#The target age plays a hard role in that for me

[set-wingedwarrior]

People really be talking about peace and love and understanding of others and social justice, then the moment a villain in a children cartoon sees the errors of their way and gets redeemed through love and understanding they yell outraged that they didn't use a guillotine

[bubbleddisasters]

I know considering what we just learned in Caters dream this may be unlikely but:

I feel like Treys dream is just going to be everyone got fucking therapy. And something to do with dentistry and/or a bakery. Like thats it.

Just everyone actually works together in a safe, effective and healthy manner, Che’nyas an NRC student and is able watch over Riddle and keep watch/the dorm in line when Trey can’t and Cater opens up to him.

Like thats it. Everything else is status quo.

Ace and Deuce are still fucking around as usual, Yuu is the mediator, Leona finally got meds for his depression and some therapy so he’s not sleeping around as much, the majority of students are less manipulative and self absorbed, all is fine and dandy.

Ah yes, and You’ve predicted correctly, another Blue Che’nya Rant incoming under the cut lol:

———-

I need Che’nya to pull out his fourth wall breaking shenanigans again. He referenced Yuu’s mirror in Book 1 before Yuu even knew about it? AND The Cheshire Cat has Shapeshifting abilities and is literally the strongest creature in Wonderland only second to TIME ITSELF.

And what do Cats hate? Mice and Birds.

And who, pray tell, gets Alice out of Wonderland?

THE 👏CHESHIRE 👏CAT

You cannot tell me Che’nya was NOT the one who Mickey saw. Che’nya is already mildly hinted at being ridiculously OP.

Think also about Grim. Who has the same color palette and Blue fire as Ignihyde, and the only other character besides Che’nya to have a Cheshire esc grinning sprite. Also, a directly CAT based appearance, not a Lion like Leona, but your average joe cat.

Judging from Grims Design, role in the story and Bow, he’s likely based on Alices Cat in Alice in Wonderland that is unintentionally left behind by Alice when she falls through the Rabbit Hole.

Oh, and the Cheshire cat in the live action? DARKISH GREY AND FUCKING BLUE.

And Che’nya? Who conveniently appeared in both books with Tyrant in the name, conveniently has the ability to slip past NRCs barrier that took S.T.Y.X THEMSELVES SEVERAL HIGH POWERED ANTI MAGIC SHOTS to get through? Without Crowley noticing aswell? And likely teleporting the length of probably a SMALL COUNTRY just to go and fuck with Heartstabyl every other Tuesday or something? WITH NO VISIBLE MAGESTONE ON HIM.

Who randomly knew about our Mirror before we did, and DIRECTLY REFERENCED MICKEY/SOMEONE/ANOTHER WORLD BEING IN OUR MIRROR FROM THE START?? Who has had the ability to FLY, GO INVISIBLE, CONTROL HIS OWN GRAVITY AND LIKELY TELEPORT SO MUCH THAT TREYS SIBLINGS ASSUMED IT WAS CHE’NYA OPENING THEIR FRIDGE AND NOT THEIR OWN DAMM BROTHER, AND POSSIBLY DETACHING HIS OWN LIMBS, SINCE AGE FUCKING NINE (all seen/referenced in manga) , WHICH WE LEARNED SHOULD HAVE PRACTICALLY EXPLODED THE AVERAGE CHILD FROM ROLLO.

BRO HAS BEEN DOING FEATS WE’VE ONLY SEEN LILIA, CROWLEY AND MALLEUS DO.

Lastly, who could’ve followed us throughout our entire journey without notice?

In the Manga, a clone cater got LITERALLY impaled. Theres no way in hell every single person survived an overblot fight with, according to Ace, “A Couple Bruises” without some guardian angel bs happening.

WHOS ALSO THERE FOR ALICES ENTIRE JOURNEY AND PLAYS THE GUARDIAN ANGEL WHEN ALICE NEEDED AN EMERGENCY ROUTE OUT OF WONDERLAND WHEN SHE WAS BEING CHASED??????

THE 👏CHESHIRE 👏CAT

And theres only one person that can pull that role off without detection even if they slipped up, as if Crowley did so and suddenly accidentally became visible or smth, it’d draw more questions. Like wtf he’s doing his job????

For Scarabia, We basically had a magic shield (Floyd) and a Direct Target (Kalim), so Yuus less likely to catch Strays. Plus I wouldn’t put it above Floyd to work with Che’nya and just not fucking mention it. They seem like they’d get along well actually ngl.

Ignihyde is both the most suspicious and kinda hard to piece together, but why did Riddle end up the ONLY one to get oldified when they were likely similar distances to Tartarus. Something that conveniently forced him to pull out of the fight?

Also, you CANNOT tell me, no anti-magic necklaces or not, the magepens would be magic summonable. Thats way too risky and an obvious thing they’d have a backup for. Someone had to unlock it and I have my doubts it was Idia/Ortho, because that raised their fail rate probably quite higher.

Same goes for the Lightning Bolts. I heavily doubt Idia or Ortho would give them access to that at its full ability, especially pretty right off the bat, if the off chance of all three being used against them at once was on the table, since it would practically be the equivalent to a 3-1 hit K.O cheat code or 3-1 Instant D-20s in a row. 3 possible instant K.O shots per team, and 3 teams, totaling up to 9 POSSIBLE INSTANT K.O SHOTS. Thats way too risky. One? Maybe. Two? Eh. BUT NINE? BEFORE THE FINAL BOSS FIGHT? WITH THE MAGEPENS TOO?

Also, if someone had the batshit Idea (cough Epel or Rook cough) to jump down the tower, since it’s literally just the worlds deadliest spiral staircase, and summon some cushioning for their fall and jump to the last floor platform, they could speedrun directly to them with the fully charged bolt, and if they got the rest of the groups to do that, things would go to shit for Idia pretty fast.

They also had the equivalent of a trained sniper with them. If Rook finds major vulnerabilities and tells everyone where to hit them all at the same time, its probably over.

I can mildly see the possibility of OB! Idia getting too cocky and doing so, but I find it doubtful, as I feel he would label it an “endgame” reward considering how OP it is.

It’s been proved before that NRC has it basically on sight with RSA, which works in Che’nyas favor, since they focus on the fact an RSA students on campus rather then HOW he got there.

That, and the Overblotee or more logical guys will probably be like “Riddle/Trey sent Supervision? Yea all things considering that tracks honestly.”

We see this in the game and manga, but in the manga, we can see in the Heartstabyl Finale image that Che’nya never actually left after we see him get “chased out”, and has literally been chilling in a bush watching the group the whole time, meaning he’s likely pretty experienced with faking his departures.

So we can’t hear him, can’t see him, no footprints or footsteps, he can literally clip out of existence to miles away up a mountain on command??? And can unexplainably slip past 500 year old arcane barriers without breaking a sweat???

Bros got The Guardian Angel/ Spy package Deluxe.

Anyway thats just a bad theory but yea

Thats the end of my rant for now I need to eat lunch lol.

[cypressvs]

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, MR. YANG

pairing: welt/f!reader

cw: stellaron hunter!reader, enemies to lovers?, mean dom!welt, semi-public sex, degradation, praise, brat taming but not really, nipple play, choking, dry humping, finger sucking, deepthroating, cum eating, m!masturbation

wc: 2.7k | join the taglist

minors do not interact

There was a song famous in the Luofu recently and it twists around your brain effortlessly as you hum it for the nth time, enjoying your share of snacks as your partner silently pumps her fist with a arrogant laugh at her newest victory. Silver Wolf falls into an excited monologue of how those “noobs can suck her—“ which was promptly silenced courtesy of a Xianzhou native who sent her a stink eye. The young girl rolls her eyes before turning her whole attention to you, still happily humming the stupid song that’s been stuck in your head for ages.

“Hey… It’s almost time,” she drawls out with her usual disinterested tone but one look at the gleam in her eyes reveals that she’s all too excited to be on the field for once. “Not getting cold feet, are you?”

“How could I? Kafka and Blade are doing all the hard parts. It’ll be pretty rude of me to complain about my tiny role,” you reply with a sly smirk.

“Psh… Tell me about it. Why does Kafka always get all of the excitement?”

“Now, now, Silver Wolf. I’m sure our time to shine will come soon. Besides, your target’s pretty interesting this time, isn’t she?”

Silver Wolf slumps to the table before stealing a fry straight from your hands. “Still boring. You’re only appeased this time because you like your target.”

“Like is a bit much.” You lean to your palm. “He’s just interesting is all.”

“Hah! Keep telling yourself that. In any case, we have to meet up here again in an hour. Be even a second late and I’m out. Our mission this time isn’t difficult. There’s no reason for you to be late. Again.”

“You wound me, Wolfie~! I bought you those… oneiric jades as an apology y’know. That cost me a hefty sum.”

Silver Wolf clicks her tongue before mumbling a ‘whatever,’ allowing you to fall back to your humming. It continues on for another few seconds before you stop, grinning madly as you nod to your east.

“Right on time as always. It’s showtime, Silver Wolf. I’ll see you after I play!”

You stand up from your seat in the food stall before disappearing into the crowd, seamlessly crossing bodies until you reach him. It wasn’t easy to match his pace with his dastardly long legs and swift nature but you manage, and you even had the room to teasingly brush your fingers against his knuckles before you’re ducking to avoid his cane.

“Is that how you treat your new acquaintances, Mr. Yang?” You ask as you withdraw a few steps back.

His frown turns deeper. “You and I are hardly acquaintances.” 

“Shame. But now that we both have time, how about we get to know each other?”

“My apologies but I have no interest in your idle games. Why have you come?”

You peer at him through your lashes, lips curling into an innocent smile. “Well, it’s no secret so I suppose I can say. I’ve come for you.” You pause before leaning closer salaciously. “In more ways than one.”

You watch as he sputters in reply, cheeks bleeding into a faint pink but before long, he’s clearing his throat and glaring at you with a newfound ferocity. He doesn’t say anything, only gripping his cane tighter. For a minute, you imagine how it’d feel if he instead wrapped his hands around your neck, pressing until you’re gasping for air, weakly tracing over his soft skin and bulging veins and—your smile widens and you ignore the tiny voice in your head that warned you not to prematurely move against the man when he looks almost too ready to pounce on you. Instead, you take a few steps forward, the soles of your shoes clicking against the bricks being the only decipherable sound between the two of you and the empty alley he lead you to.

“Very noble of you to take me away from where the people are, Mr. Yang. In fact, I’d be impressed if this situation doesn’t feel very… hah, erotic? Is that a good word?”

He clenches his jaw and you swear—you almost moaned at the sight of it. It was exciting how he tensed, hyperaware of each of your minute movements as he watched. Deep brown eyes dilated clearly despite being hidden behind the shadows of his lenses. When you close your eyes, you could almost feel his hatred bloom under your touch, almost taste the blood he’s drawing from how hard he’s biting his tongue. They say it’s always the calmest men who are the scariest and you agree. You—of all people—couldn’t help but shiver as you feel his cold gaze trace over your skin. Is he trying to find your weak spots? Is he trying to undress you in his dark, dark mind? You’ll never know and the increasingly debauched questions in your head was enough for you to willingly liken fear and excitement.

“If you have nothing better to say, then I suggest you cooperate and turn yourself in.” 

You tilt your head. “Oh, I can cooperate alright. It’s just that, you see, Elio said I mustn’t let you take a single step out of this place so I’m afraid that’ll have to wait until the next time.

“Then I suppose our discussion ends here.” With a tap of his cane, a black hole appears in front of you and you barely manage to tumble back to dodge it.

“How primitive. Ah, but I can’t say I don’t like it.” You smirk as you raise your hands in an unconvincing show of defeat. 

Welt ignores your comment pointedly, opting to adjust his glasses with a swift flick of his hand before assuming a defensive position. From where you stood, you could see how his muscles strained under his suit, how his grip tightens around his cane until the whites of his knuckles showed. Anticipation bubbles from somewhere beneath your skin, a sinister idea making you drop your hands nonchalantly.

“There’s no need to be so distraught, Mr. Yang. Unfortunately, I’m one of those unlucky ones whose actions are bound by the dos and do not dos of destiny. Besides, I’m not conceited enough to think I can win against you.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Then what is your objective? If you truly mean nothing nefarious, why are you and your group in the Xianzhou?”

“You’ll soon come to know that the Stellaron here is not of our doing. Ah, but that’s way ahead of the story. For now, all you have to worry about is how you’ll sit still comfortably while looking real pretty.”

“Do you expect me to lay down my arms and trust you just because of what you’ve said?”

“Absolutely not,” you reply as you take a few innocent steps forward. “However, there’s a lot of things I’m wrong about not expecting.”

You take his non-reply as a signal to continue. “For example, Mr. Yang, do you always look at your enemies like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to fuck them,” you snarl, canines flashing dangerously as your eyes narrow into slits in your excitement. Welt freezes before he grits his teeth, a more noticeable rouge engulfing his pale cheeks and even the tips of his ears as he tries and fails to appear composed. 

“How disgraceful—!”

“It’s okay. I can keep a secret.” You lick your lips as you press your thighs together, rubbing them slightly in pursuit of that sweet, delectable friction that shoots tiny shivers of pleasure up your spine. “I imagine it’d be hard to face the Crew if they found out that their ever righteous Mr. Yang is a pervert who gets a hard on from the smallest peek of his enemy’s panties.”

“You! Did you plan this?!”

You lean closer so that you’re chest-to-chest, feeling from beneath thin layers of clothing the way he chased his breath. You lift a dainty hand to play with his coat’s buttons before you’re grinning sweetly at him and peering at him through your lashes, eyes dripping with faux innocence. “No but as Kafka always says, if it’s not part of Elio’s script, why would it matter? I can imagine a hundred different ways we can—“

You gasp as you suddenly feel your chest colliding against the wall, cheek smushed against rough stone as his large, calloused hands pinned your wrists above your head. A shaky breath leaves your lips as you stared wide-eyed at the sudden show of strength and the paradoxical way he rests his chin against your shoulder.

“You should learn how to respect your elders instead of running your mouth off like a slut.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” You manage to muster up a cocky smirk. “You gonna teach me a lesson or something?”

“I ought to but dumb whores like you wouldn’t understand it anyway. I should just treat you like the way you want to be treated.”

A moan tumbles out of your glossed lips as he ruts his clothed cock against your ass. You feel one hand slide down your arm, groping at your chest teasingly before undoing the buttons that hid you away from his sight. 

“Hah, now who’s the pervert, moaning and arching your back instead of doing your mission like a common whore?” He growls into your ear, trapping one of your nipples in between his fingers and tweaking without a care for your muted squeal. 

“You have me because I’m, fuck, letting you have me. Don’t get your head twisted, Mr. Yang.” 

Welt chuckles darkly, thumbing at the pain on your chest tenderly before gliding his hand to your throat and squeezing, using your surprise to turn you over so you were face-to-face. “Cheeky little bitch. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“S-shit! Wait—!” You pant as he presses a bruising kiss on your lips, muffling whatever noise you were planning to relay. You feel him tug at your bottom lip before continuing his pursuit, sucking into your tongue lightly. Your chest tightens as he remains relentless in his kiss but it was okay. It was more than okay. You pour your weight into him, aching to be impossibly closer but just as you were finally getting into it, he pulls away. A thin streak of drool connects you to him and you eye it hazily, watching it snap as he pursed his lips.

“Such a mannerless little girl.” He clicks his tongue and you whimper in reply, gripping at his clothes as you chase after his lips. He laughs at your neediness before carefully running his thumb over your swollen lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you a lesson on manners.”

He removes his glasses with one motion, tossing it carelessly to the side before he takes a step back. A hand runs through his hair before he’s wagging his finger at you. “Sit.”

You furrow your brows but obey nonetheless. The ground was cold but it was nothing to the heat that seeped under your skin as he unbuckles his belt, eyes not once leaving your submissive form. He palms himself over his briefs, no doubt to tease you as he grinned at the way drool began slipping from the side of your lips the more you stared at his large cock in anticipation. Finally, finally, he releases himself from his constraints, revealing a long and girthy flesh that blooms into a dark pink at the head. Thick veins decorate his cock, accentuated by his pre that dripped and traced over it.

“What are you waiting for, sweetheart?” He mutters tauntingly as he used one hand to lightly slap at your cheek. “Open.”

You part your puffy lips, going the extra mile and sticking your tongue out for his leaking meat. In your lustful haze, you can somehow make out the dark chuckles he let out in response as his eyes skimmed over your awaiting form. You’re so pliant, and needy, making a mess over your thighs as your slick dripped in your excitement. When you’re on your knees like this, he towers over your—takes control over everything you are and he finds a sick, perverse delight he never knew he can hold growing in the shadowed crevices of his heart. He places his thumb over your tongue, rubbing at it affectionately before sliding it deeper into your mouth. You suck at it mindlessly, looking up at him as best as you could with tears disturbing your waterline until he’s pulling out and using your drool to thumb at his slit.

“So pretty for me, aren’t you? Prettiest when you shut up.” He accentuates his words with a heavy grunt and a rough thrust that sends the head of his cock to the back of your throat. He’s so big and thick that you could only choke, tears finally dropping to your cheeks as you tried to breathe and relax through his assault. From above, he hisses a fragile curse as he feels the warm walls of your mouth enclose upon him. It’s so, so tight and he knows when you moan that you feel how his cock throbbed from the pleasant stimulation. One of his hands settle to the back of your head as he pumps into you. Slowly at first before he hastens the pace, rocking his hips to the time of your moans. “F-fuck… You feel so good. ‘s made for me. All for me.”

You whimper as you try to keep up with him, flattening your tongue at the back of his cock but he’s just so fast and so fucked out to think of accommodating you that you just give up, moaning deliriously as your weakened legs give in and you slump fully on the floor. Welt huffs before caressing your cheek tenderly, a sharp contrast to how his rut never eased. “So close. Swallow for me, okay, pretty girl? Be good for me now.”

He gives a few more thrusts before he’s groaning, pressing as deep as he possibly can be on your throat and drawling out sweet nonsense about how good you’re being for him and fuck, fuck, fuck he’s never come this hard ever in his life. Peering up at him, you have a clear view of how he tilted his head back, eyes fluttered close as he pumps a few more times for good measure before pulling out his limp cock. He looks years younger like this in the afterglow of pleasure and if his lashes weren’t fanning against his age lines, you would’ve thought that he’s just as young and deranged and stupid and horny as you were—savoring the salty aftertaste of his cum like you would have in your younger years. For a moment, neither of you says a word, only watching each other as your chests pump up and down, sweat making your skin sticky and damp. Finally, he chuckles and you plaster a halfhearted smile in response.

“I suppose you got what you’re after in the end.”

“Two birds with one stone. That’s how I roll.” You plant your palms on the ground as you push yourself up with your shaky legs. “Well, time’s a-wastin’. Time to say bye-bye.”

Welt clears his throat before giving a dismissive nod, something that you pout at as he ignored you in favor of dressing up once more. “C’mon, old man, won’t you say you’d miss me even if it’s just a little?”

“I’m sure we’re to meet again soon or else you’d be crying, destiny’s slave. But—“ he pauses, picking up his glasses and placing it once more on the bridge of his nose—“by then, you would find yourself cooperating with me and surrendering yourself to the authorities.”

“Heh, then I hope you’ll give it your all when that time comes.” You fiddle with the end of your coat before smirking, and using your other hand to throw the tiny little thing Kafka was so kind to lend you. As soon as it hits the ground, smoke fills the empty alley, hiding you from his sight. “Catch me if you can, Mr. Yang. I’ll be waiting~!”

It was only after the smoke completely dissipated that the Cloud Knights found him, citing hacked GPS as the reason for the delayed reinforcements. By then, as he would come to know, the newest member of the Astral Crew had made contact and unearthed the secret behind the phenomenon of the Mara Struck. Hindsight was 20/20 and as he sat under the pale light of the inn’s bathroom, pumping his cock at the memory of your warm lips, he knew that it all went according to your script.

Mission Accomplished. 

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — YUTA x FEM READER

Yuta’s just like a puppy. 

wc — 1k

tags —  mdni, aged up, dog boy Yuta, unfortunately have been reading too much borderline furry (boys with cat ears) manga and was converted, if I was braver I’d make this more intense, gentle fem dom, hand job on a desk, this is going to appeal to exactly one (1) person

You expected this. Yuta has never tried to hide the man that he is. 

Still, you think this is a bit too much. 

You’ve been standing in front of the mirror for at least ten minutes, trying to figure out how you’ll hide this mark in the summer heat. Yuta loves all of you, but he has a special fondness for the nape of your neck. More specifically - biting it. 

You know he can’t help it. It’s the nature of a guard dog. You had thought as much when you had first met him, all those months ago. 

Yuta naturally assumes the role of the protector. It’s instinctual to him, in everything from the way he shoves you behind him during fights or the way he pushes your favorite foods onto your plate from his. He’s always been like this. 

When you’re in danger, his hackles rise. He’s total in his brutality, an effortlessly efficient killing machine. Although he’s never thought of himself as such, in truth, Yuta is as much a prodigy as Gojo is. Having Rika makes it too easy to play at heroics. He’s never had to fear much when he’s the object of her devotion. 

Perhaps it’s because her love is all he’s ever known that he’s turned out the way he has. 

Yuta loves in the same way the Queen of Curses does. They’re both beasts tamed only by the leash their partners hold, weapons of mass destruction cradled in soft hands. Like Rika, Yuta is single minded in his devotion towards you. 

Dogged, one might say. 

He’s always touching you, like a puppy begging for attention from his master. A hand on your waist or curled around the back of your neck, Yuta needs to feel your skin on his. 

He dotes on you endlessly, constantly at your beck and call. He’ll deliver whatever you want to you on a silver platter. The way he waits eagerly for praise afterwards is adorable. 

Because of this, you’ll usually forgive him for anything. 

But you had woken up unnecessarily angry this morning, and the bite mark just sealed the deal. It had been too hot underneath your sheets, leaving you groggy and irritated. You had lashed out at your puppy, who was such an easy target. Yuta never argued or fought back, even if it was undeserved. He just took it. 

You’re feeling particularly guilty because he’s so patient with you. He had gotten back from a mission hours ago, and instead of cleaning up or resting, he was waiting outside your office patiently. He hadn’t even gotten out of the suit he had been wearing for this undercover assignment. 

His legs are drawn up to his chest so he can rest his head on his knees, staring at the closed door that separates him from you. When it finally opens, his ears perk up and his tail starts wagging. 

It’s hard to repress the urge to coo over him, to pet over his soft ears and praise him for being a good boy. 

Instead, you grab his tie, wrap it around your fist like a leash, and tug him inside your office. 

There’s blood on his face from his work. You shouldn’t find it so hot. 

“Are you still mad at me?” He asks. 

“I was never mad at you, pup,” you say gently, pushing him towards your desk. He lands sprawled across your documents on his back, looking bewildered. 

It’s evident he came here looking to make it up to you. You’d rather give him his dues, instead. 

“Pants off, baby,” you tell him, and he scrambles to obey. His hands are shaking a little as he undoes his belt, fumbling the latch over and over until finally you take pity on him and undo it yourself. 

Yuta goes a little cross eyed at your gentle handling of him. Of course, that only spurs you on further. 

“What do we say, Yu?”

“Thank you, thank you,” he chants.

“Good boy,” you croon, watching as his eyes practically turn into hearts and his tail wags furiously between his legs. You give it a light tug and he whimpers. There’s already a tent forming in his boxers. 

Playfully, you snap the waistband of his boxers against his skin. Yuta throws an arm over his eyes. His cheeks are turning red from embarrassment, but you can’t have that. 

“Don’t hide from me,” you say as you pull his arm away from his face. 

Yuta’s been so good. You don’t want to make him wait for it anymore. You tug his boxers off and wrap one hand around his cock. He’s already leaking so much you don’t need lube. Your giggle only makes him turn his face away, shy and even more embarrassed. 

Yuta’s hips thrust up involuntarily at the first slow, sweet stroke the tight circle of your fist makes around his cock. It’s followed by a string of gasped out sobs as Yuta tries to keep himself still, only to jerk like he’s been electrocuted at the next pump of your hand. 

“You don’t need to restrain yourself,” you tell him, and that’s all the encouragement he needs. Yuta’s loud. He whines and cries and begs even as you’re willingly giving him all he wants and more. 

He chases his high like a man starved, humping into your hand with a sweetly depraved desperation. When you twist your wrist just the way he likes, he sobs, a wretched, pathetic noise that makes something awful inside of you preen in delight. You want to hear him make that noise again.

When you look up again to gauge his reaction, Yuta’s biting his lip. “I’m close,” he whimpers when he catches you watching. “I’m gonna-I’m- fuck-“ 

“Go on, sweetheart,” you tell him. “Be a good boy and cum for me.” 

Praise always works well on Yuta. 

He cums into your hand with a sob, shaking through his orgasm. His knees knock together before you force them apart, pushing him just shy of overstimulation before you finally pull away. Yuta practically melts into your desk, boneless. 

“Was that a good enough apology?” You tease him. 

Yuta blinks at you. His brain is practically melting out of his ears. Then he shakes his head as if he’s shaking water off, his dark hair flying around his face. With the dumbest, cutest smile in the world, he says, “Repeat that?” 

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Hey! I really like your stories. How would a Yandere! Alfred react to his S/O already having a kid from a previous relationship? (Maybe kid doesn't like him and compares him to their father?)

Ooooh one about complicated relationships :) Here you go anon! Enjoy <3

Alfred F. Jones is the type of man who can take things in stride. This type of situation would be one of them. He’s smart enough to know that you’d be a package deal when you became his target. He would gladly take on the role of stepfather & would even do his best to be way better than your former lover. After all, that's why you’re not with your previous (husband/wife). 

Toys, outings, paying for afterschool activities, etc., will all be tools for him to get close to your kid and build a bond of sorts. Alfred will ask subtle but prying questions about why your previous relationship didn’t work for your kid. What are your greatest fears? What's your extended family like? Things of that nature. All of this information will be used for the nefarious purpose of never being able to leave him. After all, children do take some of their parents' psychology. Alfred will observe the child's behavior to gauge how difficult it will be to manage them. 

This is also highly dependent on the kid's age, which is a huge part of how Alfred will manage them. 

(0-5 years old) Oh yeah, he has time to make your kid love him like a real dad. Manipulation will be easier since the kid isn’t working with much mental capabilities yet. 

(6-12 years old) Now that your kid knows how to say “no” & be independent to a degree this is where things will begin to get tricky for Alfred. However, he still has the upper hand. He’s already braced himself to hear the tried and true hallmarks of being a pre-teen just beginning to discover themselves. 

“You’re not my real dad!” 

“I hate you!” 

Alfred of course, won’t behave violently like he’d typically want to. He’s worked far too hard for you to be within his trap. So he can last, however, many years until your kid reaches that magical age of 18 before he will try to alienate you from them. But trust me when I say he has already begun to plant seeds of discontent meant to get you detached from your child when that day comes. 

He does end up having a lot of joy derived from punishing your kid. Things like not receiving allowances, watching television, playing video games, or having cell phone access—you name it—your child probably had it taken away. Alfred did have a conversation with you, and the both of you did agree that he should have the ability to punish your child since all three of you did live together. It is his home originally, so Alfred has a great deal of leverage. 

However, 12-13 in most U.S. states, children can vocalize who they’d like to live with. So, if you’re child hates Alfred at some point during an argument, he will shout out:

“You hate it here? Fine, you little brat, you can live with your real dad (or mom) since you’re so ungrateful!!!” 

(13-18 years old) Holy hell, will the tension be high if you’re all living together? It’s a new life change for them. This will be especially bad if the kid doesn’t like Alfred. It’s not a situation that can last for long. This works in Alfred's favor. He will push the kid to want to live with the other parent. You’ll have visitation that will start off at being every weekend; then it will slowly diminish to every other weekend, then once a month, and so on. 

This space away from your former child will give Alfred the time to tie you down with his own children. During this time, he’ll get busy subtly telling you how your kid from your previous relationship hates you. Alfred will sew the doubt about your child's love for you. Alfred will have more to stand on if your EX also has a new S/O; he’ll compare you subtly to substantiate why your kid doesn’t love you anymore.

[hcfiles]

A few days ago, some anons asked me what I liked about Henry. I'll put this here again, now as a post, but will add a few observations throughout the text. To start with, he's being terribly advised by an unethical and unscrupulous team. And his support to that and acceptance as he plays any role they tell him to stage, makes him a misogynist and a hypocrite and it's degrading and disappointing. What I like about Henry?

Many things. He's gorgeous as a God, hot as hell, sweet as honey, sexy, polite, kind of intelligent, except for his emotional decisions, based on his stubbornness and immature and unexperienced personality. He is disciplined and takes his job very seriously, despite screwing with his image on PR stunts with promiscuous and accepting to be a muppet in others' hands. He's a joy, funny, entertaining, sensitive, but fragile, qualities that can be a trap when that person has low emotional intelligence. And, he's not a person of attitude, preferring to run and hide like a nine-year old from facing the consequences of his actions. Psychologically disabled? If so, he's being explored because of it, and that may be considered abuse. So, is he being abused and explored by the Industry for being disabled or that's just his Character aligned with his team's strategies?

His voice is music to my ears, his looks are eye drops. As a specimen, he's my weakness, especially, because of those amazing blue eyes. But, he relies on his looks too much and that's a huge mistake. Looks don't last and he has been aging fast, because of this shenanigan. He is sort of a boy trapped in the body of a man and that is extremely attractive, but tricky. As a boy, he's inconsequential, especially, because he leaves others to deal with the bs. But, he's also very naive, which contradicts the idea of self confidence he sells and actually, doesn't have. Self confidence I think every man should have. So, I don't think he's the kind capable of taking care of a woman, but the kind who needs to be taken care of by a woman, who can naturally be a mother to him.

He has a relatively good relationship with people he works with, indicating he's an easy temper to deal with. And, being naive, he also ends up being an easy target. But, he counts on aunt Leah and the team to protect him and hide his weakness. He was always very patient, polite and generous to his fans, which made me fall in love with him once, and always seemed very respectful and grateful to fans, until this shenanigan, which exposed the unethical strategies he and his team have used for years to manipulate and gaslight. He's apparently a dream come true. But, man! What a dude! He can't stand facing hard times if not behind a team or a woman's skirt.

Henry Cavill is a duality and needs more life experience, more self confidence, more courage, needs to stop pretending, to change his priorities. He needs a new ethical and honest team! Less Ego and more consciousness. Less bs and more integrity. He has it all and doesn't need to sell himself cheap for publicity, despite putting greed and vanity as priorities.

[raichuu-agere]

31 days of agere stimboards!!

I don’t make stimboards but I love them sm!! I wanna see all yours!

Day 1: favorite animal

Day 2: favorite book

Day 3: favorite stuffie

Day 4: based on your childhood

Day 5: a perfect day

Day 6: favorite tv show

Day 7: favorite Disney character

Day 8: favorite snack

Day 9: fictional character who you’d want to be your caregiver

Day 10: favorite movie

Day 11: favorite musical artist

Day 12: ideal bedroom/playroom

Day 13: favorite activity

Day 14: favorite mythical creature

Day 15: favorite holiday

Day 16: ideal vacation

Day 17: what role you would play in medieval times

Day 18: favorite sweet/candy

Day 19: favorite game

Day 20: your fashion style/aesthetic

Day 21: favorite season

Day 22: favorite toy

Day 23: favorite place to go

Day 24: favorite restaurant

Day 25: your special interest/hyperfixation/something you really like

Day 26: animal you’d want to be

Day 27: toy you want

Day 28: skill you want to learn

Day 29: favorite place in nature

Day 30: least favorite character from your favorite show

Day 31: something that makes you happy

Please please use #raichuus31agerestimboards !! Can’t wait to see them!

My answers in case anyone needs an example:

1 - capybaras!!

2 - the very hungry caterpillar

3 - his name is mr. waggles, he’s a blue puppy rattle!

4 - mine would probably have lots of sidewalk chalk, forests and biking

5 - a perfect day for me would be sitting at home with my cg or best friend eating and watching tv

6 - phineas and ferb

7 - lady from lady and the tramp

8 - probably cucumbers, celery or grapes

9 - jeremy from phineas and ferb <3

10 - lady and the tramp!

11 - twenty øne piløts

12 - mine would be spooky with bats and vampires, and have a big toy box and a city play rug

13 - probably coloring or laying on my cg and relaxing while he plays video games

14 - vampires

15 - halloween

16 - I would love to go to mongolia and travel on horseback like I’m an ancient mongolian riding alongside genghis kahn

17 - I would definitely be a knight, but I’d be really bad at my job in a silly way

18 - this is a hard one, either donuts or frozen yogurt

19 - legend of zelda - age of calamity

20 - dark 2000s emo kid

21 - fall

22 - fidget toys or plastic animals

23 - on a large scale, kenya, on a smaller scale, target hehe!!

24 - taco bell

25 - african wildlife or astronomy

26 - a dog or lion

27 - that one pea pod fidget toy

28 - skateboarding!!

29 - forest, pretty much all of PNW

30 - definitely suzie johnson from phineas and ferb

31 - stickers!!!

[depressopax]

Sit down - Mike Ehrmantraut x gn!reader smut

Pairing: Mike Ehrmantraut x gender neutral reader Genre: Smut Warning(s): Sexual content. Age gap, semi-public sex (car sex). Anal sex (reader receiving) Teasing, handjob (Mike receiving), curse words, slight degradation, Mike & reader first time, unprotected, gender neutral reader. Mike being grumpy lmao I tried making the smut as gender neutral as possible. Lmk how I can improve my writing in gn-smuts! &lt;3 Words: 1.5K Summary: Kinda continuation of “Dating Apps” - You work for Gus, and are in a secret relationship with Mike. Once out on a mission with Mike, you decide to tease him a bit… English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 AO3 link

You hum to the music playing in the car, Mike’s hard resting on your thigh as he drives through the quiet dark night in Albuquerque. 

It’s 12am and the mission has just begun. To keep you awake, Mike insisted on stopping at McDonalds to buy a coffee. He knows you too well, and that you tend to get bored during these types of missions. You look at him, hoping to meet his blue eyes. And he does, even gives you a small smile too, before he focuses on the road again, his warm hand leaving your thigh and grabbing the steering wheel.

What type of relationship you and Mike have is a mystery. Apart from kisses and make-out sessions, you’ve been on two dates so far. But the work you both have makes it hard to be open about the relationship, especially since you two are colleagues and working for the drug kingpin Gustavo Fring. 

You enjoy Mike’s company and he likes being with you, but he’s still pretty distant. You know he has a hard time shifting between his role at work and his role in private life. 

When doing missions with him, he’s usually very stern and cold, just like he was before you got to know him. When you’re alone with him though, he’s very affectionate and caring. 

You wonder what he’ll be like tonight. 

“What are we doing again?”

You ask, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. 

“We’re supposed to guard this one house, keeping track of movements in case our target makes any sudden move. And if we get the right opportunity, break into the house to gather some evidence.”

“I see. Sounds boring!”

“...Work is not supposed to be fun, y’know that.”

You chuckle, but realize it’s no point in telling him you’re joking around, instead you add:

“Maybe we can make it more fun.”

He stares at you, stunned by your bold move. But he quickly looks away again. It’s hard to see, but he has a hint of blush on his face. 

“Keep it in your pants”

You let out a frustrated groan at his comment and Mike rolls his eyes. The car ride continues for about 10 minutes until he stops at an empty street, with the perfect view of a big house with the lights on. Mike already seems focused and you know it’s gonna be a long night…

At 2, there still hasn’t been a single movement from the house, and you are starting to get frustrated from boredom. Mike seems bored too, but unlike you, he’s a professional and doesn’t let his emotions get in the way. Too bad he’s partnered up with you for the mission…

Your hand sneaks from his knee, and up to his thigh. He jumps, a bit caught off guard with your sudden move. 

“Y/n. Focus.” 

He warns you but you only give him an innocent smile, squeezing his upper thigh. He grabs your hand and glares at you. He doesn’t seem impressed with your attempts to seduce him. 

Sure you’ve only been “dating” for a month, but still, you want his attention. He tends to make you feel touch starved. Mike squeezing your thigh or pushing his tongue into your mouth is usually enough to rile you up and feel greedy for more. You guys haven’t had sex yet. You’ve done other stuff using hands and tongue, but never gotten to the “main event”. 

After 15 minutes, the lights in the kitchen shuts off, and Mike reacts quickly, and observes the house. But nothing else seems to happen. The rest of the house is still lit up. You lean forward a bit, kissing Mike’s neck. You get a low growl in response.

“Fuck, y/n. Can you just…”

He stops mid sentence, when you unbuckle the belt to his jeans.

“Stop being such a slut. We’re in the middle of a damn mission!”

He hisses, but directly seems to regret his choice of words.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“Just, give me attention, please! I promise I’ll stop when the coast is clear for the mission…”

He looks at you, as if trying to decide if he should let in or not. His eyes roll back slightly in pleasure as your cold hand finds its way into his boxers. 

“Go ahead then,” 

He murmurs. His eyes are still locked on the house, whilst you move your hand over his length, feeling his member grow from the touch of your soft palm. Once his cock hardens, you can pump him faster, using some of his pre-cum as lubrication as your hand moves up and down in smooth movements. He cusses and buckles his hips up, desperate for your touch. You feel like being a tease, so when you feel him tense up, and when he has a hard time covering those moans, you remove your hand. 

At first he doesn’t react, at all. There’s a thick silence between you.

“Are you fuck kidding me?” 

Mike hisses, grabbing your hand and forcing it back to his awaiting erection.

“Finish what you started.”

“I don’t know…” 

If looks could kill, you’d be dead right now. 

“Take off your pants.”

You don’t question him, instead, you almost tremble from excitement as you pull the blue jeans off, only left in shirt and underwear. You watch Mike stroke himself with one hand, as he looks at you, his eyes raw from passion and frustration. 

His other hand goes to your underwear, rubbing your sex through the fabric. You let out a soft moan as Mike tosses the clothing aside.

“Sit.” 

“But I…” 

“Sit.” 

You’ve never gotten this far before, and you didn’t think your first time with Mike would be in his car, whilst on a mission.

“That was not a question.”

You move closer to him and guide yourself to his lap. He starts by warming you up slowly, his fingers working in and out of you, getting you nice and ready. He lifts your hips, slowly guiding you down until his erection, lubricated from pre-cum and saliva, sinks into you from behind. He grunts deeply as your tightness wraps around him. You let out a whimper from the pain, as Mike stretches you with his length. The sensation is painful at first, and Mike makes sure to guide you through the sensations.

“You wanna stop?”

He asks, planting soft kisses on your neck. He holds still inside of you, giving you time to adjust to his size and get used to the feeling.

“No”

You whisper, looking back at him, your eyes slightly teary from how intense everything feels. He gives you a comforting kiss and suddenly he shows you that soft side of himself that you love so much. You’ve been waiting for so long to be intimate with him, and now you’re finally doing it. He is patient with you, guiding you through the pain and keeps reminding you to take deep breaths for him. He whispers praise to you, whilst his free hand works with teasing your sex, making sure you’re enjoying the moment. After a while, the pain finally fades and you can enjoy the moment. You can feel Mike’s member throb in excitement from being inside of you, and you let out a moan in approval. He once again starts moving, his hands holding you close to his body.

“Fuck! Taking me so well, love.”

You move together, reaching a new height of pleasure together. 

You reach an orgasm first, Mike only seconds away, as he pulls out of you, shooting thick ropes of cum onto your ass and back. He cusses as he empties himself and paints your bare skin white. 

Afterwards, Mike is quick to get dressed. He wipes your back off gently using some paper towels, and then helps you put the clothes back on. You rest your head on his shoulder and Mike responds by wrapping one arm around you, soothingly holding you.

“Are you satisfied now, brat?”

“Yea. Are you, old man?”

He rolls his eyes, as if he’s annoyed. But you can see the hint of a smile as he nods. You feel very tired, despite the coffee. Mike notices this and sighs

“The coffee didn’t help?”“Blame yourself, you just fucked me up.”

“Yea… But you asked for it, love… Try resting for a bit, I’ll wake you up if anything happens, ok?”

“You don’t want me awake?”

“Not when you're being such a damn tease.”

You laugh at his comment but can’t find a comeback. Instead, you just cuddle up to his warm chest.

“Wake me up in an hour or two.” 

You mumble and fall asleep with a smile.

Someone save me from my Mike addiction 😭 (actually don't) I LOVE HIM <3

[findroleplay]

**18+ ⭑ 21+ PREFERRED ⭑ DISCORD ⭑ OC x OC**

Any obsessive freaks in chat? I'm craving twisted romance, unconditional devotion, (mutual) unhealthy obsession, violent possessiveness, and love-drunk stalkers/killers. ⭑ I've got a few concepts I'm really excited about though I'm super open to other ideas as well, or creating something fresh together, as long as it contains characters who want to crawl inside their lover's skin and lick the blood off each other's hands. ⭑ Themes that I'm currently craving and you can expect from me are horror, crime, mystery, violence, stalking, obsession, the occult, supernatural creatures, forbidden relationships, age gaps, etc.

Some of my plot pitches can be found here (https://callingallcreatures.carrd.co/#secret). The ones I'm most excited for at the moment have a ⛥ in their name.

A "quick" rundown of my current preferences and what I offer: I average 2-6 paragraphs though I don't expect my partner to match. Fun and quality over quantity! ⭑ You can expect a few replies a week, more if we're doing rapid fire. ⭑ Third person, past or present tense with a slight preference for the latter. ⭑ OOC chatter, excitement, and feedback are very important to me! Dry texters do not interact (/hj). I love people who can't shut up! ⭑ I'd prefer it if you were comfortable with darker and/or dead dove themes and smut, though this doesn't mean that it's my main focus.

F/NB x M/Masc/NB. For this specific craving, I'm looking to write against masculine tops, be it men, butches, or masc non-binary folk. ⭑ Top does not per se equal dom though! I'm down for no power dynamics, as well as service, pleasure, and/or masochistic tops. ⭑ I myself write and enjoy all kinds of roles, however, I do not usually play subservient characters and I do NOT write masochists. ⭑ I adore playing headstrong outcasts and often lean into more alternative aesthetics and appearances. ⭑ You can expect both "aggressors" and "targets" from me, and most of my characters are at least a little messed up.

Interested? Feel free to DM me and tell me what caught your eye! Maybe share your own preferences, your hard limits, etc. Excited to hear from you soon!

[pawberri]

tysm for your posts regarding child safety it's very upsetting how much victims are blamed and how often dangerous behaviour isn't seen as genuine concern just because a bunch of adults decide they don't want to care and that children being on the internet is Bad and Annoying because theyre put in danger rather than focusing on the issues of the internet as it currently exists/how communities form around it and creating real support spaces for victims that arent Just fetishizing of the very trauma theyre struggling with

it gets hard to talk about and feel understood because the "stop caring im not responsible for kids" type of people are so often vocal and praised for that lack of real care your commitment to talking about such and showing Proving genuine focus on how to help those who have been abused is uplifting and very helpful people like you give me hope i will be listened to and cared for, that those who do care are plentiful and just not as loud

ty a hundred, and apologies if this is a lot - feel no pressure to 'answer' such an ask, just intending to express the appreciation

I've been seeing it repeated so much and it's so stressful and frustrating. People generally have given up giving general advice on how not to be raped or abused as an adult because most leftists understand that these problems are so complex there isn't an easy guide to avoiding it. We talk about victim blaming and how much of it is random chance, but somehow people can't apply that same logic to children. They give advice that is basically as useful as "don't wear revealing clothes" and act like it's at all useful. It amazes me how people in the replies of the one post I reblogged are acting like NOT BEING GROOMED somehow makes them experts on grooming. They have no understanding that luck and circumstance play a huge fucking role. If you have never experienced this, never researched it, never cared about it beyond generally disliking pedophiles as a concept, I beg you to fuck off and shut up about how to avoid grooming.

Like look at these comments and imagine someone with the same politics as these people saying it about rape or abusive relationships.

Saying "don't be a target" as if children are the masters of their own fate. Same with saying "my generation knew better!" or "lol just block people" or any other callous, self-assured bullshit. It's like telling someone who got lured into abuse by someone they trusted that they should have just carried pepper spray. It's worthless.

Let me say

1. If you were groomed it was not your fault, even if you put your age in your bio

2. If you were not groomed and did not have your age in your bio, you have not discovered the secret to not getting groomed

3. Many adults can tell when a 32 year old clearly knows absolutely nothing about the adult world, and children are just at an obvious intellectual and expirential disadvantage in keeping up this rouse

4. Pedophilia is not as clear-cut as people think, and many people who would willingly abuse trusting, vulnerable adults would happily move to abusing teenagers. People seeking power will manipulate you if they can, and children are easier to manipulate. Someone might start dating an extremely childlike adult and shrug off the realization they are underage because they don't give a fuck who they're getting their power fix from even if they didn't figure out they were speaking to a child.

5. Adults dating teenagers was and is extremely normalized in many parts of the world (and many subcultures) and no amount of internet privacy was ever going to save us from a broad societal message that pedophilia is just a may december romance or whatever

[sometimescharlolette]

AGENT WHISKEY X F!READER (FINGERING)

Synopsis: When you and your partner Agent Whiskey go on a mission together, things go wrong and you're forced to hide in a closet. What you didn't expect was what you'd get out of it.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, good girl calling, kinda submissive, fingering, age gap

A/N: Hello beautiful people, happy Valentine's Day to you all, we've finished the smuts I had planned. I couldn't finish without Agent Whiskey, his edit was my addiction on Tiktok. I hope you like it, your comments and opinions help me improve, kisses💜💜

You had been working at the secret American spy agency Statesman for almost two years, yet your superiors insisted on pairing you with Agent Whiskey for every mission. They claimed it was for strategic reasons, but you knew better—it was to keep you in line, to make sure you didn’t disrupt their plans.

Being the rookie sucked, but being partnered with Jack Daniels? That was worse. He was cocky, overconfident, and thought his experience made him untouchable. Never mind the fact that you had saved his ass more times than you could count. Not that he’d ever admit it. Still, you could tell he enjoyed your company, if only to see how far he could push you before you finally snapped.

On this mission, disguises were mandatory. Jack looked infuriatingly good in a perfectly tailored suit and tie, posing as a wealthy shareholder with access to your targets. You, on the other hand, were stuck in a tight, barely-there black dress, reduced to playing the role of his much-too-young trophy wife.

"Smile, Margarita, or they'll think you’re only with me for the money," Whiskey murmured, his warm breath brushing against your ear.

You shot him a glare, voice saccharine with mock sweetness. "Keep talking like that, and I’ll be a widow before the night is over."

He chuckled, shaking his head as his hand pressed firmly against the small of your back, guiding you through the lavish event. You discreetly slipped a listening device under a nearby chair while Jack charmed the crowd with his easy drawl and smooth confidence. The guests were already eating up his every word, falling for his honeyed lies.

You stayed sharp, scanning the room for any signs of danger while mentally cataloging crucial details. Everything was going smoothly—until it wasn’t. Somehow, your cover had been compromised.

Before you could react, Jack’s grip tightened around your hand. "Time to go, sugar," he muttered, pulling you along as he broke into a run. You stumbled in your heels, barely managing to keep up as footsteps thundered behind you.

The chase led you down a corridor, the sound of pursuit growing dangerously close. With a swift motion, Jack yanked open a supply closet door and pushed you inside, following right behind before slamming it shut.

Now you were trapped together in the cramped, dark space, bodies pressed tightly against one another. Somehow, you had ended up in his lap, his strong arms wrapped around you, one large hand clamped gently over your mouth as muffled voices passed just outside.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your breath warm against his palm. His scent—whiskey and leather—was intoxicatingly close. He met your gaze, the flicker of a smirk playing at his lips, eyes dark with amusement and something else. Something that sent heat rushing to your cheeks.

"You always this squirmy, sugar?" he whispered, barely audible over the sound of footsteps fading down the hall.

You bit his palm in response, just hard enough to make him stifle a chuckle.

Whiskey's smile widened into a grin as you bit his palm, not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to show him that you had some fire in you. He liked that. He liked it a lot. His grip on you tightened, pulling you more firmly against his chest as he leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Careful now, I might start to think you want to devour me, sugar” He purred, his southern drawl dripping with sinful promise. His other hand trailed slowly up your side, fingertips grazing the side of your breast before coming to rest just below your collarbone, his thumb stroking the delicate skin there.

He could feel your racing heartbeat, could feel the way your chest heaved with each breath. Fear? Perhaps. But there was something else too. Something that made his blood start to heat in his veins. He knew that feeling all too well.

Whiskey's eyes glittered with slyness in the darkness, his gauze locked with yours. He could play at being the gentleman, but they both knew better. The air between them was electric, thick with unspoken desire and a simmering tension that was always there, lying just beneath the surface.

His hand slid higher, brushing the side of your neck, tilting your chin up. His calloused thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing the curve of it. “You know, I've been thinking... you're not so bad to have around. For a rookie.” His voice was a low rumble, barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

"You on the other hand, are pretty bad for a senior" You retorted dryly, trying to ignore the way your body felt on his lap, the curve of your ass pressed against his groin.

Whiskey let out a low, rumbling chuckle at your quip, the sound vibrating through your chest and into yours. His grip on your chin tightened fractionally, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your jaw as he turned your head to face him fully.

His gaze was intense, piercing, boring into you with an almost hypnotic force. In the dim light filtering through the cracks of the closet door, his eyes seemed to gleam with a predatory hunger. “Careful, sugar,” He murmured, his voice a low rasp. “Keep talking like that and I might think you're trying to charm your way into my good graces.” His thumb pressed down on your lip, tugging it down slightly as if to silence you. “And trust me, darlin', you don't want to get on my bad side.”

Despite his words, there was no real threat in his tone, only a dark promise. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against your cheek, inhaling deeply. The scent of your perfume mixed with the lingering aroma of his own cologne, creating a heady, intoxicating blend.

His other hand slid lower, splaying across the small of your back, holding you flush against him. You could feel the lean muscle pressed against your softer curves. He was so close, too close, his breath hot on your skin.

“But maybe…” His voice dropped to a whisper, his lips barely moving against your ear. “You want to be bad. Maybe that's why you're so eager to get under my skin.” 

His hand slid lower, cupping the swell of your rear, squeezing gently. His touch was a delicious brand, sending sparks of electricity arcing through your body. Your eyes widened at his boldness, you knew you were always cheeky, but he was taking advantage of the fact that you had nowhere to escape to tease you.

"Get your fingers out of my ass," you murmured, the tight space and his presence made you feel all hot inside, and the fact that the closet was stuffy wasn't helping at all.

Whiskey's lips curled into a wicked smirk at your breathless command, clearly amused by your feeble attempt to regain some semblance of control. His hand remained exactly where it was, kneading the firm globe of your ass through the fabric of your dress.

He nuzzled into your neck, his stubble scraping against your sensitive skin as he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with your scent. His voice was a low, sinful purr when he spoke again. “Mmm, now why would I do a silly thing like that, sugar?” His fingers flexed, digging in slightly, pulling you harder against him. “I'm quite... comfortable right here”

His other hand slid around to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair. He gripped it lightly, not enough to truly hurt, but enough to hold you in place as he tilted your head to the side, exposing the length of your throat to him.

Whiskey's mouth moved lower, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck. He could feel your pulse jumping beneath his lips, could taste the salt of your skin. He licked at it, savoring the flavor, before suckling gently on the sensitive flesh.

His hand on your ass slid around to your hip, gripping it hard enough to leave bruises. He rocked you against him, grinding your core against the growing bulge in his pants. He was getting hard, his desire for you evident and insistent.

He nipped at your earlobe before whispering, “I could take you right here, darlin’. Bend you over and fuck you until you scream.”

His words were filthy, obscene, dripping with lust and dark promise. His grip tightened, holding you in place, trapping you against him. He waited for your reaction, wanting to gauge your response to his crude words.

Your breath caught in your throat, the sensations Whiskey was pulling out, making your body and training betray you with the way he touched you, kissed you.

"I have a knife," you reminded him weakly, you had no intention of using it against him, but damn it, you also didn't want to let him think he could turn you into a hot, messy mess with just a few touches and dirty words.

Whiskey chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against his back. He was enjoying your feisty resistance, finding it utterly charming. It would make breaking you all the more satisfying.

Ignoring your weak protest about the knife, he slid his hand slowly up your thigh, his fingers dancing along your skin. He found the hem of your dress and slipped beneath it, his calloused hand contrasting with the softness of your thigh.

He leaned in close, his stubble scraping against your ear as he whispered. "I want to take my time with you, sugar. I want to explore every inch of this gorgeous body of yours." His hand slid higher, brushing against the lace of your panties. He could feel the damp heat radiating through the thin fabric.

Whiskey's lips curved into a wicked smirk against your neck. He nipped at your earlobe before murmuring. "But that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun while we wait, now does it?"

He punctuated his words by pressing his thumb directly against your clothed cunt, rubbing slow, firm circles. He could feel the damp patch growing, its arousal impossible to hide.

His other hand slid around to your stomach, showing across your flat belly. He tugged you harder against him, grinding his clothed erection against your ass. He was fully hard now, straining against the confines of his jeans.

He rocked into you, the delicious friction even through the layers of clothing between you. His breath grew heavier, his chest rising and falling against his back with each ragged inhale.

He licked a stripe up your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste you. He could feel your body trembling, could feel your resistance weakening. He smirked against your skin, his voice a sinful rasp.

"Just relax, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good. I promise, I'll give you pleasure like you've never known before." He rolled his hips, pressing his thumb harder against your clothed pussy. He could feel your body betraying your desire, your need for him growing with each passing second.

Whiskey's voice was a low, seductive rumble in your ear, the tone leaving no doubt about his intentions. His thumb pressed harder against your panties, rubbing firm circles against your sensitive flesh. The damp patch had grown, the lace clinging to your folds, the dampness a testament to your growing arousal.

His other hand slid under your dress, his fingers dancing along your thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He grasped the flimsy fabric of your panties and slowly began to peel them down your legs, his knuckles grazing your skin, igniting sparks of pleasure.

He leaned in closer, his stubble scraping against your ear as he whispered hotly. "Good girls follow orders, sugar. And I want you to be a very good girl for me, don't I?" His voice was a dark, wicked purr, dripping with sinful promise.

He tugged your panties down to your knees, leaving your cunt bare and exposed. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, could practically smell your desire. It made him find himself to bury himself inside you, to claim you, to make you his.

Whiskey's hand slid around to grip your hip, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh. He pulled you back against him, grinding your naked ass against his straining erection. He groaned at the contact, his hips rocking reflexively, seeking more friction.

He licked a hot path up your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point. He could feel it jumping beneath his lips, could taste your racing heart. He smiled against your skin, his voice an eloquent rumble.

"Go on, darlin'. Be a good girl and spread your legs for me. Let me see what I have to work with here." 

His grip tightened on your hip, a silent command in his tone. He was giving you a choice, but you both knew you would obey. The heat between your legs was impossible to ignore, the ache in your core demanding to be filled.

Whiskey's deep southern drawl washed over you, the words dripping with sinful intent. His grip on your hip tightened, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with a possessive hold. It was a silent command, a demand wrapped in velvet, leaving you in the room to refuse.

Your body moved as if it had a mind of its own, your legs trembling as you slowly spread them apart. The cool air hits your newly exposed pussy, a stark contrast to the burning heat emanating from your core. You felt vulnerable, laid bare before him, but also unbearably aroused.

Whiskey's hand slid around to the front of your thigh, his fingers skimming along your inner thigh teasingly slow. He could feel your muscles quivering beneath his touch, could sense your anticipation growing with each passing second.

He leaned back slightly to admire the view, his heated gauze raking over his exposed legs, lingering on his glistening cunt. He licked his lips, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face.

His thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive nub with a feather-light touch. He could feel you twitching, could sense your body's desperate need for more. He chuckled maliciously, his breath hot against your ear.

"Sweet merciful heavens, you're absolutely dripping, sugar. Such a pretty little pussy, all swollen and ready for me." He punctuated his words with a firm press of his thumb, applying delicious pressure to your clit.

His other hand slid up your belly, palming your breast, squeezing the soft mound. He could feel your nipple pebbling beneath his touch, could feel your body responding to his every command.

Whiskey's voice dropped to a low, conspiratorial whisper, his breath hot against your ear. His fingers continued their tortuous circling of your clit, applying a steady pressure that made your hips squirm with need. He could feel your body tensing, your muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap.

His other hand slid further up your body, his fingers finding your nipple through the thin fabric of your dress. He pinched the hardened peak, rolling it between his fingertips, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core.

He leaned in closer, his stubble scraping against your cheek as he murmured. "I know it'll be hard, sugar. Knowing you can't make a sound, can't let a single peep escape these sweet lips." He brushed his thumb over his bottom lip, a silent reminder of what he expected.

His fingers dipped lower, teasing along the edge of your entrance. He could feel your slick heat, could sense how badly you needed him inside you. But he held back, drawing out the anticipation, the heavenly torture.

He circled your entrance with a soft touch, his fingers gliding through your slick folds. He could feel your walls fluttering, could sense your body's desperate need for him to fill you.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing firm circles that made your vision blur. His fingers dipped inside, just the tips, teasing your entrance with a promise of what was to come.

He nipped at your earlobe, his voice a wicked murmur. "Shhh, not a sound now. Let's not let anyone find us in here, hmm? I want to hear nothing but your breathing, feel nothing but your heartbeat racing for me." His fingers pushed deeper, your slick walls clenching around the intrusion, silently begging for more.

Whiskey felt your hips bucking against his hand, seeking more of his touch, more of his delicious torment. He could feel your breath hitting in your throat, your body trembling with the effort to stay silent.

He rewarded your restraint by slipping his finger deeper inside you, curling it to hit that perfect spot that made your eyes roll back in your head. He could feel your walls clenching around him, gripping him.

The hand on your breast slid down your body, over your belly, coming to rest at the junction of your thighs. He could feel the heat radiating off your core, could feel your arousal coating his fingers.

He pumped his finger in and out of you, his thumb never stopping its relentless circling of your clit. He could feel your body tensing, your hips rocking in time with his movements, silently begging for more.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, his tongue darting out to taste you. He could feel your pulse jumping beneath his touch, could feel your body responding to his every command.

He added a second finger, stretching you, filling you. He could feel your slick walls struggling to accommodate him, your body instinctively trying to draw him deeper.

He grunted softly against your neck."That's it, sugar. Take it silently, like the good girl you are. You're being so brave for me, so obedient." He punctuated his words with a hard thrust of his fingers, driving them deep inside you.

His thumb circled your clit faster, applying more pressure. He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around his fingers. He knew you were close, could feel the heat building in your core.

He pulled back slightly to watch your face, his eyes covered with a haze of lust and a hint of something more primal. He could see the pleasure etched on your features, could see the way you were fighting to stay silent.

His fingers pumped faster, his thumb circled harder. He could feel your body starting to shake, could feel your impending release. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Come for me, sugar. Let me feel you squeeze my fingers, let me feel your body shake with pleasure. Do it now like a good girl"

Whiskey felt your head fall back against your shoulder, your breath coming in shorts, sharp pants against your neck. He could feel the heat of your breath, the way your body trembled against him. He knew you were close, could feel the tension coiling in your core like a snake ready to strike.

He thrust his fingers deeper, harder, his thumb pressing down on your clit with just the right amount of pressure. He could feel your walls starting to flutter, could sense your body's impending surrender.

And then it happened. Your walls clamped down around his fingers, your body shaking as the orgasm ripped through you. He could feel your slick gushing around his digits, your hips bucking wildly as you came undone.

He muffled your cry of pleasure with his shoulder, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises. He held you close, his fingers still pumping, drawing out your orgasm, making it last as long as possible.

He could feel your body going limp in his arms, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He gentled his touch, his fingers slowing their movements, helping you ride out the aftershocks.

He pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips. He licked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. He moaned at your taste, his eyes fluttering closed briefly at the exquisite flavor.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He could feel his own arousal pressing against your belly, hard and insistent. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours.

"That's my good girl" He murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. "You did so well, sugar. You took your pleasure so quietly, just like I asked." His hand slid down to grip your ass, kneading the soft flesh.

He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep, claiming you, possessing you. He could taste your moan against his lips, feel your body melting into his embrace.

Before either of you could react, the door swung open, revealing Ginger Ale standing in the doorway. She gave you both a once-over, her expression unreadable, though the slight arch of her brow suggested she wasn’t entirely surprised.

"I was supposed to tell you that you were safe, but it looks like you're doing just fine," she remarked dryly.

Flushing slightly, you quickly tugged down your dress, straightening yourself as you pushed away from Whiskey’s firm grip and stood up. "Finally, I don't have to put up with your presence anymore," you muttered, determined to pretend that nothing had happened in the cramped closet.

Whiskey, still seated, simply smirked, the corners of his lips curling in smug amusement. "Sugar, you keep tellin’ yourself that," he drawled, adjusting his suit as he rose to his feet, his gaze lingering on you with a knowing glint.

Ginger Ale looked between the two of you, her expression still unreadable, but her eyes narrowing slightly as she noticed your disheveled state and Whiskey's smug grin.

"The boss wants to see you both in the command center. Now," she said crisply, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We've got a situation developing with the arms shipment. Apparently, your little... interruption here has delayed us long enough."

She turned on her heel, expectantly waiting for you to follow. You flushed even deeper at the implication in her voice, realizing that Ginger Ale likely knew exactly what had been happening in the closet.

Whiskey, on the other hand, seemed completely unperturbed. He took his time, letting his gauze rake over your body lecherously before he met your eyes with a wink.

"I'll be along in just a moment, sugar" He said, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "There's still a few things I need to take care of here first."

With that, he reached out, trailing a finger along your collarbone, drawing a shiver from you at his cool touch. He smiled wider at your reaction, clearly enjoying the power he held over you.

He walked past you, brushing against you deliberately as he strode towards the door, leaving you feeling flustered. You had to remind yourself that he was just a means to an end - you couldn't let yourself get too caught up in his charms.

[tzov]

I saved this as a draft for a long time but I want to share it now:

Boys and men in sports humiliate and injure to prevent girls and women from "encroaching" on what they consider their domain.

I've tried to talk about this many times in my life, and I always get the, "you just can't handle competition, you just expect me to go 'easy,' on you, you're just whiny/weak/holding up the game, this is unavoidable" when it was extremely obvious to me that I was being maliciously targeted by boys in an attempt to humiliate me, not in an attempt to simply win the game.

I recognize common threads between complex individual experiences:

-That the excess violence was CLEARLY not necessary to win;

-That it was done to me/other girls and not boys of a comparable size/skill (or, often, lesser size/skill);

-That it would occur when I was not that great of a threat i.e., they would spend the whole CASUAL game focused on shutting me down even though a lot else was going on; and then, when it was serious and we were actually trying, we would be having fun, getting rough, and then when I was up, the clear moment of a DECISION (with a petulant gleam in the eye) to make it unfun by SUDDENLY kicking/slapping/shoving me EXCESSIVELY hard (in a way I could not prepare for as it had no precedent in the game), PURPOSELY (this is not hard to tell) hurling the ball as hard as they can at my head while I'm not looking, etc. (and this was often on top of disproportionate, unsportsmanlike ridicule/taunting, i.e., condescending/disgusted/impatient that I never saw boys do to each other, instead of the fun shit-talking that I DO understand is part of sport);

-In situations where they would not allow me to play (i.e., ignore me completely as a teammate, refuse to assign me a role, etc.), because they ASSUMED I couldn't before I could prove otherwise, and then when I insist, instantly hurting me on purpose so I still never get a chance to show that I am skilled/competitive;

-And finally, it was ALWAYS in conjunction with specific comments about my femaleness, or comments about how I'm overconfident/need to be taught a lesson (and I would not include this point if I were bragging about my skills or messing up the game, I can tell if I'm holding up a competition).

In the end, all of this DOES result in my being less practiced and skilled, which serves as an ad hoc justification for it

In my memories, it seems like they are angry that a girl has the audacity to try, because nothing is more hammered into our heads than, "girls are weak and it's unthinkable to lose to them or take them seriously." Just because women can't compete with men at certain high level sports obviously does not mean that every individual girl will lose to every individual boy--- and it's so important for me to tell the difference that I am very thoughtful about whether it's "rowdy crazy high level man stuff--" I've never been interested in participating in that because it's scary and feels pointless.

As a lifelong athlete, I also have a lot of experience with accidentally getting hurt, with "intimidation" as a legitimate strategy, with making a beginner player quit because they obviously don't belong in your game; but these are all ways boys will try to pass off their cruelty.

It's also worth noting that boys my age were UNABLE to physically overpower me until about age 14, and all of this still happened (though it happened a lot more after that). I know that sometimes girls can hold up games and be overconfident and I can imagine that would be annoying. But sport is so important to me, and this pain is so deep, and I've been told these things all my life, so there's no way I would not be looking out for such nuance.

For most girls, it really only takes the one experience for them to never try again. For me, I BELIEVED people for a long time that I just needed to accept that things get competitive and rough-- and that's why I put myself through it over and over, only to find that something else, something far more sinister, was clearly at play.

In summary, men and boys are actively unsportsmanlike and unnecessarily cruel to girls and women who want to try to build skill and compete in various sports, and this is nothing to do with biological differences-- just misogyny.

[shannendoherty-fans]

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/17/opinion/shannen-doherty-gen-x.html

The New York Times — Opinion

We Owe Shannen Doherty an Apology

July 17, 2024. By Jennifer Weiner

Shannen Doherty was difficult.

If you were alive and sentient in the 1990s — whether you, like me, were a devoted fan of “Beverly Hills, 90210” and E! or you were just the most casual reader of People magazine — you knew this to be true. The sky is blue. The earth is round. Shannen Doherty, the star of multiple hit movies and television shows, is difficult. She was, per the tabloids, a volatile, unmanageable diva, and that reputation was only reinforced by the pouty, prima donna roles in which she was so often and so brilliantly cast.

Ms. Doherty died on Saturday, at the age of 53, of the cancer that was diagnosed in 2015. Since the news broke, the tenor of the conversation around her has changed. Instead of being an eye-roll-inducing wild child, Ms. Doherty is now being praised for the sensitivity and candor with which she discussed her cancer diagnosis and her time in the spotlight. And those ’90s tabloid stories? They’re hitting differently. The glee with which they were once consumed no longer feels appropriate. Ms. Doherty made her fair share of mistakes, but Gen X’s quintessential bad girl no longer looks all that bad.

If this reassessment feels familiar, it’s because in death, Ms. Doherty has joined the growing ranks of female celebrities whose scandals and legacies are being reconsidered by a newly sensitive culture.

In 2002, when Britney Spears’s high-profile relationship with Justin Timberlake ended, she was a train wreck, a bad joke, a problem. Eventually, her career and her money were placed under her father’s control. In 2008, Katherine Heigl went from queen of the rom-com to Hollywood purgatory for the sins of taking herself out of Emmy contention and having the temerity to say that “Knocked Up” was “a little sexist.” In 2009, Megan Fox got slammed — and fired — for calling out Michael Bay, her director on “Transformers,” for a desire “to create this insane, infamous madman reputation.” (OK, maybe she did also compare him to Hitler, which never ends well.)

Today, so many of the former tabloid mainstays do not look like punchlines or cautionary tales, but like regular young women enjoying the pleasures of fame. Some even look like role models. Ms. Spears emerged as a hero, not a villain, and it’s her ex who’s the target of comedians’ jabs. Post #MeToo, Ms. Heigl and Ms. Fox look like truth-tellers, not ingrates. Ms. Doherty, sadly, did not live long enough to enjoy her restored reputation.

A former child actress, Ms. Doherty was only 19 when she landed a starring role in “Beverly Hills, 90210.” She played Brenda Walsh, half of a set of fish-out-of-water Midwestern twins navigating the halls of West Beverly High. She left the show after four seasons, reportedly after feuding with co-stars, including Jennie Garth and the boss’s daughter, Tori Spelling. When Aaron Spelling hired her again, giving her a three-season run on “Charmed,” tensions with a co-star reportedly led to her being fired a second time. She was separated from the other actors as though she were an irrational toddler rather than a skilled, valued employee.

Those high-profile roles, along with her talent and her beauty, made her a star. But the conversation about her often made it seem as if her real job was to be fodder for the tabloids and a target for late-night comedians.

To be sure, Ms. Doherty gave them plenty to work with. There were the feuds and bar fights, a pair of quickie marriages and a D.U.I. arrest. Producers complained that she showed up late to the set, hogged the spotlight, bailed on the Emmys. A former fiancé filed an order of protection.

Ms. Doherty was eviscerated for this behavior in a way that indecorous male actors were not, at least at that time. A People magazine cover labeled her a “hard-partying, check-bouncing bad girl.” A zine called Ben Is Dead published an “I Hate Brenda” newsletter, complete with the “Shannen Snitch Line,” where informants could call in reports of unaired bad behavior.

In a 1992 cover story, People asked “TV’s brashest 21-year-old” why she, “alone among ‘90210’ co-stars and teen idols,” got stuck with the “difficult” label. Is she “one of those women who rhyme with rich? Is she, as the tabloids have gleefully reported, impossible on the set? Is she a prima donna? Also: After hours, does she party too much?”

Years later, Ms. Doherty copped to some of her misdeeds. “I have a rep,” she told Parade in 2010. “Did I earn it? Yeah, I did. But, after awhile you sort of try to shed that rep because you’re kind of a different person.”

So what drove the scandal? Blame it on youth. “90210” begat a whole generation of shows with ensemble casts of teenagers. Ms. Doherty was not the only one who needed time to grow into her outsize prominence. “We were locked in this sound stage for 14 to 16 hours every day,” Ms. Garth, who was also just a teenager, said years later. “There were times when we loved each other and there were times when we wanted to claw each other’s eyes out.”

Blame it on a desire to typecast female celebrities as heroes and villains, sweethearts and shrews, and the time-honored tradition of setting women against each other.

Or blame it, if you like, on plain old sexism. Ms. Doherty said the first time she was called a bitch was when she called out a male cast member on the set of “Heathers” for taking advantage of an extra. “I’m a strong woman,” Ms. Doherty told People. “There are still some people out there who can’t deal with that.”

Today, maybe more people are equipped to deal, more likely to look askance at misbehaving men instead of the women who call them out. Instead of the coy, “is she a rhymes-with-rich?” of early ’90s People, a Rolling Stone tribute is headlined “Nobody Could Break Shannen Doherty, and Everybody Tried.” “Shannen Doherty was irresistible, underrated and permanently shackled to misogynistic speculation,” wrote Adam White in The Independent. The headline on an opinion piece in Vogue read, simply, “Team Brenda Forever.”

The reassessment is more than just a desire (sincere or otherwise) not to speak ill of the dead. It’s a result of a few tough decades that have taught us what real bad behavior in Hollywood looks like: not impolite ingénues but Harvey Weinstein. Or Bill Cosby. Or Danny Masterson.

Maybe Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton and Tara Reid were not hot messes, but just girls being girls, the same way we’ve always allowed boys to be boys. And at least their misdeeds were largely victimless, unlike the missteps of so many male counterparts or superiors.

Maybe showing up late to the set, while not ideal, is not completely unexpected from a teenager adjusting to sudden, unimaginable wealth and fame. Maybe the bitches and the bad girls were giving voice to inconvenient truths about men with power and the sexist scripts they greenlighted, the abusive film sets they ran and the bad behavior they indulged in or ignored. Maybe the difficult women like Ms. Doherty are the ones we should have been listening to all along.

[goobtacular]

Be warned, longish mini essay about the Netflix Daredevil show from someone who hasn't finished season 1.

I think the similarities between Daredevil and Kingpin go hard. Both have very similar motivations and backstories. Ironically, Kingpin has a more traditionally good backstory. His harsh taskmaster was his father, and he rose to defend his mother, killing him in the process. But throughout the whole process, the torment of his father's rule, and dealing with the aftermath, he is in the company of his mother.

There is one thread throughout Wilson Fisk's life: he always has a companion. Not someone who can order him around, not always someone he can order, but always someone he is above in some way, and always someone who plays the role his mother did. Before he meets Vanessa, he has his assistant who chooses his meals, plans his itinerary, and is part of every difficult choice or conversation he must have.

Even Vanessa is, unfortunately, put into that mothering role, playing to the more traditional gender roles and even taking on the burden of the emotional turmoil his troubled past gives him. As long as he has his mother or a replacement, Wilson knows he's not a monster, and he can rationalize any sacrifice, usually on behalf of others. His decision to become a public figure is entirely out of his comfort zone, but also something he wouldn't have done if his assistant and Vanessa hadn't plotted to aid him in his turmoil. Functionally performing emotional labor on his behalf.

Daredevils, Mathew Murdock's, upbringing contrasts this. He had a loving, supportive father who had a violent career. Upon the death of his father to crime, he turns to another, harsher, violent father figure who abandons him when he gets attached. Every time someone fills a paternal role, they leave him. And there seem to have never been any takers for a maternal role. Instead, the influences on his life have always been highly masculine, sometimes soft, but always masculine.

In some respects, it seems as though Matt is a success story for toxic masculinity. He's a superhero and a lawyer, he's exceptionally romantically successful, he never lets anyone in, and he solves every problem as alone as he can with the strength of his body and his moral character. He suffers because of this, but even his downfalls still echo the toxic masculinity that's consumed his life.

But for all that, Matt and Wilson come at it from different angles, paternal and maternal, and they ultimately arrive at the same destination. They're both violent men trying to save Hell's kitchen through violent means. The only difference is the extremes they are willing to go to. And even then, Wilson is quite a bit older than Matt, and I'd be willing to believe a middle-aged Daredevil might kill.

Certainly, Kingpin's methodology is more classically villainous, but it is only Daredevil's superhuman abilities that allow him the moral high ground. They remove his ability to mistakenly target innocents, an advantage Wilson does not have.

It strikes me as interesting that the main difference between the two characters is what flavor of toxicity they were molded by: Wilson by a toxic level of support, by people egging him on when it might be time for introspection and pushing him forward when he turns inward and considers stopping. And Matt, by toxic masculinity, pushing him on even when he really should rest—not providing him the support he needed to heal from the trauma of his father's death or Stick's abandonment or even the emotional toll his vigilante career took. Forcing him to bottle everything up and 'stay strong' not to disappoint others, mostly Stick.

That's why I think, ultimately, neither should be doing what they're doing. Kingpin for, I think obvious reasons, he's doing just real bad stuff with vaguely good intentions, and Daredevil for less apparent reasons. He is doing good, and as Matt, I think his choices are solid, but as Daredevil, he's straight up using beating up people as a way to deal with his trauma. It's incredibly unhealthy and even if the violence doesn't take him out, he's still leaning on it to support him emotionally. I fear he can't stop, even if he wanted to. After all, if he did, he'd have to face his demons like the rest of us.

They're just two men running from their problems, and I guess I can't fault them for that. Wouldn't all of us if we could?

[andreal831]

Love all the meta's, they're the next best things to updates on your fanfictions!

My current question is, what do you think of the relationship between Davina and Elijah? And what direction would you have taken it in, if you were in charge of the originals?

First, I promise I will update soon!

Now, onto the question. I've always thought the relationship between Davina and Elijah was underrated and a little confusing.

Elijah is the first Original that Davina really meets. Even though Marcel is holding Elijah hostage thanks to Klaus, Elijah doesn't attempt to escape. He has multiple opportunities to escape but he never attempts to overpower her. Instead, he wants to talk and let her make her own decisions. Elijah always prefers diplomacy first if it can resolve their issues. This is incredibly important for Davina because no one has given her that power in her life, not even Marcel. Elijah allows her to take control of her own life by making a deal.

What I never understood about their relationship was where it went wrong. Elijah holds up to his end of the bargain and brings Davina pages of Esther's grimoire. Yes, he controls the first spell to save Hayley but then offers to let her pick the next. Elijah teams up with Marcel to protect Davina from Klaus, knowing he would do something reckless. He even feels guilty that he didn't anticipate Klaus targeting Tim. Davina takes out her anger over Tim's death on all three men. I always felt like her anger toward Elijah was a little unwarranted. At this point, he hadn't done anything against her. I think a lot of her anger at Elijah likely came from the writers wanting to create clear divides in the warring factions.

Their relationship after this clearly only gets worse, but again, a lot of it is simply Davina's anger at vampires in general as she and Elijah do not have a lot of contact. She is a teenage girl trying to find her place and being used by a lot of different people, so I don't necessarily blame either of them.

If I was in charge of The Originals, Elijah would have actually had storylines and connections that didn't revolve around Klaus. I would have loved to see Elijah play a more protective role in Davina's life, especially after Rebekah left town. Elijah was protective of Marcel as a child and we see him often wanting to save people he views as innocent (Elena, Marcel, Katerina). Elijah was initially protective of her, refusing to drink her blood when he was first released, trying to protect her from Klaus, being concerned when she disappeared. Davina's character was often used as a prop to further issues and the fact that she was a teenage girl who had lost her entire life was forgotten. I think this is partially because the show wants to age up characters so it's not creepy when they start dating super old vampires. But she was just a teenager and for the most part had no one helping her. Sure, Marcel, Vincent, and Cami would be there occasionally, but they would also abandon her for months and only pop back up when they needed something.

Elijah had a very paternal character. To me, he was the only Mikaelson that truly showed a desire to have children. It would have been nice to see him take Davina in and protect her rather than spending all of his energy on Klaus.

I hated how they often put Elijah in the position to make the hard decisions to save the Mikaelson family and Hope in the later seasons. Everyone loves to say Klaus would do anything to save Hope and will forgive his every action, including trying to kill Davina in Season 1. But as the show attempted to redeem Klaus, they still needed conflict, so they sacrificed Elijah's character. It's ironic because a lot of the things that, to me, seemed out of character for Elijah to do in Season 3 and 4 wouldn't have happened had Klaus not been so controlling of Elijah. All of this to say, if Elijah had been able to develop a better relationship with Marcel or Davina, I think he would have acted differently. Although, Elijah is pretty pragmatic and his family was running out of options.

Davina and Elijah have a lot in common and both deserved better from the writers.

Thanks for asking!

[ellissay-morningstar]

LFRP: Ellissay Morningstar

Basics –––– ✢

▌NICKNAMES: Elly ▌AGE: 25 ▌RACE: Half-Elf (Quel'dorei mother & Gilnean father. Void Elf in game) ▌GENDER: Female ▌SEXUALITY: Bisexual ▌MARITAL STATUS: Single ▌SERVER: Moon Guard

Physical Appearance –––– ♤

▌HAIR: Long Silver White ▌EYES: Blue Hazel ▌HEIGHT: 5'8 ▌BUILD: Athletic, Toned/Athletic ▌DISTINGUISHING MARKS: None ▌COMMON ACCESSORIES: Jeweled Dagger (usually hidden)

Personal –––– ♢

▌PROFESSION:  Huntress/For Hire ▌HOBBIES: Reading, Writing, Singing ▌LANGUAGES: Multilingual  ▌RESIDENCE: Wherever she is renting at the moment ▌BIRTHPLACE: - ▌RELIGION: None ▌FEARS: Losing what is left of her family

Relationships –––– ♡

▌Spouse: None ▌Children: None ▌Parents: Eclesia Morningstar, Grimsark Blakemore ▌Siblings: Her twin brothers, Damon and Eldon Blakemore ▌Other Relatives: Elutia Morningstar ▌Pets:  Two snow leopards, Nieves and Neva

disorganized / organized / in between close-minded / open-minded / in between Calm / anxious / in between disagreeable / agreeable / in between cautious / reckless /in between patient / impatient / in between outspoken / reserved / in between leader / follower / in between empathetic / unemphatic / in between optimistic / pessimistic / in between leaning optimistic traditional/modern / in between Hard-working/lazy / in between cultured / un-cultured / in between loyal / disloyal / in between faithful / unfaithful / in between

Possible Hooks –––– ♦

▌ Huntress for hire. She takes on contracts to hunt and/or kill creatures that are wrecking havocs on villages or upsetting the balance of nature.

▌For hire-other. Following in her mother's footsteps, she takes on contract work in gathering intelligence and taking out possible targets at her discretion.

▌She enjoys a good drink and can be found at a tavern or bar especially during the weekend late nights. She also enjoys dancing and can possibly be found at local clubs and/or parties.

▌-she is a brand new character that is still in the works of me figuring her out. Any suggestions for a starter for role play is always welcomed.

PLEASE NOTE: I currently do most if not all of my RP in discord. That information can be obtained by messaging me on tumblr in ask or messenger.

What I’m looking for –––– ♥

▌RP partners/Friendship ▌I’m willing to do pre-established ships mainly past relationships, family, old friends, enemies, past business partners. As long as it is talked out and agreed on ahead of time.  ▌Open communication about the RP at all times. ▌RP in discord with possible in-game at a later date ▌Looking for somebody who doesn’t mind if I tag them in posts about our characters with gifs, quotes, and such.

Out of Character –––– ♣

▌I am an older writer/roleplayer, 40+, and when doing NSFW (including erotica, violence, etc) topics, I prefer the writer to be 25+. SFW - 18+ ▌I mostly do para writing, but it can and will vary in length. I have no expectation on length, If you write a line or a chapter, I am good either way. ▌IC and OOC separate at all times. I am not my character, and she is not me. This is very important to me. Please do not take OOC into RP and vice versa. ▌I can always be contacted via Tumblr ask/messenger or Discord, if you have my discord.

Contact Information –––– ✰

Tumblr @ellissay-morningstar

Carrd: In the works

Discord -  Please request. 

In game - Ellissay on Moon Guard