yes, it’s true that Silver states in the recent update that magic was originally considered “a miracle borne of strong desires from the heart.” But 💦 I don’t think that means Yuu would randomly manifest magic in the final fight?? It feels more like a “let’s save the day with the power of friendship” to me, but I could of course be wrong.

I understand being frustrated that Yuu’s participation in the main story seems to fluctuate a lot, with most of their activity being books 3, 4, and segments of 1, 6, and 7. That’s not much, especially considering how long books 6 and 7 are. Sometimes (even in events) it feels like Yuu is barely there, as most dialogue options don’t involve different reactions from the characters. Even Yuu's quest to find a way home is barely addressed or taken seriously until early in book 7. Yuu hasn't gotten "real" development unless you count them realizing their Disney dreams are prophetic in book 5, taking the initiative to save Grim in book 6, and that dialogue option about them being worried they're not contributing + the related convo with Ace in book 7. All very short moments in the grand scheme of things. And honestly, I think that makes sense for the kind of character Yuu is. A blank slate, a self-insert, an outsider that's easy to exposit information to, someone with which to view the story, characters, and world through. Yuu is primarily there to be the POV character, the lenses, the camera that we see Twst through. They're not really meant to be a traditional "main character". It's possible that Twst gives them a slightly bigger role at the very end (especially with what went down in the dream in book 7), but I doubt it will be a huge triumphant moment where they and they alone save the day or deal the final blow in a crazy act of self-sacrifice. Twst has always been a story that puts the NRC boys first, while Yuu is the observer.

I've noticed that the complaint of Yuu not doing a lot in the story comes mainly from English speaking fans?? And I guess that makes sense, given how western culture tends to emphasize independence and standing out. They want Yuu to reflect that. They want to be the ones to make a difference. I don't even remember ever seeing these same comments from the Japanese speaking fans; it's definitely a less common sentiment for them. The Japanese fans seem pretty content with Yuu being an observer and taking on more of a minor or supporting role. Again, this fits in with what I understand of many eastern cultures. They're demurer, not wanting to stand out too much from the crowd and instead prioritizing group harmony. Very interesting cultural difference to note!

It's a common theory (with many variants) that Crowley intentionally summoned Yuu to Twisted Wonderland for his own nefarious motives. People found him pretty sus right away due to how he seems to not put in any real time or effort into investigating a way to send Yuu home. Plus, there's that ominous opening monologue of his to consider. However, I don't think he summoned Yuu because of their (potential) great magical capabilities. The Mirror of Darkness tells us that it doesn't sense a shred of magic in Yuu, and Leona smells zero magic on them (though that could be because it hasn't technically manifested yet, as some fans claim).

The idea is that Yuu is supposed to be plain. They are supposed to be magicless. Why? To humble the NRC students and to show them that asserting yourself violently or with great magical power ISN'T the way to go. To show them value in strategizing (which Yuu does in the prologue by helping Grim aim at the ghosts), of camaraderie. What does it say about the story's themes if Yuu, the person who is supposed to be showing them the worth of mundane things, is suddenly... "secretly ultra-strong, actually”/“just like you guys” (even if it's only a temporary hope-fueled magic)? It might contradict what has already been set up. It also breaks the self-insert appeal of Yuu, since developing magic would also mean Yuu would later have to further develop things like proficiency in magic, best/worst subjects, and an unique magic/signature spell... meaning Yuu HAS to become better "defined", thus losing their blank slate nature. This would surely upset some fans who deeply project onto Yuu, have a Yuusona, etc.

Yuu can still make an impact on the characters and the world--and they have, judging by how much closer the boys are with each other--without having to be The Most Special One or like everyone else. I think it undermines what Yuu has already managed to achieve to say that they haven't made an impactful choice at ANY point in the main story when I believe they definitely have. Yuu made the choice to sign the contract with Azul. Yuu made the choice to approach Malleus. Yuu made the choice to go against Crowley's orders and go retrieve Grim from S.T.Y.X. Yuu made the choice to get Leona’s help with the contracts. Yuu made the choice to stand with Adeuce against Riddle in book 1. Yuu made the choice to let the VDC/SDC tribe train at Ramshackle. Yuu has done a lot, and all without needing to seize the spotlight or to do anything big and flashy. I don't think Yuu needs to be big and flashy. There is pride to be had in simplicity and being humble too. There is pride in representing the 90% of humans in Twisted Wonderland that are ordinary and without magic.

(An aside: so if Yuu wasn’t able to manifest magic in many other extreme instances, does that mean their desire to save Grim in book 6 wasn’t “enough”? That their desire to save Ramshackle, their one and only home in this world, wasn’t “enough”? It implies that Yuu didn’t wish hard enough for these other things they clearly care about and want.)

I think a good way to give Yuu a decent role while staying true to their design as a blank slate would be for Twst to really lean into the whole "beast tamer" aspect that was introduced all the way back in the prologue. This would work well with their deep connection to Grim as well. Assuming that Grim ends up being the final OB... We could easily have the NRC students and staff on the ropes, Malleus at his wit's end after exhausting himself with his own OB, a rampaging Grim about to end it all. And then... one lone figure shakily rises from the rubble and confronts Grim. One human. Magicless, defenseless. A human lost in an unfamiliar world, a human who believes they're useless and don't contribute much. A human who is always in need of being protected by others. But not anymore. This time, it's Yuu's turn to protect what they love--their friends, this world they've come to love, Grim. Ace and Deuce yelling at Yuu to not be stupid, to get back--but Yuu just advances, calling out to Grim and begging him to stop. And maybe it's Yuu's wish that rallies everyone and/or gets OB Grim to hesitate. That's when they can strike. Is that corny? Yeah. Does it sound like the ending to a Disney film? Sure. But it still grants Yuu, a magicless human that is supposed to be there to teach everyone about friendship, cooperation, and humility, their big moment to shine. The best of both worlds, I'd say.

[spnjediavenger]

Big Brother Duties (Charlie Cox x reader)(platonic)

Title: Big Brother Duties

Type: very long one-shot; charlie cox x reader (platonic), daredevil cast x reader (platonic)

Warnings: mean fans, self-doubt, feels, too many author’s notes, potentially ooc charlie cox? (Ngl don't know him as well as some other actors but i hope i did him well)

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: mean fan comments that could maybe be considered bullying? Idk what triggers people when it comes to things like that so i just wanna be thorough in my warnings

Spoilers: MAJOR DDBA SPOILER!!!

Notes: i imagine reader being young adult age in this - like low 20s and they're filming S2 of DDBA

this idea sprouted from a dream i had where i was an actress in daredevil (not sure who i was playing but i was close with charlie cox and vincent d’onofrio and it was amazing). Also got help from an actual GQ article that was written from a recent interview with charlie cox. I can't believe he wasn't their first thought for matt murdock in born again. Like…that should be illegal. 

Might have similar tones to ‘I See You’ if you've read it

As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism and requests are welcome and encouraged!

Disclaimers: i do not own daredevil, its characters, or plot

Word count: 3316

Summary: Charlie Cox takes his on screen duties as a big brother just as seriously  off screen. 

Matt had 3 men on him; he took hit after hit but barely felt their impact through his Daredevil armor. He finally had one knocked down and kept fighting with all his might. His sister, Emily, had her own hands tied - literally, a mere 20 feet away. A man gripped her arms behind her with a knife in that hand and held a gun to her head as he watched the fight with a smirk on his face. 

Emily breathed heavy through her flared nostrils as she was forced to watch her brother fight these men. 

“Come on!” the man behind her yelled. “You gonna let a man in pajamas beat you?!” 

The hand holding his gun moved away from Emily’s forehead as he was yelling. She stomped on his foot so he bent forward and  took the opportunity to throw her head back into his face, earning a shout. She spun away as his grip on her was released. 

“You bitch,” he growled, glared daggers at her. 

Emily backed away as he stalked after her until he struck her in the face with the butt of his gun. 

Matt froze as he heard Emily’s gasp and a body fall to the ground. 

“Cut! Alright, Y/n freeze where you are - we’re gonna do the next scene in just a second here,” the director said. 

Y/n stayed in her spot, laying on her side on the ground. She opened her eyes and turned them up to look at Charlie. He threw a gang sign her way, making her chuckle and roll her eyes. He smiled and turned his attention back to the director. 

After correcting a fight move from one of the stuntmen, he reiterated to Charlie what was going to come after. “Ok, Charlie, you’re gonna listen for her heartbeat, make sure she’s still alive, finish your fight, we’re gonna have a couple gunshots, then you go get her to safety so you can take the rest out.”

Charlie nodded. “Alright. How do you want me to get her out?”

“Do what feels natural.”

“Alright. Got it. Let’s do it.”

“Action!”

Matt tilted his head. Heavy panting, loud heartbeat. The man who was holding Emily. Slightly quieter heartbeat, steady. Emily. 

Matt allowed some relief to fill him before he deflected a punch aimed for him and took the last adversary out. He ducked to miss a gunshot from the man that had Emily, who had approached Matt. Matt did a flip, kicking the man to the ground and knocking him out. Taking a deep breath, he ran over to Emily. A couple more gunshots rang out. He would have to get her out of the way before finishing things.

He put one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders before hoisting her up and throwing her over his shoulder. 

 Y/n shrieked as she was thrown over his shoulder, not expecting it. 

“Who just screamed?” Charlie asked, American accent still present, spinning around as if looking for someone. “Emily’s unconscious!”

“Charlie!” Y/n yelled. 

Charlie groaned and bowed his head in faux irritation before looking back towards her. “Y/n, why did you break character? The direction was to get you!” The British accent returned.

“Yeah! He told you to get me to safety! Not throw me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes!”

People around set, Charlie included, laughed. 

“Ok ok, guys. Reset to Matt running to get Emily. And Charlie - carry her bridal style,” the director said. 

Charlie smirked but nodded. He set Y/n down on her feet, chuckling as she punched his arm. He ruffled her hair and walked back across the set. Y/n swatted at his hand but smiled and layed back down on the ground to wait for ‘action’ to be yelled as one of the makeup artists quickly added some red to her cheek from the gun ‘hitting’ her. She adored the whole cast and crew of Daredevil and always felt at home with them. And she and Charlie shared a special bond. Like siblings on screen and in real life. Her thoughts were interrupted at the call she was waiting for. 

Taking a deep breath, he ran over to Emily. A couple more gunshots rang out. He would have to get her out of the way before finishing things.

He put one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, gently lifting her up into his arms. He ran as fast as he could into a room off the large open one they were currently in. He set her down on the ground out of the line of fire and placed a hand on her cheek. 

“Emily. Emily, please wake up, sweetheart,” he begged. He used his free hand to shake her shoulder and sighed when he heard her sharp intake of breath. 

Emily squeezed her already shut eyes before opening them and looking up at Matt. “Matty?”

Matt sighed again and nodded. “You’re ok. We’re both ok. Let me finish this then we’ll get you home, ok?” Matt cut the rope holding her hands together before helping her sit up against a wall. Emily nodded. Matt pressed a kiss to her forehead before heading back out into the fight. 

“And, cut!” the director called. “Ok, that’s a wrap for today! Great job everyone!”

Y//n grinned and jumped up from her spot. She jogged out of the room she was in only to be jump-scared by Charlie standing around the corner, making her scream. 

“Dammit, Charlie!” she yelled, punching his arm again as he laughed at her expense. 

“Hey, I had to take the opportunity!” he defended, hands raised. 

Y/n scoffed and shook her head but couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her face. Charlie smiled and threw an arm around her shoulders.

“So what’s my little sister got going on tonight?” he said as they walked off set. 

“Not much,” she shrugged. “Just gonna hang around the apartment.”

“Want to come over and say hi to the kids? They miss their aunt Y/n.”

The girl smiled. “Polite pass for tonight. We need to be here early tomorrow and I know if I go to your place I’ll be out too late.”

“Fair enough. You be safe on the way home, alright?”

“Of course,” Y/n smiled. Charlie planted a kiss on her head, they shared a quick hug, then went their separate ways. 

Later that night, Y/n had eaten, taken a shower, then plopped on the couch in her living room to wind down before bed. She turned the tv onto something random and fixed her eyes on the screen until her phone buzzed and broke her attention. She furrowed her brow as she grabbed it. The screen lit up with a notification

@ y/fIGacct sent you a post

Y/n tapped it and unlocked her phone, going straight to Instagram. In the chat with her friend, a post was there, and under it, her friend said: Thought you might want to see what people are saying…

Furrowing her brow deeper, she tapped the post - one Marvel posted about the series premiere of Born Again, and went to the comments, her lips pulling into a frown as she read them. 

Emily Murdock is such a waste character. They just forced her in to have another female lead. 

We don’t need her. And @ Y/nL/n isnt even that good

Agreed. And she doesn't even look a little like matt. Couldn't they have found someone closer?

Yeah seriously. They expect us to believe she’s related to that greek g-d? I don't think so

Her entry in the OG series was stupid enough. Why’d they have to bring her back to DDBA?

Y/n’s shuttered breaths sawed in and out as she read comment after comment. She dialed her friend’s number and got her on the second ring. 

“Hey, Y/n,” F/n said sadly. 

“F/n, how long has this been going on? Have you seen other comments like this?”

“I don’t know. I know audiences were kinda split in season three but it’s really started taking off again since the double episode premiere of Born Again. I’m so sorry, Y/n. But you can’t listen to them, ok? You’re amazing!”

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut as tears leaked from them. She slowly shook her head as she listened to her friend. That’s easy for her to say, she thought. 

“Y/n?”

“I have to go, F/n,” she said, not giving her the chance to say anything else before hanging up. Y/n dropped her phone and her hand flew to her mouth to keep herself from sobbing. She had no idea fans hated her so much. Coming in at the end of Daredevil season 2 was huge for her and had brought on an amazing opportunity with Born Again. Was she really that bad? Did the directors make a mistake bringing her on? Was she worthy of sharing the set with Charlie and the others? Did she belong with them?

The next day of filming, Y/n arrived and tried to stay out of sight as much as possible. She knew the others would be able to tell right away that she was off and she really didn’t feel like having a heart-to-heart right now. 

When she was out of wardrobe and makeup, she snuck onto set where they ended the day before, sending a quick wave to the director. 

“Has anyone seen Y/n?” Charlie’s voice echoed. 

She slumped against the wall, ready to shoot, as she heard the director say how Y/n had just passed him by. Y/n heard Charlie’s footsteps echo closer and closer until he was standing in the doorway, Daredevil costume on and helmet in one hand. 

“Y/n, love, what’s wrong? Where’s the usual flying hugs you give every morning?” he asked, his attempt at a lighthearted smile on his lips to mask his concern. 

Y/n bit her lip to keep it from trembling and shrugged. “Just a little tired. A friend had me up last night. I’m just ready to go,” she said simply, hoping she came off apathetic. 

Charlie went to speak but stopped when the director called for him. He looked at Y/n one more time and nodded. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

Y/n acted her best smile and nodded, then Charlie was on his way. When he was out of sight, Y/n sighed and rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes to fight off the sting at the back of her eyes. Don’t cry, don't cry, don't cry, she thought. This is literally the worst place. The scenes outside the room went on and soon enough, it was Y/n’s turn. 

Emily’s head felt fuzzy as she sat up against the wall. She moved a hand from her abdomen to hold her head but noticed it was wet with blood. She looked down and saw blood seeping through her shirt and she let out a whimper. 

@ Y/nL/n isn’t even that good. 

Emily’s lip wobbled as she heard what were hopefully Matt’s footsteps jogging towards her direction. 

“Ok, Em. We need to get out of- are you bleeding?” Matt cut himself off when he got the taste of copper in the air that wasn’t as strong before. He dropped to the ground next to her and removed one of his gloves, hovering his hand over her until he felt the heat and moisture from the wound on her side. 

“He-He must’ve cut me when I fought to get away,” she said. 

Y/n cursed herself for the stutter but figured it could play out as pain. 

Matt bowed his head for a moment before hearing sirens approaching about a mile out. “Ok. Ok, you’re gonna be fine. We just need to get you out of here, ok? I just need you to stay awake for me. Can you do that, beautiful?”

They expect us to believe she’s related to that greek g-d? I dont think so.

Between the thoughts in her head and the feelings she was playing out for the screen, her own emotions elevated and she let out a sob, immediately throwing a hand up to cover her mouth. 

“Y/n?” Charlie sobered up real quick, dropping everything Daredevil in a split second. 

“Cut!”

“Y/n, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Charlie asked again, gently gripping her shoulders, trying to get her to look at him. 

Y/n just shook her head and stood quickly, trying to run off but failing when Charlie grabbed her and wrapped her in his arms. Pathetic sobs escaped Y/n’s lips as she trembled in Charlie’s arms. He looked over his shoulder and saw the director signal the others to head out to give them a moment. 

“You’re ok. You’re ok. Let it out. It’s just us, the others left,” Charlie said, his voice soft. The girl let out a mix between a cry and a sob, prompting Charlie to rub his hand over her back, quietly shushing her. When she began to quiet down a bit, he used one hand to pull his Daredevil mask off and drop it to the ground before moving it back to Y/n’s head. “C’mon, love. Do you wanna go to your trailer?”

Y/n nodded against his shoulder and let him wrap an arm around her shoulders and lead her to her trailer, avoiding any passing glances as they went. 

Once they were safely inside, Y/n turned to wipe the tears off her face but Charlie grabbed her arm and spun her around. “None of that,” he said. “You don’t need to hide. Not from me. Please tell me what’s going on. I can’t help if I don’t know, yeah?”

Y/n let out a shuddery sigh and sat on the couch, Charlie sitting next to her. 

“I was honest in a way when I said a friend had me up last night,” she said, not wanting him to be mad at her for keeping things from him. “But there was more to it.” Charlie kept his eyes on her but stayed silent, letting her speak as she was ready. She felt another wave of tears coming as she relented, “She…she sent me one of Marvel’s posts about Born Again and mentioned the comments…most of them were the fans being split on how the first episode started but…there were others about me…not good ones…Charlie…they hate me,” Y/n sobbed, finally looking into his eyes. “I-I knew there were some sparse comments when I first started in the show but not like this. They-They aren’t just talking about Emily; they’re talking about me, Charlie. About how I’m not that good and-…”

“And what?” Charlie probed gently. 

“And how I don’t look like you. Someone said how they can’t be expected to believe I’m related to you on-screen because you look like a greek g-d.”

“Ok, first of all - I definitely do not look like a greek g-d. Unless my last name is Hemsworth I don’t think I could get remotely close to that,” Charlie said, earning a teary chuckle from Y/n. “And second of all - I think it’s time I teach you a very important lesson: you cannot listen to people like that, ok? I know it’s easier said than done but you have to tune them out. If you can’t avoid them altogether then tune them out. They’re just haters,” he added with an american accent, making Y/n laugh again. “And if that’s not enough, I’ll remind you every. Single. Day how amazing you are, alright?”

At this, Y/n looked down at her hands before looking up at Charlie through her lashes. “Am I though?” she said meekly. “What if the directors made a mistake with me? What if I’m not talented enough? If enough people hate me, who’s to say I deserve to be with the rest of you?”

“I’m gonna stop you there,” Charlie interjected. “You are good enough. You hear me? And do you wanna hear a secret to prove it? When the producers and directors were getting together for Born Again - I wasn’t their first thought for Matt.” Y/n’s eyes widened and her head shot up at this. ”That’s right,” he said with a somewhat sad smile. “So if you feel like you don’t belong, I almost wasn’t even here in the first place. Besides, you’re the most talented person I’ve ever met - especially so young. Vincent, Elden, and Deborah would all agree with me. In fact, they’ve all said it at some point. And you are beautiful. Anyone who says otherwise is just self-conscious about their own looks and they’re trying to make themselves feel better by picking on someone they think is superior to them.”

Y/n mustered a half smile. Charlie had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Get your phone out. Pull up instagram,” he said, holding his hand out. Furrowing her brow, Y/n did as she was asked then handed her phone over. Charlie went through until he found the post she was talking about. He scrolled a bit, he and Y/n remaining silent as he did so. 

“Here,” he finally said. “If our words aren’t enough - don’t stop on the negative comments. Keep scrolling until you find the replies that defend you.” When Y/n looked at him confused, he smiled a bit as he read the replies out loud. “Emily Murdock is not a waste character. I think she adds even more depth to Matt’s character and gives him family to hold onto. Plus big brother!matt is amazing. His sister brings out a side of him we otherwise would never get to see

“Not good? You're joking right? As if foggy’s death wasn’t painful enough, @ Y/nL/n’s/Emily’s reaction GUTTED me (I cried too, @ IGuser)

“Yeah seriously - she’s amazing

“You must have confidence issues to pick on someone so talented #TeamEmilyForever (Charlie laughed as he read out the hashtag)

“If anything, @ Y/nL/n is the g-ddess (no offense Charlie Cox) (non-taken, mate)

“I live for the playful scenes between Cox and L/n. So sweet; makes my heart swell (mine too, @ IGuser2)

“There are so many more good comments than bad, Y/n. Believe those. Because you are enough. Ok?” Charlie handed her phone back and squeezed her hand for good measure. 

Y/n’s eyes teared up, but in happiness this time. She gave him a real smile and nodded. Charlie pulled her into a hug that she happily returned. 

“Thank you, Charlie,” she whispered. 

The man smiled and gave her an extra squeeze. “Anytime. I take my duties as big brother very seriously, you know,” he joked.

Y/n chuckled and pulled away, wiping the last of her tears. “Don’t I know it. You tease me just as much if not more often than you comfort me.”

“Don’t act like you’re not the same!” he defended, chuckling a bit. 

“I’m not nearly as bad as you,” Y/n grinned, glad the difficult part was over. And it was just her hanging with Charlie. With her brother. 

“Oh yeah? You wanna see how bad I can get?” Charlie challenged in his Matt Murdock voice. 

“Oho gosh no!” she laughed, jumping from her seat on the couch, only to be pulled onto Charlie’s lap and locked in his arms. 

The laughter that filled the trailer after was a sign to the rest of the cast and crew that everything was ok now. They were thankful but not as much as Y/n was. If there was one person who could always fix things when they were down, it was Charlie. Her brother on screen and off. He always took his big brother duties seriously. And he always would. 

[thebrightsilverlining]

P5X and the Importance of Community

There’s something interesting about how P5X is handling confidants. Obviously, I’ll have to wait until it gets officially localized, but there seems to be a running trend in regards to community.

See, X is different from P3,4, and 5 in that the protagonist did not move before the start of the game. There’s no adjusting to some new environment and meeting a bunch of people there. Wonder has lived here all his life. So making friends isn’t about becoming a part of a new place. Instead, it’s a signifier of Wonder’s change in attitude.

Wonder’s whole deal is that he was just kinda coasting through life. As the lyrics of Ambitions and Visions points out: “Act like I don’t care. Why even bother? That’s what I though then. Just another bluffer.” He was a go with the flow guy who couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort whose bitterness and lack of ambition was the reason why things weren’t going the way he wanted in life. A fact that he didn’t really want to admit.

But that changes when he becomes a Phantom Thief and he begins to actually put effort in and start caring. The whole idea of the Phantom Idols is that Wonder’s connection to the Sea of Souls allows him to see the potential in people. To see who they could be. Meaning he’s learning to shed his previous ambivalence and see people for who they really are and who they could become.

This becomes even more impactful, because he’s not in some new place with new people. He’s in his home, with most of the people having already been living there alongside him. So it’s not a matter of the world changing. It’s his perception of it that changes. It’s him realizing that the people he’d written off are actually pretty amazing.

So one of the confidants is his next door neighbor and his mom’s friend. Someone who was always around but he never bothered to really get to know. It’s his mom’s friend and they’re both old, what could possibly be interesting about that? They probably talk about whatever it is middle aged women talk about. Boring.

Except she’s not. Once he starts paying attention he finds out that she used to be a fashion designer. And she was good at it!? Not to mention those photos of her when she was younger. Who knew that Mrs. Tomiyama was COOL?!

And hey, did you know that she also has a nephew? Yeah, he’s only like a year older than you and he wants to be an actor someday. Gonna star on tv in Featherman and make so many people smile. If you’re getting to know Mrs. Tomiyama you should probably get to know him too. Who knows? You might even become friends.

And hey, what about that girl that’s always helping her father with running the local bar? You must’ve passed her by a million times by now and you’ve never spoken a word have you? Did you know that she wants to be a nurse when she grows up? Or that she’s planning to simply stay home instead so she can take care of her father with his back problem?

Or what about Yaoling Li? Did you even know that a college student from China had moved into the neighborhood? Right next to the Fujikawa residence! You know, where Yukimi lives? She’s your age, why did you never even try to become friends? But maybe it’s time to remedy that, especially if you’re both gonna befriend Yaoling, who is still struggling with the signage at the local market.

It’s all about the community. That community that’s always been there, that you just never bothered to pay attention to. The people so unique and varied, with dreams and aspirations and lives so complex you can barely imagine. That you could get to know, so long as you were willing to put in the effort to do so. And maybe, if you did, you might just find your life is better for it.

It’s a concept I find incredibly interesting, and one I really hope is done well in P5X. Because, if so, it might just be my favorite handling of confidants/social links yet.