#Powerful LED Spotlight

[jcmarchi]

North Korea Demonstrated a New Tank - Technology Org

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/north-korea-demonstrated-a-new-tank-technology-org/

North Korea Demonstrated a New Tank - Technology Org

North Korean leader Kim Jong Un led a military demonstration featuring a new battle tank.

The new tank from North Korea. Image credit: KCNA

This event marked another display of strength from the isolated nation as South Korea and the United States concluded joint drills. The news was reported by the state media KCNA on Thursday that 

According to KCNA, Kim expressed “great satisfaction” with the tank’s performance during its debut display on Wednesday, highlighting its striking power. Technical details about the new tank have not been disclosed.

The event, described as a “training match,” aimed to assess the combat capabilities of tank crews and familiarize them with various tactical missions. The report detailed such statements as how the heavy tanks swiftly maneuvered through challenging combat scenarios, delivering powerful strikes and breaching strong defense lines with ease.

In a photograph released by KCNA, the leader of the secluded state was seen with his head peeking out of a tank, reportedly driving the tank himself.

The mock battle took place as the joint annual drills between South Korea and the U.S., known as the Freedom Shield exercises, were scheduled to conclude on Thursday. These drills, the first since Pyongyang annulled a 2018 inter-Korean military pact aimed at reducing tensions in November, involved a joint live-fire exercise conducted at a training base in the city of Pocheon over the past week, as stated by South Korea’s army.

The live-fire drill featured tanks, armored vehicles, and FA-50 fighter jets, according to a statement from the army. North Korea has consistently condemned such military exercises as rehearsals for war, while Seoul has consistently portrayed them as purely defensive.

Written by Vytautas Valinskas

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[aamircoeur]

just distressed (not a damsel) - ultraman, ken sato.

getting familiar with your robot-like saviour after his nth time of saving your life.

PART 2.

cw: brief mention of blood. sfw, female reader. UNEDITED

"hello again, little ma'am." the huge character looked down on you, his glowing eyes acting as a spotlight as he held you on his palms. a purple-colored, lizard-like kaiju had destroyed the top of the apartment building that you were staying at, and luckily, ultraman was there to save you.

only for, like, the sixth time this month.

"not causing trouble again, are you?" ultraman teased, and you just rolled your eyes, making the being laugh.

the first time was when you were on your first (and after that incident, also the last) date with a guy you met at a bar. he took you to sumida river for some sight-seeing, and a kaiju appeared from underneath the waters, targeting those who were at the bridge. out of fright, the people screamed and scattered like ants, including your date who left you to flee for his own safety.

upset, you took a moment to process the happenings around you while you stared at the back of the guy as he ran. without noticing, the kaiju creeped from behind you in an attempt to catch you off-guard and eat you for its lunch (you assumed). fortunately, ultraman was there in the nick of time, blasting the kaiju with his powers that came from the moon or something, you thought. you really didn't understand how he or his powers worked, and you really couldn't bother learning either.

being the only person to stay on the bridge, ultraman approached you after sending the kaiju back to where it emerged from. "uhm, hi," he said, looking down on you as he was wiping debris off of his shoulder. "you okay?" he tilted his head.

"yes, i am. thank you!" you shouted at him, hands cupped to both sides of your cheeks.

he nodded. "okay, get home safe, little ma'am." he said before walking away. you looked at him as he made his way through the water. you thought about the weird nickname and shrugged, thinking that everyone must be little to him when he's that big.

upon arriving home at your apartment, you saw a series of messages of apologies and excuses from the guy you went on a date with. you scoffed and blocked him without responding.

the second time that you were saved by ultraman was when you unfortunately got in the crossfire between him and a kaiju that looked like a dinosaur. you were underneath a separated car door after trying to run to safety, your left leg and forehead dripping with blood, and you were too light-headed from the blood loss to help yourself out of your current position.

after the shaking of the ground has stopped, assuming that the battle has ended, you opened your eyes only to reveal that everything was blurry. an elderly woman was crouched in front of you, slightly tapping your face before wiping the blood off of your forehead. "oh, you poor thing," she said. a tear made its way across your cheek, finally feeling the pain after the numbness had faded away. "you'll be okay," the woman said before standing up and walking into the middle of the street, and it was the last thing you saw before passing out.

the elderly woman had called for ultraman, waving her arms out as high as she could. seeing her from a few streets over, ultraman rushed to her, careful with his steps to avoid stepping on a car. "hello! is something the matter?" ultraman greeted.

"here, here!" the woman called and led her to where you were. shocked, ultraman knelt down and lifted the car door, placing it down on the sidewalk before scooping you up into his palms. "poor girl has been bleeding since i saw her." she added, her hands cupped together, worriedness heard in her voice. "if you rush, we might save her!" she exclaimed.

ultraman nodded and stood up on his feet, slowly moving covering you with his other hand. "thank you, madame. please, go home to where you'll be safe." he said before flying off.

hearing a constant beep woke you up from the hospital bed that you stayed in. you squinted your eyes as you adjusted to the light on the ceiling, you then saw your right leg with a cast. groaning, you took a deep breath before looking around more. there was a desk beside you with a folded piece of paper.

you reached for it and unfolded it, and there was a note in blue ink that said, "the bills have been covered. please, get well soon."

the third time of being saved by ultraman was when a kaiju attack has been reported near you once again and ultraman took you to safety via his palm because you couldn't walk properly with your cast.

by the fourth time, you simply greeted the character with a simple hello despite having yet another kaiju attack near you. ultraman greeted you back, laughing after realizing that he was getting used to seeing you when there's a kaiju attack and saying, "hello, little ma'am."

for the fifth time, you were in a restaurant for dinner that had unfortunately caught on fire because of a flame-spitting kaiju. although you had the opportunity to leave early the moment smoke was seen to guarantee your safety, you helped every person you could to leave the restaurant instead before helping the staff control the growing fire.

the fire department in the city was handling the fire in a hospital which led to their lateness in handling the one in the restaurant you were staying at. fortunately, the five million meters tall (your exaggeration) superhero was there, helping the humans put out the fire and successfully doing so.

as the staff were being interviewed by news reporters, you went on your way to a different restaurant instead to continue your dinner. a few streets down from where the restaurant was, you walked downtown to where the road was quiet and empty, and you just casually bumped into ultraman.

by casually, you meant that he almost stepped on you after not looking before taking a sharp turn. "woah there!" the huge being exclaimed, his robotic voice echoing throughout the evening. you had your hands in the pockets of your jacket as you looked up at him.

"wait, i know you." he said before going down on his knees and lowering his body to take a better look at you. "little ma'am!" he exclaimed, his bright eyes widening.

you squinted your eyes at the brightness and smiled sheepishly. "hey, ultraman."

ultraman sat up and held out his palm for you, which you accepted. you stepped on his finger before making your way towards his palm, and he then lifted you up before holding you in front of him as he looked at you.

"what brings you here?" you asked, crossing your legs on his palm, making yourself comfortable.

he let out a small chuckle at how used you were to stay on his palms. "uh, fire, in the uptown," he explained. your eyes widened as your eyebrows lifted. "woah, were you there?" he asked, worried.

you nodded. "yeah, i was supposed to have dinner but then the ceiling started burning. i tried to help some elderly people to head outside." you explained.

ultraman smiled down at you, happiness obvious in his robotic facial expression. "you've helped greatly." he said.

you laughed and swatted your hands in front of him. "nah, the cook and waitresses helped control the fire before you got there." you said.

"no way," ultraman shook his head. "don't undermine what you've done, because you've done great. i never would've dumped the bucket of water if i had known that there were people inside, and it would have been hard for me to help them out with my big size." he said. "really, thank you for the help."

you just smiled at him and scoffed playfully. "just another day for a super human," you joked.

you and him shared a laugh and continued your talk. "so, what're you gonna do now?" he asked you, now leaning on the office building behind him as he got more comfortable throughout the conversation.

"ah, i wanted to continue my dinner, but there's this big bug that just wouldn't stop pestering me," you joked, referring to him which made him drop his jaw playfully as if he was offended.

the two of you laughed. "what about you?" you asked.

ultraman tilted his head to the side and rested it on his shoulder. "oh, man, i am beat. i might nap for weeks after tonight, so i'm leaving the city-saving to the new superhero called "little lady". ever heard of her?" ultraman said.

"nah, never. she sounds cool though, probably pretty with big muscles, i assume?" you rode along with his joke, making him laugh.

"oh, yeah, definitely. really pretty thing," he said casually.

your laughter halted upon hearing what he said, making your cheeks and ears flush at the compliment. when he finally realized the words that came out of his mouth, ultraman fixed his posture and stuttered an excuse. you laughed and patted his palm. "don't worry, hypnotizing people to make 'em think i'm good-looking is part of my one hundred and three superpowers."

ultraman let out a hearty laugh at this, making your stomach warm by hearing it. "yeah? better get started to knowing each one."

you smiled at him and took a deep breath. your conversation had finally stopped, the two of you thinking about your own things. after a few more small talk, ultraman had decided to call it a night to let his body rest after the fight with the kaiju. you agreed and he let you down from his palm before standing up to his height that surpassed the building's.

"also, if you want dinner, tonkatsu tonki is the place to go." he said before waving off and flying off.

and the sixth time was now. "hey." you greeted, a tired expression visible on your face.

"always in the centre of the tornado, huh, little ma'am?" he said as he had you in his palms once more, walking you towards the evacuation center.

"lucky me," you sarcastically said.

"lucky you, my personal damsel in distress." he echoed you jokingly.

you rolled your eyes.

taglist: @ttulipwritezz @c-losur3 @saeyari @luvly-writer

[anna-scribbles]

if the agrestes weren't rich i think that gabriel would be the normal one. like gabe's problem is that he stopped running into natural limits due to absurd wealth and his obsessive nature led him to develop some kind of god complex where he won't accept that anything is out of his control. I think that if gabe was broke again and just simply couldn't afford to go on an international goose chase for ancient magic artifacts of untold power, if he had to work a 9-5 to live and couldn't just disappear into his basement lair to commit domestic terrorism and say evil monologues to himself, then he would be way more normal. he'd just be some guy. he might even let himself have a mowhawk again. but I think that emilie would be way LESS normal if they weren't rich. like emilie needs so many people to be obsessed with her so much all the time in order for her to function. and gabe would still have his toxic codependent obsession with her, sure, but that wouldn't be nearly enough. emilie has to be at the center of the world's spotlight at all times because she doesn't know how to exist if she's not performing. anyway all this to say I am so certain that if the agrestes were not disgustingly wealthy, emilie agreste would one million percent be running a massive family vlogger youtube channel

[razrbladekiss]

MAPLE HAZEL | Joel Miller — Part Two

SUMMARY: another day, another visit to joel’s little coffee shop. he’s as miserable as ever, and you’re probably the only person brave enough to want to spend time with joel outside of his work.

PAIRING: no outbreak!joel miller x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k , i’m afraid this is v. short. </3

WARNINGS: fluff. angst. our luke danes-y joel is having a hard time trying to mentally confront his feelings. you’re just as annoying and oblivious to it all as always. mentions of food consumption. reader refers to her parents verrrrrry brief. mentions of reader’s hair blowing into her face, but otherwise nothing to note.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Joel’s back is flush to the counter when you amble through the door this morning, hair strewn across your face, strands set into sticky peach gloss. A few strong gusts of wind—and a stupid confidence in your locks to stay in place—has led you into this precarious position.

Typical. On a morning where you’d like to feel good about yourself, you’re suddenly left feeling like hot garbage.

“Coffee. Now.” Guttural and bone-tired, you hurl at him. But he doesn’t move. His eyes affixed to the chalkboard above the strategically placed syrup station, arms folded over. You’re lucky if he’s even heard you for his attention is wholly deployed to the new menu that he’s spent the better part of thirty minutes creating.

You trudge—cold and dishevelled—through the cafe, feeling eyes on your back. The woman whose face, outfit, and attitude is always put together, is currently struggling through her morning no thanks to the glorious October weather. And the fact that last night’s date went to absolute shit is no help to you today, either.

“Joel.” Exhausted from the day already—despite it barely pushing eight twenty—you squeak. He grunts in response, pointing to the coffee pot that’d just finished brewing as he awaited your inevitable appearance at his door.

Still, he doesn’t move. So you take it upon yourself to shift from one side of the counter, to the other—dropping your purse on it as you do so. It’s weird, being here. Being in Joel’s territory. It gives you a random power trip, more than anything.

But that’s short lived when you realize that your favorite pink polka-dot mug is too high on the shelf—and Miller is too enamoured with whatever it is that he’s doing—so you settle for the less appealing yellow butterfly one, and begin to pour in the liquid that’s definitely comparable to black tar heroin.

You take a swig, before you’re traipsing away from the carafe that you’ve been so gratefully acquainted with.

“I’m so over today already.” You moan, walking over to your seat. You’d have liked to have been sipping on a fresh maple hazel latte today, but you’ll take what you can get so long as you’re not having to actually make it yourself.

You lean over the counter—zoning in on the miniature cake-case—and lift one of those beautifully round cinnamon rolls. You take a bite, and all seems to be right in the world. Aside from the man whose bun you’ve just stolen.

“Joel, are you even lucid right now?”

“I am.” He mumbles, wondering whether the specials should be placed before or after the main menu. It’s a predicament he didn’t think he’d be faced with at this time on a Friday morning. But here he is.

“Whatcha doin’?” A little bit intrigued—because Joel has never struck you as a perfectionist—you ask. He doesn’t respond straight away, and you don’t mind because you’re raking your fingers through tangled strands, wondering why you never carry a hairbrush with you anymore. You’re also munching on your illegal cinnamon roll.

“Just tryin’ to make this stupid place look a little better.” He exhales a deep, exaggerated breath. Joel’s line of sight meets yours when he swivels around, a wonky smile pulling at your lips and a sheen of sticky buttercream icing twinkling beneath yellow spotlights.

He takes you all in. The black dress that you’re donning, your favorite double-breasted woolen coat—that you pull out of your wardrobe each fall—the collection of bracelets decorating your wrists. You’re a marvel, despite feeling less than adequate. A different kind of beauty.

Joel bites back any feelings, and blinks at you.

“Did you just take that cinnamon roll without paying?”

You nod, swallowing down the last mouthful, followed by a long sip of coffee. “I did. And I’d do it again.”

Yeah. He thought as much.

“The specials board looks good.” Striving to change the subject, you tell him. You look up at it, impressed by his handwriting and ability to draw little pumpkins and maple leaves. It’s sweet. “Why’d you change it?”

He glances at it with you, noticing too many imperfections. He sighs.

“Was boring me, the old one. But now…”

“Now this one isn’t up to scratch either?” You pose, setting your lips into a straight line. “But I think it looks great. And I come in here every single day, so I think that I’m qualified to say that.”

Joel chuckles. He supposes that you’re right. He also supposes that you need another refill.

“How’d last night go?” Almost as if he doesn’t want to know the answer, he asks. All the while pouring enough coffee into the mug to drown a small town. “Was Costco guy a hit?”

You groan. Dramatically. Joel grimaces.

“I take that to mean no, he wasn’t.”

Wordlessly, you nod. You take a long, drawn out pull of your coffee. Again. And Joel checks you out. Again.

The apples of your cheeks appear to be slightly more subdued, now. No longer blazing red. And your smile—despite faltering at the mention of your date—is as bright, and toothy as ever.

She’s so beautiful.

I wonder whether or not he was a jerkoff.

Soft spoken, Joel asks about Marcus for the last time when you swirl the remnants of coffee about in the mug. He’s curious. Maybe a bit too much.

“Ugh, I don’t even know what to say.” Slightly depressed—completely unlike you—you start. “It was so crappy, Joel. I had high hopes, but he was just so…eh.”

“Eh?”

“Yeah. Eh.”

“Meaning?”

“Boring. Irritating. A literal life-sucking, soul-destroying, personality vacuum.” Blunt, you tell him. “I’d rather sit and watch an entire room of paint dry, than have to spend another waking minute listening to him ramble on about his vapid life.”

Plump lips contort—against his better judgement—into a little smirk. Satisfied, perhaps. Content with the fact that your date—the one that you unintentionally rubbed into his face—went so awfully bad, you don’t even want to talk about him.

Very, very satisfied.

“But my lunch with Maria was great.” Starting to smile again, you explain. “She told me that she and Tommy are heading to Cancun next summer. And that they’re hoping to start trying for a baby—“

Joel grimaces. He hates this.

So. Much.

“Come on, it’ll be cute. Uncle Joel.”

He stares at you, a few loose curls poking out from above the backstrap of his hat makes it almost impossible to take him seriously.

“I’d rather not think about my brother and his wife trying for a baby.”

Your eyes roll. “Grow up, you prude.”

Joel’s hands fuse to his hips, a light sheen of sweat coating the skin of his forehead. He can’t tell if it’s because he’s hot, or starting to get annoyed.

“How is that me being a prude? I just don’t wanna think ‘bout my brother having—“

“Enough.” Warning—though fighting a giggle—you say. “I can’t believe that when I say that you’re brother is trying for a baby, you automatically envision Tommy having sex. That is not normal.”

He supposes that you’re right, but still. The mental image haunts him.

Maybe it’s just a girl thing, to think of that so positively. Like it’s something to share with the entire world. But to him—a guy—it’s the most inconceivable thing.

Perhaps it is a little bit prudish.

“Moving swiftly on…” Hands placed gently against the newspaper left at the spot to your right, you make eye contact with him again. “Maria said she’d cover tomorrow night.”

Joel says your name, letting his head tilt back a little bit. He seems annoyed at you for going behind his back like this. You can’t find it inside yourself to care, though.

“She said she’ll be happy to. ‘Cus you never go out, and have no friends, and no social life, and—“

“I get it.” His baritone is low as he growls. It’s almost primal. It’s actually a little bit seductive, you feel.

Despite being handsome—almost painfully so—you’ve never thought about him like that. It’s never once crossed your mind to harbor these feelings about your friend, but that has completely unintentionally awakened something inside of your already chaotic—much too busy—brain. And your vagina.

You feel very Bridget Jones-y, now. In a strange position, but wholly comfortable with the fact that you’re stuck here. In fact, you don’t hate the thought of pushing some more.

“And considering that you never get laid, neither, I said that I’ll be happy to help out.”

Joel’s dick twitches. His face falls.

“With setting you up, of course.” You finish, watching fifty different emotions flit over his hardened features. One of which being complete unadultered fury.

Fury for the fact that, maybe, you’ve teased a little too close to home. and getting to grips with being single stings. Or fury because he wants you, and you’re trying to push him onto another body.

Regardless, Joel looks pissed.

And so, with that, you take the morning paper, and stuff it into your little purse. He watches intently, and the little adjustment to your panties through your dress absolutely does not go unnoticed as you stand to attention beside the barstool.

Your coat is being shrugged on in a heartbeat.

“I’ve gotta shoot. My parents are coming to stay with me Monday for a few nights, and I needa stock up on tea leaves, fresh linens, and enough red wine to get so drunk that perhaps I’ll be able to tolerate an hour with my mother.”

Joel forces a laugh.

“See ‘ya tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He watches you leave—like each day before this one—and smirks. “See ‘ya tomorrow. Maybe.”

Your head whips around as you get to the door, eyebrows fused together. With eyes squinting, you point at him. “Thin. Ice.”

The next evening rolls around faster than what you might’ve liked, and is considerably colder than before. A black scarf wrapped around your neck really tampers with the vibe of your very put-together outfit for movie night.

But you suppose that if you were to leave that at home, then you’d absolutely die of frostbite. And then the question of who’d annoy Joel if I was six feet under? rattles around your head. And you can’t possibly carry on with the prospect of death.

So the scarf stays on. And so does the matching hat.

“You look like one of the snowmen that the kids build on the green.” Is what he greets you with when you enter the coffee house. Neck and chin swathed in faux cashmere.

“Very funny.” You mumble, pulling down fabric to reveal your perfectly plush lips. “Let’s go. I’m starving, and it’s cold.”

“Don’t forget your coal ‘n carrot.” Maria jokes from behind the counter, and Tommy is almost doubled over laughing at his wife.

They’re so cute together. It makes you sick.

“Don’t poke the bear.” Joel murmurs to his brother. “I’ve gotta spend the evening with it, and I’d really rather my head stay intact—“

“I can hear you.”

Joel glances over his shoulder shrugging on his denim jacket with the white borg trim, and stifles a laugh at the sight of you; completely clothed from your cheeks down. It’s adorable.

“Sorry.” Murmuring again, he says. He gestures for you to go out first, before he’s turning to his brother and Maria, mouthing a quick thank you.

She simply smiles in response, and turns to her husband when the two of you leave the building.

“He’s totally into her.”

“Oh, no doubt about it.” Tommy replies. “Just hope he’s not too chicken shit to do anything ‘bout it.”

She agrees with a soft hum, making tracks to a table of new customers to take their orders.

Per Joel’s request, the two of you grab a burger from a very—very—greasy joint a few blocks away from the movie theatre, and you find it being one of the best you’ve ever had in your life.

Piled to the absolute high-heavens, it’s safe to say that you’d never seen such a creation before. Cheese, bacon, lettuce, tomato—a boat-load of pickles—and, like, six onion rings, had that monster very deserving of its title of gut-buster.

But the way that you absolutely mangled that thing had Joel way more impressed. He’d only ever watched you devour cinnamon rolls and the odd stack of pancakes. This was like a fever dream.

And the fact that you then decided on grabbing a purse-full of snacks to take into the screening of Beetlejuice with you, has you very deserving of a few freebies from his humble cafe.

“That movie never fails to make me smile.” You say as the two of you walk—arm in arm—back into the cold, dreary night. “But it always begs the question; if the Maitland’s died by drowning, then why aren’t they wet throughout the movie?”

Joel laughs and shrugs, finding himself tightening the grip that his arm has on yours. Neither of you mind.

“I just think that Keaton plays a demon super well—“

“Don’t call him that.” You defend. “I mean, I know that he technically is one, but still. He’s a stand up guy.”

“He’s a total jerk—“

“Joel.” You whine. He’s one of your favorite fictional characters, and it’s killing you to hear this slander. “He’s my—he’s my boy. I love him.”

He blinks at you. His respect for you is dwindling, mainly because you’re essentially saying that Keaton’s portrayal of a green-haired gremlin is better than his version of Batman.

Blasphemy.

“He’s hot.” You say after a few moments of silence, feeling your cheeks heat at the confession. “In a dilf-y way. I think.”

Two brown eyes almost bulge out of Joel’s head, and he literally cannot help the laugh that bubbles from the fissures of his throat. You are very troubled.

“That’s concerning.”

“The fact that I like older men is concerning to you?”

His heart thumps. He’s not sure why, but it does. It’s a strange sensation—one he’s not able to describe in so many words—but he enjoys it. He thinks.

Maybe.

“No.” He clears his throat. “The fact that you find Michael Keaton—as Beetlejuice—hot is concerning to me, kid.”

You throw your head back laughing, motioning to a bench that looks fairly dry. You’re not ready for your evening to end quite yet.

“Why’d you always call me that?”

Joel unhooks his arm from yours, taking a seat as you plop down onto the birchwood. He lets out a little grunt as he goes down, something about his back and knees hurting from slaving away alllllll day.

“Call you what? Kid?”

You nod.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, leaning back. Joel extends his legs, just watching the city lights pass him by. “I’m a lot older than you. It’s habit, I ‘spose.”

Dallas is bustling, tonight. A cold, foggy evening will seldom stop the population of Texas from stepping out on a Saturday night. Phil’s Line Dancing club is packed, as per usual. Wall-to-wall with people just looking for a good time.

The atmosphere is unmatched, to you. Nothing feels as good as your state. Especially on weekends and football days. You get a little wet just thinking about the Cowboys playing AT&T.

Your home is so vibrant. So colourful and beautiful, and you’re happy to be seeing Dallas in all of its glory with Joel by your side tonight.

Many a drunk couple stumble past you both as you sit and chat on the bench, the thought of his last sentiment still hanging over your head like a little rain cloud. He may be a lot older than you, but you don’t mind. You still see him as a friend.

A good friend, as a matter of fact. Great, even. The best, perhaps.

A friend who despite seeing every single morning—and sometimes evening—you still feel like you cannot fill in the blanks on the sordid details of his life.

“Can I ask you something?” You turn so that you’re facing Joel, eyes searching his face for an answer. He smiles. The lines around his mouth, crows feet and forehead wrinkles have your eyes softening.

He’s so handsome.

“Yeah, shoot.”

Fiddling with the chain on your wrist—the one that Maria got you from Toronto—it’s a struggle to find your words. The right words, anyway.

You clear your throat after an awkward juncture, finally able to verbalize what you want to say.

“Did Tess leave because of me?”

It comes like a ton of bricks to the chest. Joel didn’t think you’d ask such a heavy question, least alone after spending the evening—outside of the shop—together. It’s a very jarring—painful—position to be thrust into. But it’s a question that he knew he’d have to respond to first as last.

His heart wrenches. He knows the answer, but he doesn’t know whether you do.

“I won’t be offended. Honest.”

“Where’s—uh—where’s this comin’ from?” He stutters over his qualm, hand reaching for the back of his neck. He rubs at the skin, feeling his heart pound. “Did someone say somethin’?”

Your head shakes. “No. I’ve just been thinkin’…”

“Why?” Comes a little bit curt. He kicks himself, but you don’t seem fazed by his tone. “People talkin’?”

Again, you’re shaking your head. “No, Joel, I just wanna know.”

Inquisitive as ever.

He swallows thickly the acrimony that’s rising to the surface at the thought of Tess and the day that she left. Trying to keep it suppressed hasn’t done him the favor that he thought it would’ve.

“She left ‘cus she had enough.” He spits, doing the most to avoid eye contact. “Of me. Of Birch Grove. Of everything that I fuckin’ did.”

You gasp. You don’t think that you’ve ever heard Joel curse.

Raw with emotion, his voice sounds barren. Bare. There’s nothing left to say, on the topic, but so much at the same time. But he owes this to you.

“She never liked you, y’know?” Almost guilty, he says. “Said you’re always too chirpy and flirty—hell, I think she was just projectin’ ‘cus I never saw her happy to see no one.”

“No way.” Not nearly sarcastic enough, you laugh. “I’m surprised that she never spat in my coffee.”

“Yeah, well. I’d never put anything past her.” A little bitter, he responds. “Hated all you girls that’d come in. Even scared off Josie—told her not to come back, or she’d tell her husband that she was tryna screw me—“

Genuinely shocked, your jaw hangs low. “Jesus.”

“Yep.” He watches over the stragglers stumbling out of Phil’s, and looks at you.

Your cheeks, nose and ears are stippled with a rosy blush. If he were to set his calloused palms against your tender skin, he’s sure that the cold would be almost bone-chilling. But he refrains.

“Nasty, nasty piece ‘a work. Glad she left, if I’m honest.”

“You two…You seemed so happy.”

“We were.” Honest comes his proclamation. “Until we weren’t. Until she started to get envious of every single female that walked through the cafe doors, and turned into a big blonde green-eyed monster.”

“Jealousy is such an ugly trait.”

He agrees with a tight-lipped smile and a nod, ignoring the fact that he was feeling that very emotion when you went out on a date. With a man who wasn’t him.

But now, here you are. With Joel. On a not date. But he’ll take what he can get, so long as the two of you can have some time together.

“God, Joel. I couldn’t imagine my life not coming to see you every morning.”

He smiles.

“What?” You blush. But it’s not apparent, what with the way your skin is already flush.

“Nothin.’” Joel’s teeth show beneath the scratchy hair of his mustache. You smile back. “Just couldn’t imagine mine if you didn’t come ‘n bleed me dry of lattes ‘n cinnamon rolls, either.”

That’s wholly the truth. Something he didn’t think he’d ever find himself letting you become privy to. Yet, here he is.

“That’s sweet. It’s nice to know that you have a heart beneath all the band shirts, and flannels.”

“Yeah, well.” He stretches his arms out and you slide closer to him—taking the man completely by surprise—nestling comfortably into his side. A perfect fit, actually. “It’s hard to get to, but it’s there.”

You smile up at him, eyes twinkling beneath the streetlights above.

“That’s good to know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze is averted to the sidewalk, now. Focused wholly on the night passing you by. “Hopefully I hold a tiny little place there.”

Joel hugs you into his side, silently reassuring you that there’ll always be a tiny little place in his heart just for you.

[lecsainz]

Hope you're doing amazing! I love your blog so much! I come here almost every other day to day dream about my favourites and read your pieces again and again. Could i request Carlos x reader fic where Carlos comforts the reader after some reporters prod into their private life and the reader feels overwhelmed... Angst to fluff and maybe smut in the end?

SHE’S A BAD BAD GIRL

parings: carlos sainz x famous!reader

authors note: I gotta say, mixing a bit of AU with regular fanfic, can I just say I love doing magazine features?

summary: that one where the media makes up stuff about your relationship with carlos but he ain't gonna let that shake our relationship.

☆. . . masterlist !

Exclusive Source Reveals Startling Insights Into the Relationship of F1's Rising Star and the Elusive Heiress

The Power Couple: Carlos Sainz and Y/N Y/L/N's Love Story or PR Masterpiece?

By TMZ Magazine - September 2023

In the glitzy world of fame and fortune, where the line between reality and illusion often blurs, power couples are born just as swiftly as they fade away.

None have captured the public's attention quite like that of Formula 1 sensation Carlos Sainz Jr. and the enigmatic heiress Y/N Y/L/N. This power couple's whirlwind romance has been the subject of intense speculation, with many questioning the authenticity of their love. In a TMZ exclusive, we delve into the inner workings of their seemingly sensational union, revealing what lies beneath the surface.

It's no secret that the world of celebrity romance often blurs the lines between genuine affection and calculated publicity. In the case of Carlos Sainz Jr. and Y/N Y/L/N, sources close to the couple suggest that their relationship might be more PR strategy than a heartfelt connection. Our exclusive source, a close friend of the couple, disclosed that the pair has carefully orchestrated their romance to maximize benefits on both ends.

"They both know that being in the spotlight can help boost their respective careers," our source shared. "They decided it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. Carlos gets more media coverage, and Y/N can use his popularity to her advantage."

Y/N Y/L/N, the elusive heiress whose life has been shrouded in mystery, has raised eyebrows with her numerous high-profile relationships over the years. It's no secret that she's been romantically linked to at least eight A-list celebrities, including musicians, actors, and even fellow heirs. Despite her apparent aversion to fame and the media circus that surrounds it, Y/N has consistently found herself in the headlines due to her high-profile affairs.

"The irony is that Y/N has always claimed to hate the attention that comes with dating famous people," our source revealed. "Yet, she's continued to choose partners from the same world she professes to despise."

As the couple's relationship has garnered more attention, their PR teams have been working tirelessly to manage the narrative. They've employed tactics such as carefully timed public appearances, social media posts, and interviews to keep the public intrigued and invested in their romance. This calculated approach, however, has led many to question the authenticity of their connection.

"Their teams are skilled at using the media to their advantage," our source admitted. "It's all about perception and maintaining their status as a 'power couple.'"

As the world continues to watch this captivating couple's every move, one question lingers: Is their love story genuine, or is it a calculated maneuver to seize the attention of the masses and advance their respective careers? Are Carlos and Y/N truly in love, or are they orchestrating a well-choreographed PR campaign for mutual benefit?

Stay tuned for more exclusive updates and revelations from TMZ Magazine.

Y/N lay sprawled across the plush sofa in the cozy living room of her shared home with Carlos in Spain. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting warm rays of light across the room. She'd been catching up on some reading when her phone buzzed incessantly, drawing her attention away from the book.

The headline on her screen was impossible to miss: "The Power Couple: Carlos Sainz and Y/N Y/L/N's Love Story or PR Masterpiece?" The TMZ article had surfaced online, and her heart sank as she read through the scandalous claims about their relationship. It was a relentless invasion of their privacy, dissecting their love as if it were a staged performance.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, and she felt overwhelmed by the intrusion into their lives. She knew she had to confront this with Carlos, who had always been her rock in times of turmoil.

Carlos entered the room, sensing the tension in the air. "Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern as he sat down beside her.

She handed him her phone, unable to speak the words herself. Carlos read through the article, his expression growing darker with every word. He clenched his jaw, his protective instincts kicking in. "This is complete nonsense," he muttered angrily.

Carlos's anger simmered as he continued to read the invasive article. His protective instincts flared, and he couldn't fathom how anyone could twist their love into something so far from the truth.

"They have no idea what they're talking about," Carlos said, his voice low but filled with determination. "This is just trash journalism trying to stir up controversy."

Y/N looked up at Carlos, her eyes filled with gratitude. She'd always admired his strength and resilience. "I know, Carlos, but it still stings. I hate how they're trying to make our love seem fake."

Carlos's expression softened as he turned to her. "Mi sol," he whispered, using the affectionate term he had for her. "Our love is as real as the sun streaming through those windows. Don't ever doubt that."

Y/N managed a faint smile, her heart aching a little less with his reassuring words. "I just wish we could shut them up, Carlos."

A mischievous glint flickered in Carlos's eyes as he looked at her. "Well, maybe we can," he said cryptically.

Before Y/N could ask what he meant, Carlos swept her into his arms and stood up. She laughed in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Carlos, what are you doing?" she asked, her laughter mixing with curiosity.

He grinned down at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I'm taking my sunshine to our room," he said, "away from all this nonsense."

Y/N couldn't help but giggle as Carlos carried her bridal style down the hallway to their bedroom. His laughter joined hers, and it echoed through their home, drowning out the noise of the world outside.

In that moment, as Carlos playfully carried her, Y/N realized that their love was a sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of fame and gossip. It didn't matter what others said or wrote about them. What they had was real, unbreakable, and filled with a kind of love that could weather any storm.

As they reached their bedroom, Carlos gently set Y/N down, and they both burst into laughter. He pulled her into a tender kiss, sealing their promise to protect their love from the prying eyes of the world.

As Carlos set Y/N down in their bedroom, their laughter filled the air like a sweet melody, banishing the remnants of unease brought on by the intrusive article. With a loving smile, Carlos cupped her face in his hands, his gaze locked onto hers.

"You know," he whispered, his voice laced with desire, "there's one thing those journalists will never understand."

Y/N's breath hitched as she met his intense gaze. "What's that?" she asked, her voice barely more than a soft murmur.

Carlos leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a teasing, tantalizing kiss. "That our love," he murmured, his voice husky, "is the real deal."

Their kisses deepened, their passion igniting like a flame. Carlos's hands slid from her face down to the small of her back, pulling her closer. Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, and she moaned softly against his lips.

Their love was a fire burning brightly, an unbreakable bond that no amount of gossip or scrutiny could diminish. As their clothes fell to the floor, they reveled in the intimacy that was entirely their own, a celebration of their genuine love.

In the quiet of their bedroom, away from the prying eyes of the world, Carlos and Y/N proved that their love wasn't just a masterpiece of public relations. It was a passionate, fiery, and deeply genuine connection that left no room for doubt.

As their bodies entwined and their moans of pleasure filled the room, they knew that their love was their most cherished secret, a sanctuary where they could be their true selves, far away from the judgmental eyes of the world.

liked by charlesleclerc , taylorswift , and 13.657.473 others

carlossainz55 just had the best night of my life! thanks, gossipmongers, for the motivation.

tag: yourusername

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[saphiccarma]

Sex with a Ghost

Summary - You weren't sure why you were on Earth, or why you could sense the Darkhold, but you did know you encountered the most beautiful woman on earth.

Warnings - Smut, fingering (R receiving)

A/N : I've never written smut before 😭I apologise if it's really bad (which it probably is)

Wanda moved to a house out in woods after Westview, shame filling her at what she had done. She hadn't meant to take control of all those people, make them her puppets in her own little personal town where she could live out her personal fantasy of having a life with Vision. Part of, the largest part, loved that. She had children who ran around and baked with her, who loved her and she loved them.

She saw the boys now, bolting in through the room, their smiles bright. From an outside view Wanda saw herself stirring some brownie batter. They dipped their fingers in as Wanda scolded them playfully.

It was a dream. It was all a dream. At least that's what she wanted to believe. In some reality, she had this. She had her boys and presumably Vision. A sick feeling boiled in her stomach, one filled with rage and jealousy, but also sadness.

Wanda was yanked out of her dream, her perfect dream, and back to her reality. Her eyes opened blearily, blinking away sleep as she adjusted to the light coming in from the window and softly illuminating the room. Weird, she didn't remember opening the curtains. Sitting up slowly, she listened to the birds chirping, her sheep bleating, the wind swaying the trees, and footsteps. Wanda did a small double take. Footsteps, feathery light, were above her, just barely audible.

As the footsteps continued, Wanda threw on some clothes, changing out of her night gown and opened the window fully. She stepped out, using her powers to elevate her to the roof. Wanda landed softly, a contrast to her emotions, and raised her hands, prepared to fight.

She froze.

A woman stood on the roof, her legs bending and straightening as she spun around. Her arms flew through the air as she danced along the rooftops. Blowing in her face, the wind ruffled her hair and made it whip around her face. The dress she wore was dancing with her, billowing as the wind spun past. The sunlight hit her just right so that it looked like a spotlight coming from below. The oddest part was her body. The tips of her fingers, the end of her nose, the outline of her entire figure, seemed to be floating away - attempting to carry her body up in little wisps. She looked like a ghost.

The woman slowed, spinning around and making eye contact with Wanda. Slowly, she blinked, her arms coming down to rest at her side as she tilted her head in a way that reminded Wanda of a puppy.

"Hi," she said softly, her voice mixing with the wind.

"Who are you?" Wanda asked, her Sokovian accent making it through just barely.

Blinking slowly, the woman approached Wanda, her hands splayed out in a placating way, as if she were approaching a scared cat. She got into touching distance before stopping.

"You do not know me?" Curiosity dripped from her words as she titled her head once more.

Wanda shook her head, scowling at the woman, "No."

She didn't look the slightest bit familiar. Nothing about her seemed familiar. The woman sighed, her shoulders sagging.

"But you can see me?" she asked, raising a brow.

"Why wouldn't I?"

A smile crept across the woman's face, "Because I'm a ghost."

^______________________^

As you thought, Wanda was a force to be reckoned with. She contained a violent power that was meant to be controlled, one that could not run free. Her magic was a force of nature, not meant to belong to someone who ran free throughout the world. Wanda would have been raised properly and properly taught if she had raised by witches.

You drifted through her house, taking in the cozy decoration. Couches, meant for a family lined the living room, beneath a TV and in front of a roaring fireplace. Wanda led you to the kitchen, her steps hesitant, yet confident. She had a calm vibe to her house in the decor, and despite that you couldn't help but shiver. An air of darkness lingered in the house. It floated in the air, wafting through all the corridors and seeping through the floor. The Darkhold.

"You are in possession of the Darkhold," you murmured.

Wanda's head snapped towards you, her brows furrowed, and nose scrunched, "How do know that?"

Offering her a soft smile, you pointedly glanced down at her fingers, "The tips of your fingers are stained with the darkness of it, and I can feel it."

"You can feel it? How?" she asked, pausing in her walking, staring at you curiously.

You pondered her words, wondering the best way to explain it. Even you didn't quite know yourself. Your powers were a mystery to you, they simply came to be when you died. Dying wasn't a pleasant experience, having been stabbed, you could still remember the blood flowing from the wound as you limped through the snow. When you were alive you were no one of significance, not even a witch. And yet, when you died, the gates to the underworld refused to let you in. Rather you were rejected and forced to wander the world, drawn to the dark forces of life.

"I do not know," you shrugged, answering honestly, "I just do."

The woman tilted her head, regarding you in an odd way. She was a pretty woman. Red hair cascading down her back, slightly messy, that fell atop her brown jacket. Green eyes that had the ability to shine bright red, but both beautiful.

"Why are you here?" she questioned, taking a step closer.

You licked your lips, "Because I thought you could see me. No one's seen me in years."

Carefully you took a step forward, even though Wanda looked like she wanted to step back and raised your hand slowly. Eyeing you warily, Wanda didn't step back, but her breathing increased, bushing the top of your head. Ever so slowly, you placed your hand on her arm, and for once it didn't phase through her skin.

"I'm not phasing through," you whispered, pressing your hand into her skin, "It works."

You smiled up at her, a sight Wanda found adorable, the way your pale eyes shimmered and your lips curled upward in pure delight. While you were adorable, she wasn't sure what to think of you. A ghost, who appeared at her home out of blue, and somehow knew she had the Darkhold.

"Sorry," you stepped back, hand falling away, "It's been a while since I've been around someone."

"That's alright," Wanda's lip quirked upward.

You bit your lip, pondering your next question, toes bouncing just slightly, "What do you plan on doing with the Darkhold?"

Wanda's mood changed immediately, her shoulders tensing and eyes turning to daggers.

"That's none of your business," she snapped, the thinnest layer of red coming to coat her eyes.

"I can help," you offered, enjoying the way she seemed to perk up, the red dispersing from her eyes, "I've been following the Darkhold around for years."

Licking her lips, Wanda's eyes bore into you, your fingers fidgeting ever so slightly.

"I'm going to bring my kids back," she whispered.

A sadistic grin crossed your face, "I know how to do that."

^______________________^

You danced in the spare room in Wanda's house, your legs burning and lungs thumping from exhaustion. The nightmare was still in the front of your mind, phantom pain in your stomach. A knife being plunged into your stomach by a girl your age, the snow coating you as you were left to die, hauling yourself up to limp away, and finally collapsing in the snow.

There were light footsteps entering the room, ones that you ignored, hoping Wanda would go back to sleep. But she didn't, you caught a brief glance of her leaning on the doorway, her arms crossed and a small smile on her face, filled with adoration. It had been a few months since you first met Wanda, and while the woman was harsh, sometimes considered cruel, you understood her. She was kind to you, welcoming you in and caring for you.

"You should stop," Wanda said softly, her eyes taking in your sweaty face. She didn't even know ghosts could sweat or get tired; she didn't even know you could eat.

You gave her no response, continuing through the movements. Your arms hurt from being raised and if you could bleed, you were sure there would be blood staining the floors. Red wisps stopped your movements, pinning your arms to your sides, spinning you around to face Wanda who had her hand raised slightly.

Glaring at you, you huffed, "Wanda."

She approached you, gently cupping your jaw in her ring clad fingers, digging just slightly into your cheeks. The tips of her fingers were cold, stained from the magic of the Darkhold.

"I told you to stop." Her voice carried an air of dominance. One that filled you with shame.

"Sorry," you mumbled, "It just helps me to cope with stress."

While your gaze was fixed on the floor, you didn't notice Wanda's lips curl into a smirk. She leaned in close, her breath warm against the shell of your ear.

"I know a better way to help you destress." Her voice was sultry as she spoke those words, pulling back and tilting your chin up.

Your heart pounded as she pulled you in for a harsh kiss, her lips pressing up against yours. Fighting for dominance, Wanda shoved you back towards the wall, slamming you against it. Her teeth bit down on your lip, requesting permission to enter. Your lips parted to allow her tongue to slip in. It was a heated kiss, one that only ended when Wanda pulled back, her breathing heavy.

Her pupils were blown as she looked down at you, "Bedroom?"

You nodded, letting out a surprised squeak when Wanda lifted you up, your legs wrapping around her waist. Taking the opportunity, you nipped at her neck, relishing in the way she growled softly. Teasingly, you liked a strip up the column of her throat. Wanda let out a shaky breath, the palm of her hand landing on your ass.

"Stop that."

You grinned against her neck, pressing a soft kiss before biting down hard. Wanda growled once and suddenly she was no longer holding you up and you were falling flat on your back before you landed on the mattress. She climbed on top of you, trapping your body to the mattress,

"Someone's being naughty," Wanda smirked down at you, her eyes filled with mischief.

You smiled up at her cheekily as her hands snuck under your shirt, making their way to your breasts. Her hands came to tease your nipples, pulling at the little nubs and twisting. You gasped, squirming underneath her. She leaned down to kiss at your neck, nipping and soothing the marks over with her tongue.

"Wanda.." you whined, hands coming up to pull on the fabric of her shirt. Ignoring your whine, one of Wanda's hands slide down the side of your body, making its way to the waist of your pants. She tugged on the waistband, and you lifted your hips up, allowing her to pull it off with your panties and throw it to the side. She shuffled down, keeping her left hand playing with your breast, and the other resting on your waist. Her lips, soft against the wisp of your skin, trailed up the length of your thigh, kissing up to where you needed it most.

You whined, tugging at her hair, "Touch me."

Wanda chuckled, the sound cruel and cold, "I am."

A moan escaped you when she bit the inner skin on your thigh. Her index finger and thumb twisted your nipple harshly, resulting in a breathy moan from you. You tugged at her hair, trying to encourage her to get on with it. Wanda just laughed, her breath tickling your core. She swiped her fingers up your folds, your slick gathering on them.

"Aww," she cooed, not at all sweetly, "Is this all for me? I've barely touched you." Her fingers tapped on your lips before you could respond, asking for entrance. Opening your mouth, you licked her fingers clean of your slick, her fingers heavy on your tongue. "Does my needy baby want me to fuck her?"

"Yes," you pleaded when her fingers popped out of your mouth, "Please."

Wanda didn't respond, instead attaching her mouth to your clit, swirling around it. Her fingers entered you slowly, ever so tediously pumping in and out. She licked and sucked at your clit as you moaned, pulling at her hair for more. She ignored your silent please, instead continuing to swirl her tongue around your clit and pump in and out of you slowly. Picking up pace, she switched to hammering into you harshly, curling every now and then, hitting your sweet spot. Moving her mouth away, Wanda silenced your whine by attaching her lips to yours, kissing you passionately. With everything going on, you quickly reached your climax, that familiar heat coiling in your stomach. Your legs trembled as you started to let go, pressure building inside you, and just before you could have release, Wanda stopped. Her fingers pulled away and she stopped kissing you.

"No!" You cried, sitting up slightly to grab at her hand and pull it back to your core. Wanda laughed in faux pity, frowning at you. Before you could protest anymore, her fingers rammed into you once more. Wanda edged you two more times, pulling you to the edge, reading your body language, before she would pull back and look at you with regret that she didn't really mean. And for the fourth time, two of her fingers pushed into your sore pussy, her palm slapping against your clit if she went far enough. If it were any other time, you would've been embarrassed at the wet sounds that came from the room and the moans that escaped your mouth when she hit the perfect spot. Your climax came quickly, her skilled fingers bringing you to the edge.

Her fingers slipped out just slightly, causing you to panic, "Please, please, please," you begged, "Please."

Wanda continued pumping in and out of you languidly, considering your plea, "Go ahead." You sighed with relief when her fingers picked up pace, pounding into you again. Your climax came as quickly as it had gone, your body tensing as you finally let go, spilling all over her. Pulling out slowly, Wanda brought her fingers to her mouth, moaning at the taste of you.

You laid panting on the bed, arms spread out as your chest rose and fell. Wanda flopped down next to you, her other hand that wasn't in her mouth coming up to brush your hair out of your sweaty face. Smiling at her you kissed her lips softly, tasting yourself on her. She hummed softly, pulling you closer. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, your head leaning on her chest, listening to the sound of her heartbeat, her very real heartbeat. Her fingers played with your hair, stroking your neck softly as she wrapped herself around you.

"Let's get you cleaned up," she whispered, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

"No," you whined, pulling her back when she tried to pull away, "Stay here."

Wanda laughed, the sound soft and melodious, "Just a few more minutes."

You smirked in victory, whispering three words you never said until you met Wanda, "I love you."

[seriallover]

Why certain people capture the spotlight?⭐️

1. The luminaries, the Sun and Moon naturally draw attention in a birth chart. People with strong Sun or Moon placements tend to light up any room they enter, effortlessly standing out.

Just like everyone loves capturing the beauty of a sunrise or the glow of a full moon, those with these placements have a magnetic energy that people can’t help but notice.

It’s almost like they’re always in the spotlight, which is why they often feel the need to look their best.☀️🌕

Beyoncé, Purva Phalguni Sun, Chitra Lagna and Venus.

Michael Jackson, Magha Sun and Shatabhisha Lagna.

Bella Hadid, Purva Phalguni Moon and Lagna.

There's not much to say about Beyoncé and Michael that isn't already well-known—they're icons in their own right, the biggest stars of our time. Bella Hadid has become the most photographed model off-duty and in 2022, she was named Model of the Year.

Gia Carangi, often hailed as the first true supermodel, paved the way for all the other supermodels that followed. She had a Shravana Sun and Lagnesh, with Hasta as her Lagna and a Shatabhisha Moon.

Britney Spears, Shravana Moon, was one of the most photographed stars for a while. The crazy amount of media attention even led to harassment and really affected her mental health.

Gisele Bündchen, Pushya Sun and Purva Phalguni Lagna, the only "Ubermodel"-that means being more than a supermodel.

Lauren Hutton, Pushya Moon and Lagna, holds the record for the most Vogue covers—26 in total.

I previously explored about how lunar-dominant people often achieve significant success on social media.

2. Chitra Nakshatra, known as the "Star of Opportunity," carries the Shakti of "accumulating merit." The word "Chitra" translates to "wonderful" and "pleasing to look at," as well as "illusion."

The deity of this nakshatra is Tvastar, the celestial architect who designed the universe. The symbol of Chitra is the "pearl" or "bright jewel," symbolizing beauty and uniqueness.💎💍

"Chitra" also means "picture," so individuals with this nakshatra are often naturally photogenic. 📸Tvastar, as the creator of Maya (illusion), grants those under Chitra the ability to craft captivating personas, making them talented models, photographers, actors, and successful on social media.

Kim Kardashian, Chitra Sun, built a career centered on her image. As one of the first influencers, she's become one of the most prominent and influential figures on social media. In 2015, she released “Selfish”, a book featuring a collection of her selfies.

Cindy Kimberly, Chitra Moon and Shravana Lagna, shot to fame because of her striking beauty. Her big break came when Justin Bieber posted about her on his Instagram. Now, she’s a major beauty influencer and a well-known model.

Anna Nicole Smith, Chitra Sun and Hasta Moon, made a name for herself as a model, completely based on her image. She was once one of the most photographed women in the world, and photographers loved working with her, often saying she was one of the easiest and most exciting people to capture on camera.

The thing with Chitra individuals is that, because of Tvastar, the celestial craftsman, their features often become iconic. For instance, Kim drew the attention to the BBL, Cindy’s nose has become a major inspiration for many women, and Anna Nicole brought attention back to curvy bodies at a time when the "heroin chic" look was in vogue, reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe's era.

3. Dhanishtha🌟 Shakti is "power to give abundance and fame," meaning "the most famous," "the most heard of." This nakshatra is recurring in the charts of people who usually marry famous individuals, making them well-known as well, often attracting more attention than their partner.

Princess Diana, Dhanishtha Moon and Magha Lagnesh, was the most photographed woman in the world, holding the record for the most sold-out paparazzi pictures, including one that sold for 6 million dollars.

Marilyn Monroe, Rohini Sun, Dhanishtha Moon, and Ashlesha Lagna, was also one of the most photographed women of her time.

4. Shatabhisha, meaning "hundred stars" and represented by a veiled star and an empty circle, is a nakshatra ruled by Rahu. ⭕️

This nakshatra is associated with illusion, the power to effect radical change, innovation, the foreign, esoteric influences, and trends. The empty circle can also symbolize the idea of a cult or community, like the Navy for Rihanna.

Rihanna, Shatabhisha Sun, stands out as one of the most influential artists and fashion icons. She has consistently set trends in the fashion world, with her style serving as an inspiration to many. Recently, her maternity looks have redefined how celebrities approach their appearance during pregnancy, bringing a stylish twist to the norm.

Demi Moore, Lagnesh in Shravana and Jupiter in Shatabhisha in the first house, set a trend for nude pregnancy photoshoots. At the time, this was quite controversial, but it has since become a common practice not just among celebrities, but also for non-celebrity women.

Elizabeth Taylor, Sun in Shatabhisha, was also a major target for paparazzi. George Hamilton once remarked:

"I remember when the word 'paparazzi' came along, and it just meant a bunch of guys who were all photographers looking for Elizabeth Taylor. Desperately looking for Elizabeth Taylor! And that was the beginning of paparazzi. They were not going for glamour anymore. They were going for the destruction of glamour."

[srvbryn]

I can request that luke x reader end up on a mission where consecutively luke is jealous of the guy they are on the mission with but after all they face they make it through together.

Luke Castellan. Jealous

Luke Castellan X Hebe!Daughter!Reader

Summary: WHAT THE REQUEST SAID PERIOD!! 🤭🤭

Warning: insecure Luke + Sassy Luke (it's not that bad I promise), kiss scene is oddly specific

738 words 😋

A/n: HAIAI for the one that requests this - i'm not sure whether you want Dark!Luke or just Luke SO I hope you enjoy reading this! 🎀 I hope the scene adds the jealousy touch you were looking for 😭😭

As Ares sent Tom, his newly claimed son, on a quest, he surprisingly included both you and Luke.

Tensions ran high, especially when Tom, seemingly oblivious to the atmosphere, went out of his way to gain your attention.

Luke's subtle glares and tightened jawlines, and Tom, enjoying the tension he created, sported a cocky smirk.

During one skirmish, Tom took an unnecessary risk, earning a wound that you promptly tended to with nectar. Luke's eyes narrowed as he watched you care for Tom, his possessive instincts kicking in. "You're not the only one who knows how to patch up injuries," Luke muttered under his breath, his competitive spirit burning.

As the quest continued, Luke attempts to win back your attention became more apparent.

All while subtly keeping an eye on your reactions. Insecurities lingered beneath his confident exterior, and he couldn't shake the feeling that Tom's antics were slowly chipping away at your focus.

One evening, around the campfire, tensions reached their peak. Tom, in a moment of bravado, tried to impress you with a flashy display of swordplay.

Luke, unable to contain his frustration, interrupted, "Enough showing off. We're here for a quest, not a theatrical performance."

The exchange escalated into a heated argument, with Tom challenging Luke to prove himself worthy.

In the aftermath, Luke's insecurities remained, but he found a safe place within your arms - especially when you slept with your head on his shoulder.

The quest led you through treacherous terrain. Tom's eagerness to impress became more pronounced with each passing day, drawing amusement from you and aggravation from Luke.

On the second day, as you and Luke set up camp, Tom, nursing a minor injury, couldn't resist an opportunity for an ounce of your attention. "Hey, (Name), think you could patch me up? Your healing touch works wonders," he grinned, casting a challenging glance at Luke.

Luke, retorted, "Don't you have some divine healing powers, Montgomery? Or is that too much effort for the god of war's son?"

You sigh, handing Tom a spoonful of nectar. "Save the bickering for the monsters. We're here for a reason."

The next day, during a battle with harpies, Tom took an unnecessary risk in order to demonstrate his combat abilities. Luke being Luke of course he noticed the danger unfold. "Watch your back, Montgomery!" he exclaimed.

He couldn't help but mutter, "Trying to impress someone, Tom?"

Tom smirked, "Why, jealous, Castellan?"

You interrupt them with a sigh. "Enough of this. We need to focus on the quest, not on each other."

In the quiet moments, Luke's insecurities surfaced. That night, as the three of you sat around the campfire, Luke glared at Tom, "I'm not used to sharing the spotlight, especially when you're trying so hard to win my girlfriend's attention."

Tom, surprisingly, replied, "I get it, man. But she's not a prize to be won."

"Yeah well she's my girlfriend so please back off" Luke scoffed.

It was the final day, which is finally the time for the three of you to go back to the camp.

As the quest concluded with triumph, the adrenaline still coursed through your veins. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the landscape. The trio stood victorious, catching their breaths.

As you began to share congratulatory words with Tom, Luke's hand subtly found its way to yours.

With a gentle tug, Luke pulled you away from the group, guiding you toward the edge of the forest.

The air between you crackled with unspoken tension from the quest. Once beneath the canopy of trees, Luke stopped, his eyes searching yours.

"Sweet," he began, his voice low and intense. "I couldn't stand watching Tom try to steal your attention during this quest. It drove me insane."

Before you could respond, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss and the realization of how much he valued you.

The forest around you seemed to hold its breath as the kiss deepened, expressing the intensity of the emotions both of you had kept hidden.

When he finally pulled away, Luke's eyes bore into yours, a mixture of possessiveness and vulnerability. "I don't want to share you with anyone. You're mine, (Name)."

The words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of his emotions. As you reassured him by tilting your head forward and putting your soft lips on his. His lips were warm and soft. They parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slip inside.

"I love kissing you, y'know that?" Luke murmur.

[topguncortez]

Happy grad!!!

Could you please write an angst writing with reader hurting swayman using the prompt "Why would you say that? " ?

Thank you!

Only Love Can Hurt Like This - J. Swayman

hockey masterlist || g's graduation celly

warnings: angst, issues with body image, online bullying, cursing, miscommunication, hockey inaccuracies

word count: 3.8k

synopsis: what was meant to be a cute video taken by the Bruins social media team, turned into a never ending cycle of rude online comments and threats. What's worse, is your fiancé's in the first round of the playoffs and he can read you like the back of his hand

Life with Jeremy Swayman was how one would think it would be. He was as charismatic and sassy as he was on the ice and in interviews. He cared for those he loved, he did everything in his power to keep a smile on your face. He was the type of boyfriend who would buy you “just because” flowers and cook your favorite meal when there was even the slightest hint of a frown on your face. He was the type of boyfriend who knew when your period was going to start, and would make sure to be stocked up on your favorite snacks and any supplies that you would need. He was the type of boyfriend who did his best to shield you away from the hate and the trolls that came along with being with a hockey player. 

Jeremy had seen first hand how hard some people could be on the internet. He did his best to ignore the comments and the tweets, but sometimes, drowning in your own despair after losing a game was much needed therapy. 

It was actually your idea to keep your relationship private. Jeremy was the type of person who loved out loud. He loved showing off the people he loved, wanted to boast about their accomplishments to anyone and everyone who would listen. He didn’t necessarily like being the center of attention. . . but he also reveled in it. But you were the complete opposite. You never were one to post about everything single thing you did on social media. You didn’t like to be the center of attention or have everyone’s eyes on you. For the first couple months of dating, you managed to fly under the radar, which was an accomplishment in itself, but one instagram story posted by your golden retriever of a boyfriend had boosted you from “internet ghost” to “who's the girl with Jeremy Swayman.” 

The speculation firestorm had started and it ultimately led to some tech-savvy fans finding your instagram and screenshotting all of your personal photos to post on their fan accounts. At first you found it kind of sweet, the captions on the fan accounts calling you beautiful and a queen, and “Mrs. Sway” (even though at that moment in time you had only been dating for three months). But then it all started to get weird, some people finding out your birth place, your parents names, where you went to high school, where you went to college. Then the hate accounts started to rise. The vile, awful comments about you and your appearance, how you are only with Jeremy because he’s Jeremy Swayman, and one fan went as far as commenting what apartment building you lived in. 

You had never felt so violated and at a loss what to do in your life. You loved Jeremy with all your heart. You loved everything about him. It nearly broke you in two to sit down with him, tears streaming down your face as you told him about what had been going on. You thought that he would break up with you, right there in then. If you couldn’t handle being in the spotlight, then you couldn’t be the one for him. You had been replaying in your mind how you would handle it when those five words would leave his lips. Except, the opposite happened. 

Jeremy wrapped you up in the tightest, most bone crushing hug he could muster, and cried as he tucked his face into your neck. He had no idea that his one silly instagram story of you singing karaoke at the bar would turn into a mess of this caliber. He felt horrible that his “fans” were saying awful things about you and had threatened your safety. A sick feeling arose in his stomach at thought of something happening to you because of his job. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jeremy sniffled, pulling away from you, “I never wanted this to happen, I just didn’t. . . please don’t leave me. I-I’ll say something or make a post- you can move in with me! I have a state of the art security so you don’t have-” 

“Wait,” You cut off his rambling, grabbing his hands, “Leave you?” 

“Yeah,” Jeremy said defeated, “That’s what you’re doing here right? I mean, I totally get it. You have every right to feel protected and safe and not have to-” You grabbed his face with both hands, and cut his rambling off with a searing kiss. Jeremy immediately reacted, his hands going to your hips, as you kissed him. 

You pulled back breathlessly, looking into those brown eyes that you loved so much, “Jeremy Ryan Swayman, I am not leaving you. Never in a million years would I think of leaving you. . . unless you-” And now it was Jeremy’s turn to cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“Never,” Jeremy whispered against your lips, “Never ever. You’re stuck with me.” 

And for the past three years, that’s exactly where you have been. Stuck with Jeremy Swayman. You watched him grow as a goaltender and a player, which had to be one of your favorite things. He had gained so much confidence in the past three seasons with the Bruins. 

Since that day you broke down to him about the fans, the two of you had done everything you possibly can to keep your relationship off of social media. You deleted all your old social media, and made new private accounts. You and Jeremy moved into a new apartment together (he couldn’t stand the thought of someone finding out where he lived and putting you at risk, again.) Most fans had thought that you and Jeremy broke up, since your lack of presence on his social media, but the eagle eyed ones still spotted you at home games, sitting a couple rows up from the goalie net. Every so often a video of you at a game, down at the glass with Ully’s or Jeremy’s family would come up on your social media. But for the most part, the fans had completely forgotten you existed. 

That was, until the playoffs had rolled around. 

You were beyond excited for Jeremy and the Bruins to make another play-off run, after last season's heartbreak. You could remember the tear stained face of your lovable boyfriend as he walked out of the locker room and collapsed into your embrace. Brad and David did their best to console Jeremy, but he was in the state of mind to not listen to them. He was the goalie afterall, his one job was to block the other team from scoring and he failed. 

This year though, Jeremy and the Bruins were ready to make a run for the Cup. They wanted to go all the way, and were going to do all they could to get that Cup back in Boston. Though, Jeremy was excited for playoff hockey, he was also excited to see you in your WAG jacket. You opted out of getting one last year, not really feeling like you fit in amongst the rest of the wives and girlfriends of the players. You hated comparing yourself to them, but you couldn’t help it. You weren’t tall and skinny and blonde and a model like most of them. Hell, you were a third grade teacher, making not nearly a quarter of what Jeremy makes. You felt out of place amongst the WAGs. But this year was different, you had somewhat found your place, and you had the Ullmark family to thank for that. 

“Do you know what they look like?” Jeremy asked as he scrubbed the dishes after dinner. 

“No idea,” You shook your head, “Katrina and Rebecca handled all the design and stuff. I just had to go in and get measured.” 

“Your first WAG jacket,” Jeremy said with a dreamlike sigh, and looked over at you, that boyish grin on your face, “We should frame it after we win the cup,” You rolled your eyes, “No seriously! We can hang it next to my UMaine jersey. It’s poetic.” 

“Just another thing in this house with your name on it.” 

“Ahem,” He cleared his throat, pointing his finger at you, “It’s your name too.” 

A blush coated your cheeks as you looked at the diamond ring he had proposed to you with about three months ago. It was the most beautiful diamond that you had ever seen, a gift given to Jeremy from his grandma. The two of you had been waiting to tell more people about the engagement, but also wanted to wait until the season was over. If things could go Jeremy’s way, you’d be neck deep in the middle of wedding planning about now. 

“Soon,” You corrected, putting the last dish away. 

Jeremy dried his hands on a dish towel, before throwing it on his shoulder. He grabbed your hips, pulling you to him, “Soon enough,” He placed a kiss on your lips, “I bet you’ll look so hot in your WAG jacket. You already drive me crazy when you wear my jersey. Now you get your own custom made jacket with my name on it? I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.” 

You shook your head, patting his chest, “You’ll have to try, big boy.” 

Jeremy let out a groan as you walked out of his embrace. You put an extra swing in your hips as you walked to the bedroom, knowing he was watching your ass the entire way until you turned down the hall. 

— — —

It felt weird driving to TD Garden without Jeremy by your side. You had never been here without him, and felt a bit like a fish out of water as you parked in his designated spot, which was right next to Moa. You felt a wave of comfort roll over you as she smiled at you, getting out of her car to greet you. 

“You’re here!” She smiled. 

“I am,” You wiped your sweaty hands on your jeans, “Is this okay? Does my hair look okay? What about my makeup? I never put any on except for important events.” 

“You look great,” Moa said, and you could tell she was genuine. You had spent a whole forty-five minutes staring at your closet and another forty-five trying on different outfits. All Katrina and Rebecca had said was to dress your best for the photo shoot, and you weren’t entirely sure what that meant. Luckily, being a teacher, you had an arsenal of clothing for business casual. But you weren’t sure if your definition of business casual met their definition of business casual. 

“I’m nervous,” You mumbled, picking at your hands. 

Moa grabbed your hands, “I know. But there’s nothing to worry about! It’s just the girls!” 

“Yeah. . .” You sighed, as Moa threw her arm around you and walked towards the locker room where the rest of the wives and girlfriends were. 

The jackets were better than you could ever imagine. The brown leather looked simple and chic, with the logo on the front and the players’ last name on the back. You couldn’t help but feel a bit teary eyed as you ran your fingers over the stitching of your fiance’s last name. He was right, maybe you should frame it when the playoffs are over. 

Donned in your Bruins leather jacket, you and the other wives/girlfriends made your way to the plaza in front of TD Garden. The girls so naturally clumped together to take pictures, as you stood somewhat awkwardly in the midst of them. It wasn’t until Katrina pulled you to stand next to her, and wrapped her arm around your shoulders that the tension in your body eased. An easy smile arose on your face as you posed with the girls in different locations. 

��Moa and Y/N, can we get a video of you two doing the Ully-Sway hug?” One of the social media interns asked. You eagerly nodded your head, getting pulled by Moa. It was easily one of your favorite traditions in Bruins hockey, watching your bubbly, happy fiance hug his best friend after a winning game. There was something about watching two grown men, donned in goalie pads, throw themselves at one another and spin around in circles that brought a warm and fuzzy feeling to your belly and a bright smile on your face. 

You didn’t even think twice as you recreated your fiance’s famous hug with Moa. Laughter filled the air as you hugged her tight and spun in a circle. You didn’t even think twice when you got the tag on tiktok, watching the video in comparison to Ully and Sway’s over and over. You didn’t even think twice when you sent the link to the tiktok to Jeremy asking “who did it better?” You didn’t even think twice as the Bruin’s comment section was filled with fans tagging you and asking if you were back and how they knew that they saw you at games. 

You didn’t even really think about the video being on social media, until the hate comments started rolling in. 

The video hadn’t been up for more than 24 hours when the trolls and the “fans” started spewing their hateful words that you had tried so hard to fight off for the past three years. You tried your best to not pay attention to the comments as the video spread across tiktok and onto instagram and twitter. But the innocent video of two friends recreating their husbands iconic hug, turned into fans posting pictures and videos of you leaving TD Garden with Jeremy, or out on a run by yourself, or even some of the photos the WAGs had tagged you in. The pictures didn’t necessarily bother you, as much as the comments did. 

“She’s still with him!” 

“Duh, gotta play the part to get the cash.” 

“Dying for one of the WAGs to give her a makeover.” 

“How well do you think she sucked d for the jacket????” 

“I thought we got rid of her” 

“It’s nice to see a midsized wag” 

“Since when did puck bunnies become wags” 

“Living every puck bunnies dream” 

“I miss his old gf, she was prettier” 

“She's probably for the team” 

“He will realize soon when she leaves him if he doesn't get the cup” 

“And how many more does he have in other cities?” 

You were sitting at your vanity, fighting with your inner thoughts when you should’ve been getting ready for the first game in the playoff series. It was a big night for Jeremy, and all you wanted to do was get dressed in your outfit that you and Moa had gone shopping for and wear that beautiful brown leather jacket with your future last name on it. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t bring yourself to take your hair out of the curlers you had begrudgingly put in your hair, or start your makeup routine, or even get dressed as you sat in one of Jeremy’s dress shirts and panties. Jeremy was singing loudly along to his pre-pre game playlist in the bathroom, not paying any mind to the war that was going on in your head. 

The comments had gotten worse since some of the wives posted pictures of everyone in their jackets. Some fans had found your new instagram account, tagging you in the comments. You felt horrible that their nastiness was being left on other people’s posts. It made you feel as though they were growing to resent you, as no one had reached out and invited you to sit in the box, until Moa did this morning. It took all your strength to not break down and cry, knowing that you had been left out of planning of something, when you finally felt like you had made it “in” to the group. 

The comments were also taking a toll on yourself image. You took longer than necessary staring at your naked body in the mirror, analyzing every stretch mark, scar, and blemish on your skin. You pulled and pinched at your belly, your hip dips, your chin, and your thighs. All the places you had been insecure about the most, the fans seemed to figure out and make comments on. It was truly amazing how the comments could drive so deep into your heart. 

“Baby!” Jeremy’s cheerful voice sounded out as he came out of the bathroom, dress pants on his perfectly chiseled body. You clenched your jaw, fighting back the anger. Normally, you’d be drooling over the sight of his perfect abs on display, his pants low on his hips, but right now it made you angry. Sure, he followed the meal plan that his trainers gave him, but he’d also have his cheat days. But you’d never know looking at him. You’d never know that this man could pack away a dozen donuts like it was nothing. But you felt like you'd pop the button in your jeans if you even ate one. 

“Babe?” Jeremy asked, catching your attention, “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you dressed?” 

You blinked, looking down at your makeup brushes laid out in front of you, “I got distracted.” 

Jeremy wasn’t buying it for a second. He knew you like the back of his hand, and could sense something was off from a mile away. He walked over to you, kneeling down in front of you and grabbing your hands, “Honey, look at me.” 

You glanced at him, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. You had been trying everything that you could to hold back from breaking down. Tonight and this playoff season was too important to Jermey and the team that you couldn’t be breaking down in tears over some stupid people on the internet. But the way Jeremy was looking at you, searching your eyes for any idea of what was bothering you, the flood gates broke. 

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed. 

“Oh honey,” Jeremy cooed, pulling you into his strong arms. Your body shook as you cried, his hand on the back of your head, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and running a comforting hand over your hair. Hearing you cry made his heart break, and tears well up in your own eyes. He tried so hard to make sure that you never had a reason to cry like this, and he felt like he had failed you. When your sobs had been reduced to sniffles, Jeremy pulled you back gently, his hands cupping your face and brushing away the stray tears. 

“Please,” Jeremy pleaded, “Tell me what’s wrong? And don’t lie to me. I know something’s been bothering you for a few days now. Please tell me, so I can fix it.” 

You shook your head, a sad smile on your face, “You can’t fix this.” 

“Well, I can try.” 

You let out a shuddering breath as you grabbed your phone, opening up your camera roll and showing him the screenshots of a series of comments from several different posts. Jeremy’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at them. You watched as he went from confused to angry to sad. He looked up at you, his brown eyes wet with tears. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

You shrugged, wiping your nose, “Cause you’re busy and it’s the playoffs and I shouldn’t be bothering you with this-” 

“Bothering me with this stuff? Why would you say that? You’re not bothering me with anything,” Jeremy shifted closer to you, “You are my life, Y/N. You are my everything. For better or for worse. In good times and bad. I might not be able to fix all this, but I will do everything I possibly can to make it better.” 

The tears fell even harder as you looked at him. He looked torn to pieces that you had kept this from him, and it made you feel horrible. You thought you were protecting him by not bringing this up, but it had made you feel even worse going through all this alone. 

“I just feel. . . I feel like I have fucked everything up,” You admitted, “They’re leaving comments on the girls’ posts, and on the Bruins’ page. I mean, it makes sense that the girls didn’t want to invite me to the box tonight.” 

“What?” Jeremy’s eyebrows rose in confusion. 

“They didn’t invite me to the box,” You said, your voice sounding small. 

“No, baby, no,” Jeremy shook his head, running hand down his face, “I. . .” He sighed, “I let it slip at practice that I proposed.” 

“Jer!” 

“I’m sorry!” Jeremy exclaimed, “I know, I know you wanted to wait until after the playoffs to say something, but. . . you sent that video and Ully said something about “our girls look good” and I said “you mean our wives,” He shook his head, “Ully told Moa and Moa told Katrina and Katrina wanted to surprise you with a small engagement type party in the box.” 

“It was supposed to be a surprise?” 

Jeremy nodded, “It was supposed to be a surprise. I didn’t know that all this other stuff was going on, but I promise! I promise. . . they weren’t leaving you out, baby.” 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Tears welled up in your eyes again, and this time Jeremy was confused, “That’s the nicest thing anyone has done for me.” 

Jeremy felt his heart flutter in his chest, as he wiped a tear away from your cheek, “I’m sorry I let it slip and didn’t tell you about the surprise,” He grabbed both of your hands in his, “And I am so sorry about the things they are saying, but none of it is true. It is the farthest thing from true. You are my everything. You are the reason I wake up in the morning, the reason I smile, the reason I get out on the ice every day. You are the reason for everything. And nothing is going to change that.” 

“You don’t care that I don’t look-” 

“I’m not even going to let you finish that sentence cause that’s just ridiculous,” He shook his head, “I want you. I will always want you. Even when we’re 80 years old, and I’ve taken one too many pucks to the head and can’t wipe my own ass, I will want you, as long as you will have me.” 

“I’ll want you too,” You said, a tearful smile on your face, “And you’ve taken one too many pucks to the head now,” He chuckled, bringing your knuckles up to his lips. 

“I’ll keep taking pucks to the head if it means that it makes you smile.” 

“As long as you have all your teeth.” 

“No promises.” You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him away. Jeremy stood up, and gently tilted your head up so he could place a kiss on your forehead, “Fuck what they say cause nothing matters. The hate they spew is because they’re jealous and miserable in their own lives. What matters is you and me. As long as we are happy, they can just fuck right off.” 

You smiled up at him, “I’ll always be happy with you.”

tagging: @roosterdobson cause you're the reason I'm obsessed with a man who catches rubber pucks for a living

[zvaigzdelasas]

[BBC is UK State Media]

The United Arab Emirates (UAE) has funded politically-motivated assassinations in Yemen, a BBC investigation has found, exacerbating a conflict involving the Yemeni government and warring factions which has recently returned to the international spotlight following attacks on ships in the Red Sea.

Counter-terrorism training provided by American mercenaries to Emirati officers in Yemen has been used to train locals who can work under a lower profile - sparking a major uptick in political assassinations, a whistleblower told BBC Arabic Investigations.

The BBC has also found that despite the American mercenaries' stated aim to eliminate the jihadist groups al-Qaeda and Islamic State (IS) in southern Yemen, in fact the UAE has gone on to recruit former al-Qaeda members for a security force it has created on the ground in Yemen to fight the Houthi rebel movement and other armed factions.

The UAE government has denied the allegations in our investigation - that it had assassinated those without links to terrorism - saying they were "false and without merit".

These are largely between the two parts of the "real" "legitimate" "internationally recognized" coalition govt of Yemen you've been scolded so much about over the last month btw [22 Jan 24]

Continued after the cut

The killing spree in Yemen - more than 100 assassinations in a three-year period - is just one element of an ongoing bitter internecine conflict pitting several international powers against each other in the Middle East's poorest country.[...]

In 2015, the US and the UK supported a coalition of mostly Arab states led by Saudi Arabia - with the UAE as a key partner - to fight back. The coalition invaded Yemen with the aim of reinstating the exiled Yemeni government and fighting terrorism. The UAE was given charge of security in the south, and became the US's key ally on counter-terrorism in the region - al-Qaeda had long been a presence in the south and was now gaining territory.[...]

Under international law, any killing of civilians without due process would be counted as extra-judicial.

The majority of those assassinated were members of Islah - the Yemeni branch of the Muslim Brotherhood. It [...] has never been classified by the US as a terror organisation, but is banned in several Arab countries - including the UAE where its political activism and support for elections is seen by the country's royal family as a threat to their rule.

Leaked drone footage of the first assassination mission gave me a starting point from which to investigate these mysterious killings. It was dated December 2015 and was traced to members of a private US security company called Spear Operations Group.[...]

Isaac Gilmore, a former US Navy Seal who later became chief operating officer of Spear, was one of several Americans who say they were hired to carry out assassinations in Yemen by the UAE.

He refused to talk about anyone who was on the "kill list" provided to Spear by the UAE - other than the target of their first mission: Ansaf Mayo, a Yemeni MP who is the leader of Islah in the southern port city of Aden, the government's temporary capital since 2015.[...]

Mr Gilmore, and another Spear employee in Yemen at the time - Dale Comstock - told me that the mission they conducted ended in 2016. But the assassinations in southern Yemen continued. In fact they became more frequent, according to investigators from the human rights group Reprieve.

They investigated 160 killings carried out in Yemen between 2015 and 2018. They said the majority happened from 2016 and only 23 of the 160 people killed had links to terrorism. All the killings had been carried out using the same tactics that Spear had employed - the detonation of an improvised explosive device (IED) as a distraction, followed by a targeted shooting. The most recent political assassination in Yemen, according to Yemeni human rights lawyer Huda al-Sarari, happened just last month - of an imam killed in Lahj by the same method.[...]

Mr Gilmore, Mr Comstock, and two other mercenaries from Spear who asked not to be named, said that Spear had been involved in training Emirati officers in the UAE military base in Aden. A journalist who asked to remain anonymous also told us he had seen footage of such training.

As the mercenaries' profile had made them conspicuous in Aden and vulnerable to exposure, their brief had been changed to training Emirati officers, "who in turn trained local Yemenis to do the targeting", the Yemeni military officer told me.

Through the course of the investigation, we also spoke to more than a dozen other Yemeni sources who said this had been the case. They included two men who said they had carried out assassinations which were not terror-related, after being trained to do so by Emirati soldiers - and one man who said he had been offered release from a UAE prison in exchange for the assassination of a senior Yemeni political figure, a mission he did not accept.

Getting Yemenis to conduct the assassinations meant it was harder for the killings to be traced back to the UAE.

By 2017, the UAE had helped build a paramilitary force, part of the Emirati-funded Southern Transitional Council (STC), a security organisation that runs a network of armed groups across southern Yemen.

The force operated in southern Yemen independently of the Yemeni government, and would only take orders from the UAE. The fighters were not just trained to fight on active front lines. One particular unit, the elite Counter Terrorism Unit, was trained to conduct assassinations, our whistleblower told us.

The whistleblower sent a document with 11 names of former al-Qaeda members now working in the STC, some of whose identities we were able to verify ourselves.

During our investigation we also came across the name Nasser al-Shiba. Once a high-ranking al-Qaeda operative, he was jailed for terrorism but later released. A Yemeni government minister we spoke to told us al-Shiba was a known suspect in the attack on the US warship USS Cole, which killed 17 American sailors in October 2000. Multiple sources told us that he is now the commander of one of the STC military units. Lawyer Huda al-Sarari has been investigating human rights abuses committed by these UAE-backed forces on the ground. As a result of her work, she would frequently receive death threats. But it was her 18-year-old son Mohsen who paid the ultimate price.

He was shot in the chest in March 2019 while on a trip to a local petrol station, and died a month later.[...]

A subsequent investigation by Aden's public prosecutor found that Mohsen was killed by a member of the UAE-backed Counter Terrorism Unit, but the authorities have never pursued a prosecution.

Members of the prosecutor's office - who we cannot name for safety reasons - told us that the widespread assassinations have created a climate of fear that means even they are too afraid to pursue justice in cases involving forces backed by the UAE.

Reprieve has received a leaked UAE document that shows Spear was still being paid in 2020, though it is not clear in what capacity.

[simply-ivanka]

Who’s Afraid of Project 2025?

Democrats run against a think-tank paper that Trump disavows. Why?

Wall Street Journal

July 29, 2024

By The Editorial Board

Americans are learning more about Kamala Harris, as Democrats rush to anoint the Vice President’s candidacy after throwing President Biden overboard. Ms. Harris wasted no time saying she’s going to run hard against a policy paper that Donald Trump has disavowed—the supposedly nefarious agenda known as Project 2025. But who’s afraid of a think-tank white paper?

“I will do everything in my power to unite the Democratic Party—and unite our nation—to defeat Donald Trump and his extreme Project 2025 agenda,” Ms. Harris tweeted shortly after President Biden dropped out. She’s picking up this ball from Mr. Biden, and her campaign website claims that Project 2025 would “strip away our freedoms” and “abolish checks and balances.”

***

Sounds terrible, but is it? The 922-page document doesn’t lack for modesty, as a wish list of policy reforms that would touch every part of government from the Justice Department to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. The project is led by the Heritage Foundation and melds the work of some 400 scholars and analysts from an eclectic mix of center-right groups. The project is also assembling a Rolodex of those who might work in a Trump Administration.

Most of the Democratic panic-mongering has focused on the project’s aim to rein in the administrative state. That includes civil service reform that would make it easier to remove some government workers, and potentially revisiting the independent status of agencies like the Federal Trade Commission.

The latter isn’t going to happen, but getting firmer presidential control over the bureaucracy would improve accountability. The federal government has become so vast that Presidents have difficulty even knowing what is going on in the executive branch. Americans don’t want to be ruled by a permanent governing class that doesn’t answer to voters.

Some items on this menu are also standard conservative fare. The document calls for an 18% corporate tax rate (now 21%), describing that levy as “the most damaging tax” in the U.S. system that falls heavily on workers. A mountain of economic literature backs that up. The blueprint suggests tying more welfare programs with work; de-regulating health insurance markets; expanding Medicare Advantage plans that seniors like; ending sugar subsidies; revving up U.S. energy production. That all sounds good to us.

Democrats are suggesting the project would gut Social Security, though in fact it bows to Mr. Trump’s preference not to touch the retirement program, which is headed for bankruptcy without reform. No project can profess to care about the rising national debt, as Heritage does, without fixing a program that was 22% of the federal budget in 2023.

At times the paper takes no position. For example: The blueprint features competing essays on trade policy. This is a tacit admission that for all the GOP’s ideological confusion on economics, many conservatives still understand that Mr. Trump’s 10% tariff is a terrible idea.

As for the politics, Mr. Trump recently said online that he knew “nothing about Project 2025. I have no idea who is behind it.” That may be true. The chance that Mr. Trump has read any of it is remote to nil, and he doesn’t want to be tied to anyone’s ideas since he prizes maximum ideological flexibility.

The document mentions abortion nearly 200 times, but Mr. Trump wants to neutralize that issue. The project’s chief sponsor, Heritage president Kevin Roberts, also gave opponents a sword when he boasted of “a second American revolution” that would be peaceful “if the left allows it to be.” This won’t help Mr. Trump with the swing voters he needs to win re-election.

By our lights the project’s cultural overtones are also too dark and the agenda gives too little spotlight to the economic freedom and strong national defense that defined the think tank’s influence on Ronald Reagan in 1980.

***

But the left’s campaign against Project 2025 is reaching absurd decibels. You’d think Mr. Trump is a political mastermind hiding the secret plans he’ll implement with an army of shock troops marching in lockstep. If his first term is any guide, and it is the best we have, Mr. Trump will govern as a make-it-up-as-he-goes tactician rather than a strategist with a coherent policy guide. He’ll dodge and weave based on the news cycle and often based on whoever talks to him last.

Not much of the Project 2025 agenda is likely to happen, even if Republicans take the House and Senate. Democrats will block legislation with a filibuster. The bureaucracy will leak with abandon and oppose even the most minor reforms to the civil service. The press will revert to full resistance mode, and Mr. Trump’s staff will trip over their own ambitions.

Democrats know this, which is why they fear Trump II less than they claim. They’re targeting Project 2025 to distract from their own failed and unpopular policies.

[housederiva]

Shadow Dragons Blurb anon - YES that's exactly the one I mean! The little backstory bit when selecting the faction?

Fantastic! (I put the og question in this for anyone else who's confused)

I'm going to break down every part of it because I'm not sure how long you've been playing Dragon Age or how much preexisting lore you know, and I'm wording this like you've never played a DA game before (sorry for any redundancy) Also this is just my take on it so keep that in mind xx

Rook risked everything to liberate the incident people of Tevinter, even though it would anger the ruin elite -> Tevinter was built on and functions upon the back of their slaves' labor. Without it, the empire is nothing. This makes the Shadow Dragons as a concept and an organization a threat to the empire's power

The foundling Rook was adopted into a military family and joined the Shadow Dragons to fight from the shadows for change in Minrathous. -> A foundling is someone who was abandoned as an infant or a very young child and then cared for by the people who found them (which gives the 4 race options an explanation as to why they're in the city...or at least the player the ability to infer one themselves) Minrathous is the capital and largest city in Tevinter and where all the big decisions get made. The military aspect of the Mercar family to me implies Rook's adopted family are Soporati, which is one of the lower classes in Tevinter - members of this class often serve in the military. (The family's rank would be higher if any of them are mages, how many generations of mages the Mercars' have would raise the rank even higher. Personally, I'm interested in what happens if you play as a mage Rook and if no other Mercar has magic and if any of them will be seen outside my AO3)

While guarding a visiting dignitary who was investigating a slavery ring in the nearby city of Nessus, Rook concluded that the mission would fail without throwing caution to the wind. -> Rook was on a job for the Shadow Dragons where they were ment to act as a bodyguard for an unknown man of high rank (my fingers are crossed that it was Dorian) I believe Nessus is a typo and it's supposed to be Nessum, the city featured in Absolution. Whoever the dignitary was, he wasn't able to get the information he needed to uncover/stop the slave ring one way or another so Rook overstepped themselves, disobeying orders to just guard the dignitary to get him to the information he needed by putting him in danger

Alone, they snuck the dignitary deep into Venatori-controlled zones and brought him back, along with the rescued slaves. -> Venatori are blood magic and red lyrium (both not good) using mages which are rotting Tevinter from the top down, They're the main antagonistic force against everything the Shadow Dragons stand for. So, not only did Rook disobey their orders, they led this important official through very dangerous spaces that, if they had gotten caught, would have gotten both of them killed and compromise a part of if not all of their faction. However, the risk of getting the dignitary closer to the ring paid off and every slave was freed, and the dignitary was returned unharmed

These actions brought Rook to the Venatori's attention, and the Shadow Dragons decided to keep Rook out of sight. -> Rook's on a shit list now. The opposition knows what they look like/who they are and has been effectively taken from the shadows and put under a spotlight. I'm assuming the Viper, the leader of the Shadow Dragons, made the call to shelve Rook so no other job would be compromised by them being recognized

[ekat-fandom-blog]

Mythical au

Alfred had been the guardian angel of the Wayne family for many centuries. He'd been worried that he'd be forced to watch over a different family after Bruce died, but luckily he'd decided to take in Dick then Jason then a whole slew of children after and he didn't worry about being taken from his family for decades at a time. There would be challenges, he knew, but nothing he wouldn't do for his family.

When Bruce brought home two half dead children, Alfred knew that they were going to be a permanent fixture in the family's lives even if Bruce insisted that he was only fostering them until their aunt could safely take them in.

↓ more ideas ↓

Alfred Guardian angel - has a human form, minor healing powers, minor precognition concerning their charges He's the guardian of the Wayne family and upon his "death" he'll go visit his previous charges. After a few years in heaven, he'll choose a new form and come back to Earth. Knows what species his wards are almost immediately, but tries not to say anything as it's typically considered rude to talk about someone else's species without them saying something first. He isn't aware that some of his charges have no clue they're anything other than human.

Bruce Human No one but Alfred, his teammates, and his children believe Batman is human. No one thinks Brucie could be anything but human. His kids have a running joke that he's not actually human.

Dick Selkie - seal that can turn into a human, in human form they have a coat, if a human steals said coat they can force the selkie to do whatever they want, can be vengeful and dangerous, are normally friendly helpful and attractive. He takes many precautions to hide his coat from everyone. He sometimes sneaks to the pool in the mansion to swim. Bruce didn't know for a few months. Jason didn't find out until before Ethiopia. Tim figured it out after one month. Damian didn't know until Dick decided that Damian wouldn't use his coat against him.

Jason Wraith - steals/hoards souls, holds grudges, targets those who've wronged them until they've captured their soul and can force them to wander outside of the spirit world for eternity. He became a wraith after being resurrected and is very vaguely aware of being one. He's definitely collecting and hoarding souls, but has no idea what to do with the souls he collects. His ultimate goal is to collect Joker's soul and force him to wander aimlessly for eternity. He absent mindedly tries to take any ghosts for his hoard whenever he zones out around them. The magic community and ghost community are aware of this very-much-alive wraith and have mixed feelings about it, but the overall consensus is that it's a bit funny. His family - except Alfred, Danny, and Dani - don't know.

Tim Sphinx - smart, guardian, can prophesy, ferocious, generous, merciful He doesn't know he's a sphinx. He gets glimpses of the future but doesn't normally say anything to warrant anyone becoming suspicious of him having prophetic dreams. If he was aware he was a sphinx, he'd be able to tap into his true form and become stronger, faster, and better at controlling his prophetic ability.

Damian Imp - crafty and mischievous demons with minor magical abilities and a craving for the spotlight, typically garners attention from those who want to enslave them, born pranksters, impulsive, good at shapeshifting and conjuring fire He's very unaware that he's an imp. Talia is also unaware. Ra's is aware and hiding the fact that they're imps.

Danny Halfa He's very confused about Jason being a fully alive ghost (almost, kinda). He does think it's funny when (in ghost form) Jason tries to add him to his hoard of souls when he's sleepy or absent minded.

Dani Will-o-wisp halfa - mischievous, sometimes they're reported to have led people away from their deaths and sometimes they are reported to be the cause of people's death mostly due to causing confusion in said people. Dani's aware of being a will-o-wisp, seeing as she shines brighter than Danny and has a propensity for wandering and mischief. Also, she was told about being a wisp by a wisp while traveling. She also thinks it's funny when Jason tries to add her and Danny to his soul hoard when he's sleepy or absent minded (when they're in ghost form of course, he doesn't react when they're in human form).

[sizzlingstarlightsky]

*I Have A Suprise

Kinktober 2024: Dove Fucking

Nesta x Reader

word count: 2500

cw: wlw, dove fucking (boob play), oral, lap dancing, friends to lovers, porn with plot

"You're seriously going to wear that?" Your's voice pierced the stillness of the dimly lit room.

Your eyes widened in mock horror as you took in the sight of your best friend, Nesta, dressed in a form-fitting black dress that accentuated every curve.

Nesta shot you a glare so sharp it could've sliced through the tension in the air.

"It's not like you're one to talk, wearing that," she retorted, gesturing at your own ensemble, which was admittedly more suited for a night out than the quiet dinner you two had planned.

"It's just... I've never seen you in something so revealing," you said, your eyes lingering on her ample chest.

"I mean, those boobs are like the size of my head."

Nesta rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smug smile that tugged at her lips.

"Well, they're not going anywhere, so get used to it," she quipped, turning to face the mirror to give her hair one last fluff with her fingers.

Her dress, which was indeed quite daring, hugged her body in a way that left little to the imagination. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, emphasizing her toned thighs and the curve of her hips.

You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious next to her.

Nesta caught your reflection in the mirror and chuckled.

"Don't worry," she assured you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You look stunning." With a knowing smile.

You raised an eyebrow in question, and she leaned in closer, whispering,

"I have a surprise for you."

The quiet dinner you'd both planned turned out to be anything but.

You tried to focus on the conversation, but your eyes kept drifting down to the swell of her breasts, the way they seemed to defy gravity with every laugh or sip of wine she took. You felt your own face flush with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity.

As the evening progressed, the whispers grew louder from the corner of the room. A small stage had been set up, adorned with velvet curtains and flickering candles.

The anticipation in the air was palpable as a spotlight hit the stage and the music grew louder, a sultry bass that made the floorboards throb.

Nesta's hand tightened on your forearm.

"Remember what I said about the surprise?" she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

With a wink, she stands from the table and leaves you to watch as her hips sway with every step away from you.

The velvet curtains parted to reveal Nesta, now dressed in a feathery ensemble that left even less to the imagination than her dinner attire. Her legs seemed to stretch on forever, encased in fishnet stockings that led up to a garter belt.

Your jaw dropped as she began to dance, her movements fluid and powerful, showcasing a side of her you never knew existed.

She'd always been confident, but this... this was something else entirely.

The spotlight traced the contours of her body as she moved to the rhythm of the music, hips swaying and breasts bouncing in time with the bass. The other patrons of the restaurant had all but forgotten their meals, their eyes glued to the captivating performance unfolding before them.

A twinge of something uncomfortable gnawed at your chest as you watched her, a cocktail of emotions swirling into a potent mix of arousal and jealousy. You felt your own heart race as the music grew more intense, the notes echoing the pulse between your legs. It was impossible to ignore the way Nesta's eyes found yours in the crowd, holding your gaze as if daring you to look away.

The dance grew more daring with each passing moment, and your eyes were glued to her, drinking in every inch of her exposed skin.

You could feel your breath hitch as she spun around, her thighs, her breasts threatening to spill out of the flimsy top at any second. You'd never seen Nesta like this before, and you found yourself torn between admiration and a desperate need to claim her attention.

The music reached its crescendo, and as the final beat faded away, the curtains closed with a dramatic flourish.

The applause was thunderous.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you waited, unsure of what was to come next. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

The walk home was a blur of giggles fueled by the heady wine and the electricity still crackling in the air. The cool evening did little to quell the fire in your cheeks as you both stumbled down the cobblestone streets, arms entwined to keep each other steady.

Once back at the apartment, the laughter subsided into a warm glow of camaraderie. Nesta sailed through the door.

She turned to you, her eyes darkening to a smolder that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You liked the show?" she purred, her voice dropping an octave.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words. Nesta's smug smile grew wider as she stepped closer.

"Good," she said, her voice a whisper "because I have another surprise for you."

Before you could react, she grabbed you by the hand and pulled you into the living room.

The space had been transformed into a makeshift dance floor, with the lights dimmed to a seductive glow. A chair sat in the center, a silent invitation that sent a thrill of anticipation down your spine. Nesta pushed you into it, her hands firm but gentle.

"You enjoyed watching me dance," she murmured, "now it's your turn to feel it."

Her movements were a mesmerizing blend of grace and power as the dinner dress whispering against her skin. Her hips rolled with the sultry beat of the music that filled the room, and your eyes followed every curve as she got closer.

Then she was straddling your lap, her thighs pressing against yours, her breasts mere inches from your face.

The fabric of her dress was so thin that you could feel the heat of her body through it, and the way she moved made your own thighs ache with a need that was as foreign as it was insatiable.

You reached up, tentative at first, to touch the soft skin of her waist. Nesta's eyes never left yours, and she leaned in, her breath hot on your face.

"Is this what you want?" she murmured, her voice a siren's call that you couldn't resist.

Your nod was all the invitation she needed. Her hands found the zipper of her dress and, with a slow, deliberate motion, she slid it down her back.

The dress pooled around her waist, exposing her to you.

Her breasts were full and heavy, the rosy tips peeking out from the lacy bra she wore.

You swallowed hard, your eyes greedily taking in the sight of her. The ache between your legs grew stronger, and you could feel your arousal pulsing with every heartbeat.

Nesta leaned in, her breasts brushing against your cheeks as she whispered,

"You like what you see?" Her breath was sweet and warm, and the smell of her arousal filled the air, making your head spin.

You nodded again, unable to find your voice.

"Good," she murmured, her hands reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. The fabric fell away, and her breasts spilled out, full and inviting.

Her skin was so soft, so warm. You extended a hand out, cupping one of them in your grasp.

She gasped as you gently squeezed, and the sound went straight to your core.

Without another word, she leaned in and pressed her lips to yours. Her tongue danced with yours, her teeth grazing your lower lip.

You could taste the sweetness of the wine on her breath, and it made you want her even more.

Your hands slid up her back, tangling in her hair, pulling her closer. The chair creaked under your combined weight, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the feel of her, the taste of her.

Nesta's hand slid down to your face, her fingers tracing the line of your neck, then dipping lower to graze the swell of your own breasts.

You moaned into her mouth as she pinched your nipple through the fabric of your dress. The sensation was exquisite.

You felt your hands roam down her body, finding the bare skin of her waist and sliding up to cup her breasts.

Your thumbs circled her erect nipples, eliciting a soft moan from her lips that spurred you on. Her skin was like silk under your fingertips, and you marveled at the feel of her, the weight of her breasts in your hands.

"Nes-" The moan that escaped your lips was a sound you didn't even know you could make, a raw and desperate sound that seemed to echo in the quiet room.

Nesta's kiss grew more demanding, her teeth nipping at your bottom lip before her mouth moved down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses. You could hear the faint sound of your own breathing, shallow and ragged, mingling with the lewd sounds of Nesta's mouth against your skin.

"You like that, don't you?" she murmured against your throat, her voice a dark promise.

Her hand slid between your thighs, and she didn't bother hiding the smirk when she felt the wetness.

"So wet already," she whispered, her finger tracing a lazy circle around the fabric covering your clit.

You nodded, unable to form words as the pressure grew.

She chuckled, the sound a dark and thrilling melody.

"Say it," she urged, her breath warm against your ear. "Tell me how much you want me to make you come."

Your voice was a needy whisper.

"I...I want it," you admitted, your cheeks flushing. "Please, Nesta."

Nesta's smirk grew into a full smile.

"Since you asked so nicely," she murmured, and with a swift movement, she yanked up your dress, revealing your soaked panties to the cool air.

She traced a finger along the fabric, watching with satisfaction as your hips bucked involuntarily.

With Valkyrie strength, she hoisted you up and carried you to the bedroom.

She tossed you onto the bed, and you watched in awe as she straddled you again, her bare breasts bouncing with the motion.

Her fingers danced down your body, teasing the skin of your stomach before finding the waistband of your underwear.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent them flying across the room.

You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed skin, your eyes never leaving hers.

"Look at you," she murmured, her voice a purr that seemed to resonate through your very core. "So eager, so beautiful."

Her hand slid lower, her fingers finding the dampness between your legs.

You bucked at the first touch, a gasp escaping your lips as she began to rub slow, lazy circles around your clit.

"You're so wet," she said, her voice thick with lust. "It's like you've been waiting for this all night."

And maybe you had. You'd never felt this way about a friend before, but as Nesta's skilled fingers worked you, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd been waiting for her all along.

Her eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all she found was an unspoken plea for more.

Her mouth followed the path her hand had traced, her tongue replacing the circles of her fingers. The sensation was overwhelming, the gentle flicks and nips sending shockwaves through your body.

You arched your back, your hips rising to meet her mouth as she suckled and licked with an expertise that spoke of long nights spent exploring her own desires.

You felt her teeth graze the sensitive skin around your clit, and a jolt of pleasure shot through you like lightning.

Your breath hitched as you reached down to tangle your fingers in her hair, urging her closer.

Nesta's moan vibrated against your sensitive flesh, sending a shiver down your spine. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter with every touch.

But just as you thought you couldn't handle it anymore, she stopped, leaving you gasping for breath.

With a wicked smile, she climbed up your body, her breasts brushing against your thighs. You watched, panting, as her hands cupping the generous mounds of her breasts.

"Ever had your pussy rubbed with these?" she teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Before you could respond, she pushed her breasts together, creating a warm, soft cushion that she pressed against your throbbing clit.

The sensation was godly. She'd found the perfect pressure, the perfect angle, and the perfect friction all at once.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as she began to rock her chest against you, her nipples grazing the insides of your thighs.

The feeling was so intense, so new, that you could do nothing but moan and buck your hips up to meet her.

Nesta's eyes never left yours as she worked her breasts against you, her own arousal evident in the flush that stained her cheeks.

The pressure built and built, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You felt like you were drowning in sensation, unable to do anything but clutch at the bedsheets and hold on for dear life.

Your eyes fluttered closed as the tension grew, and you could feel the beginnings of your orgasm coiling in your belly.

"Look at me," Nesta whispered, her voice a siren's call that you couldn't ignore.

You forced your eyes open to find her watching you, her expression a heady mix of desire and power.

"I want to see your eyes when you come for me."

Her breasts slid against your clit, the sensation building with every movement. You could feel the orgasm rising within you, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to consume you.

Your hips bucked against her, and you moaned her name like a prayer.

"Nes... Nes... oh fuck!"

Nesta's own breath grew ragged, and you could feel her heart racing as she watched you fall apart under her. Her eyes searched yours, looking for the telltale signs of your climax.

"That's it," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm in the storm of sensation. "Come for me, baby."

The words sent you hurtling over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you like a tornado. Your body arched off the bed, your back bowing as the pleasure consumed you. You could feel your muscles tightening, the coil inside you snapping as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

Nesta's eyes never left yours, her own arousal palpable as she watched you come undone.

As your body relaxed, she leaned in and captured your mouth in a fiery kiss, tasting the sweetness of your release.

The moment hung in the air, electric and charged, before she pulled back to whisper against your skin.

"Your turn."

I have no idea who wants to be in my kinktober taglist so let me know 🖤 @chunkypossum @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @ysmtttty @nessiandefenseattorney @nocasdatsgay @secret-third-thing @azysmate @yennas-stuff @a-courtof-azriel

[keiffeine]

look at me, not him

coriolanus snow x gender-neutral reader

tags: slightly possessive! + jealous!coriolanus

author’s note: sorry this was so delayed 💀 i wanted to write it less bulletpoint-y like how i normally do with headcanons bc i wanted it to be more like a fic. hopefully you enjoy 🩷 it’s a little rushed esp towards the ending lol

word count: 1,036

reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is not allowed.

coriolanus never married you with the intention of loving you or actually caring about you. rather, his intention was purely for his own self-benefit. as he rose to success as a young politician, basking within the spotlight the capitol so graciously dawned on him, it only made sense that a man with this much power to his name alone would marry someone who was, at the very least, equal to him.

you were perfect for him. your family was one of the most successful families within the capitol, holding generations-worth of wealth and status—which he needed for himself.

after marriage, coriolanus was very content with how his life was. he wasn’t really obligated to spend time with you or anything of the sort—he viewed it as something more…optional. he had already gotten what he wanted; access to your wealth and the mere status to your name, so everything after that came second. meals together consisted of little to no conversation, and even though you shared a room and a bed, you slept with your backs facing each other.

you were simply just his spouse, someone he could ultimately leech off of to power his personal gain. nothing but an accessory on his arm to make him look good in public. the most affectionate you’ve ever seen him was whenever there were news reporters and cameras around; he’d plant seemingly-loving kisses to your lips or hold you close for no other purpose other than for a good public appearance.

you were never much of a priority in his mind, up until he sees you talking with some man at an event that was hosting some the richest and most influential capitol citizens. whoever this was, he was making you laugh and smile, which felt like such a rarity of a sight in coriolanus’ eyes. you always looked so solemn when you were together, but right now, your face shined so bright, with the most genuine smile he’s ever seen. it wasn’t out of politeness for the sake of etiquette, but a real smile.

it made his blood boil, to say the least. that man was so obviously flirting with you; the way he was standing so close to you, gaze flitting from your eyes then to your lips then back again. coriolanus couldn’t help but wonder: were you seriously this oblivious, or were you trying to make him jealous on purpose?

coriolanus couldn’t help but scowl, watching you conversing with this stranger. who even was he? what could you possibly be talking about that made you look so entertained? you’d been talking for…what, the past…fifteen…twenty minutes already? surely you were bored at this point, right? he wasn’t even worth an ounce of your time. when were you going to stop talking to him and walk away?

coriolanus hated everything about this, weirdly enough. normally, at events like these, he could care less about who you talked to, but the more coriolanus continued to watch you talk to him, the more he wanted to drag you away himself.

as soon as he decided he’d had enough, coriolanus walked over to you, pulling on a tight and forced smile as he snaked an arm around your waist.

“i’m sorry to interrupt,” coriolanus said in a calm, collected voice, looking down at you before turning his head to whoever you’d been speaking to, “but i must speak to my spouse about something. please, excuse us for a moment.” with that, he led you away, bringing you to a secluded spot to ensure your privacy.

“what the hell was that?” coriolanus asked, furrowing his eyes as he kept his eyes down at you, feeling furious but relieved that he finally had you alone. relieved that your attention was on him now. “were you flirting with him?”

you scoffed, baffled that you’d be accused of something like that. “flirting, coriolanus? seriously…” you said with a sigh, seeming equally frustrated and confused.

coriolanus rolled his eyes, then moved a step closer, keeping you against the wall. “don’t play dumb, y/n, that man was clearly flirting with you,” he mumbled, placing his hand on the wall, right beside your head.

“we were just talking, coriolanus, my god.” you folded your arms, tilting your head up and meeting his eyes. “besides, i wouldn’t understand why you would care.”

coriolanus swallowed, not daring to look away from you. he held your gaze, pressing closer and completely aware of the very little distance between the both of you.

“why i care? you wouldn’t understand why i care?” coriolanus whispered, his voice dropping to a low tone that sent a shiver down your spine. “i care because you are my spouse, y/n. my spouse. you’re mine, understand?” he watched your face, noting the slight color that tinted your cheeks as he spoke to you.

“i just want you to look at me the way you were looking at him,” coriolanus confessed after a beat of silence. he bit his lip, cheeks growing warm at his own words. “is that so hard to ask for?”

he leaned in a little closer. his face was so close to yours. still, you made no effort to push him away.

coriolanus blinked slowly before glancing down at your lips; they looked so…perfect, parted just slightly and just inches from his own—so close to just kiss.

he swallowed thickly and bit the inside of his cheek. the longer he stared down at you, the more he restrained himself from pressing his lips onto yours. the thought was too tempting.

it was strange to see coriolanus like this; he never really paid you any mind and hardly ever acknowledged you as his spouse privately, but…it felt weirdly endearing to hear it from his own mouth, and the way he audibly confessed that he was pining for your attention. since when?

“just…” coriolanus cleared his throat and took a step away from you, to physically restrain himself from his own desires. he looked away, taking a moment to breath as color faded into his cheeks. the air in the room suddenly felt so heavy and oddly tense. “please stay by my side from now on, okay?” he requested sheepishly, all of his thoughts dissipating into the air as he took your hand, leading you back to the crowd.

misc. character masterlist

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[robfinancialtip]

Born and raised in Staten Island, Jeremy found himself drawn to the allure of acting. His story takes a pivotal turn when to alleviate tension, he enrolls in an acting class that sets the stage for his future in the limelight. Juggling an array of odd jobs, from working with autistic children to slinging drinks as a bartender, he embraced the challenges of Los Angeles. This city demanded resilience and tenacity.

Fate intervened, and Jeremy found himself in LA, where he crossed paths with Jerry Ferrara. The struggle of a burgeoning actor navigating showcases for representation is a tale Jeremy shares with candor. He also takes you behind the scenes of an alternative showcase he orchestrated, a chapter in his life that showcased his determination to carve a niche in the competitive acting world.

The spotlight intensifies as Jeremy delves into his collaboration with Joey Russo, culminating in the creation of the show "Small Shots." His joy is palpable as he recounts the hosts' admiration for his performance and the surreal moment when a reenactment from "Casino" caught the attention of Martin Scorsese. This fortuitous encounter led to roles in "The Irishman," alongside legends Al Pacino and Robert De Niro.

Reflecting on the unexpected success of "Small Shots," Jeremy highlights the importance of savoring creative pursuits and staying true to one's passion. The entertainment industry's challenges, his personal journey toward sobriety, and the vital role of teamwork in the industry are discussed with an openness that resonates with aspiring artists.

He teases upcoming projects like "Inside Man" (formerly "The Gemini Lounge") with Emile Hirsch and Lucy Hale, as well as films such as "The Vortex" with Billy Gardell and "Replica" featuring Mickey Rourke under the direction of Paul Tully; Jeremy Luke leaves us eager for what the future holds. In closing, he imparts wisdom gleaned from his path, emphasizing the necessity of maintaining an open heart in the unpredictable realm of creation.

A motivational lesson that stands out is the importance of perseverance, passion, and seizing opportunities. Jeremy Luke's journey from Staten Island to Hollywood is a testament to the power of determination. Despite facing challenges and setbacks, he pursued his passion for acting, even working in nightclubs to support himself.

The podcast highlights how important it is to find and embrace inspiration in unexpected places. Jeremy's encounter with autistic kids during a showcase became a turning point, motivating him to create "Small Shots" to raise awareness.

Moreover, the experience of reenacting a scene from "Casino" with Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro emphasizes the significance of being prepared and ready for unexpected opportunities. Being in the right place at the right time and having the skills to showcase when the opportunity arises can lead to incredible experiences.

The motivational lesson is to stay committed to your dreams, be open to inspiration from diverse sources, and always be prepared to seize opportunities when they come your way. Meet Jeremy Luke, an actor whose journey from the streets of Staten Island, New York, to the glitz and glamour of Hollywood reads like a captivating script. Having graced the screen alongside luminaries like Martin Scorsese and Clint Eastwood, Jeremy's narrative unfolds with tales of resilience, adaptation, and embracing setbacks.