#but also an f/t episode too

[portlandwithyou]

The Promise- Time Stamp Roulette

Minutes: 8 16 21 29 40 42 43

[parfaitblogs]

guess ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer really likes changing the way in which he wakes you up. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: soft dom!spencer. oral (f receiving). spencer bought the underwear r is reading (it's described). very brief nipple stuff bc i hate writing that word xoxo. healthy sex discussion midway through!! communication yippee!! desired somnophilia (it doesn't actually happen). fingering. spencer's a little shit (who's surprised). not proofread!  word count: 2.5k a/n: the lacy black pair with the little bows 💃💃 the ones i picked out for you in tokyo 💃💃💃imagining s13 spencer specifically in that episode he has his firearms exam. u know the one mhm mhm! 

You were indescribably pretty, in Spencer Reid's very professional opinion.

In every form. Even your sickest, most disgusting form — according to you — when you had gastroenteritis that one time after being away on holiday. You were pretty when you dressed up for a date with him or drinks with your friends. When you had just gotten out of the shower and had wet hair and were wearing your pyjamas (either being a matching set or one of his stolen t-shirts). And, his most recent obsession; while you were sleeping. 

Which might be sick in some way shape or form. How much he liked watching you while you slept. The rise and fall of your chest, the blankets bunched up and falling just below your hips — showing the skin of your legs, because the weather was warm and Spencer's apartment was always warmer. 

Yes, it probably is sick. But it's not like he did anything about it. In fact, he usually just watched you until the clock ticked to a time he deemed unreasonable to still be in bed, and he got up and went on about his day (thinking about you the entire time, of course). 

But it was a Sunday, and you had made him promise to be there when you woke up that morning; too sick of finding him out in the kitchen already showered and making food. When all you wanted was to lie in bed for — at least — an hour with him before your days began. 

Your rule was probably the only reason Spencer's mind wandered away from their usual thoughts about you in the morning. But he also wanted to blame it on the fact that your hair was freshly washed and his sheets now smelled of your shampoo, and your legs brushed against his own so many times he thought you might be awake already. 

You were just so, so pretty. And his shirt on you had risen just the right amount, your stomach peeking through, and really, Spencer should not be held accountable for any of his actions that morning. He was but a man, at the end of the day. 

Despite everything he wanted to do to you, he was still a gentleman, and this was a boundary of consent you were yet to cross together. Hence; the arm snaking around your waist, pulling you into him, and the kisses he had begun leaving along your cheek, jawline and neck, hoping to coax you awake, gently. 

Hope that had been answered, because he heard you groan quietly beneath him — the sound, embarrassingly so, shooting straight to the pit of his stomach like he was a teenager. But you were awake. 

"Good morning to you too," you had murmured, voice riddled with morning husk and a layer of exhaustion no doubt still there. 

"Morning, honey," he answered, lifting his face from your neck to your own face, lips twitching a little as you blinked your eyes open. He was quick with it, connecting his lips to yours and eliciting a quiet squeak from you, which simply had him smiling. 

"I have morning breath," you said, though both of you knew he could not care less. He never did, which was almost laughable for a man with such a big phobia of germs. 

"I'll need to brush my teeth after this too, anyways," he had replied, and your stomach flipped in the best way possible. 

"What's this?" 

"Hopefully," he began, placing one last peck to the corner of your mouth, before he shifted your bodies enough so he could trail kisses down to your peeking collarbone. "You'll like it."

"Promise?" you asked him as he hooked fingers beneath his t-shirt, eyes searching yours for approval, before he pushed it up and over your chest.

"Promise," he said with a confirming hum, trailing kisses down your sternum, before kissing back up and taking a nipple into his mouth. 

He decided he liked you like this; still waking up, too out of it to properly silence yourself the way he knew you would if you were in any fully conscious state of mind. It was arguably his least favourite trait of yours — how much you hid when all he wanted was to hear every little noise you made (a thought that shocked him too, the first time he thought it). 

But your back arched and barely functioning limbs pressed down against the mattress when you mewled, and it was beautiful and he was repeating the motion of his tongue flicking over your nipple once, then twice, just to hear it again. 

He smiled at your breathless whimper of his name when he detached his mouth, a hand dropping to your hip and rubbing gentle circles into it. 

"So impatient when you're tired," he murmured, almost scoldingly, gaze flickering up to catch your expression. Not that there was much to look at — you were watching him through half-shut eyelids, lips pulled into a content smile. He moved his head to take the other nipple into his mouth. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and so he comforted the other (now neglected) peak with his thumb. 

But, he was a man on a mission. And so despite how much he wanted to tease you, he had other, far more exciting plans for you. 

Lips kissed down your stomach, stubble scratching delicately at your skin, making you squirm and evoking a hum from Spencer, who glanced up at you with an arched brow. 

"Stubble," you explained, almost breathlessly, and his lips pulled into a smile in acknowledgement. Which was sweet. 

What wasn't sweet was the way he grasped your hips between his hands and pushed them into the mattress and said, in his (incredibly arousing) low voice, "Need you to keep still for me."

"You don't want my hips punching you in the face?" you asked. He laughed at that — it had happened one time. 

"If I can help it, no," he punctuated his sentence with his fingers squeezing your left hip, and you only hummed in response. Then, "Aren't these the ones I bought for you?"

You looked down, and his fingers were hooked under the waistband of your underwear, black bows resting on either side and flipped up on his fingers. 

"Uh... yeah. I must've put them on by mistake last night," you told him, and his eyebrows only rose. "What?"

"By mistake?" he mused, one of his hands letting go of the waistband to trace his knuckle across the top and down over the centre of them, eliciting a shudder out of your lips. 

"I haven't done laundry?" you offered your second excuse. His bewilderment only deepened and he pulled his hand away from you.

"You wanna tell me the truth?"

Damn him. "Okay, so, I was planning on trying to do something with you last night. I did an everything shower and everything," very complex sentences you were creating, clearly. "But then I fell asleep."

"I see," he said, and amusement crossed his features. 

"I wear them all the time!" you protested. "They're comfortable. Also they're really pretty. You would know if you tried to have sex with me more often."

He laughed, only because he could see the faux pout on your lips, and he knew you weren't serious. "I already have sex with you a lot."

"Twice a week isn't a lot."

"I'd argue it is," he said, placing a kiss to the inner side of your thigh — the recognition of what position you two were in whilst having this conversation being somewhat jarring, but mostly humorous. "Do you want me to have sex with you more often?"

"If I say yes, will you?"

"I'll do whatever you want me to," he answered, hair tickling your skin as he tilted his head to the side, resting it on your thigh. 

"Then yes," you breathed out. 

"Okay," he nodded his head, picking it back up to refocus on his task at hand. "Can I take this underwear that you apparently wear all the time off now?"

"Yeah."

Even in the warmth of his apartment, you shivered when he tugged the black lace down — with some resistance he no doubt expected, but still reacted to with a barely audible hiss. You smiled at that.

"So pretty," he murmured, like it was the first time he was ever seeing you. 

He met your eyes one last time, and you watched that stupidly gorgeous smile stretch across his lips, before he was leaning forwards and licking a stripe down the centre, eliciting a breathy whine from your lips. 

He was painfully good at this — a fact that popped into your head every single time he had his mouth on you. You wondered if he was simply born with the knowledge of your body already catalogued in his brain, because even the first time he ate you out, you were immobile for thirty minutes (though, he did make you come four times at once, so maybe it was that). 

"Angel," you felt a nip on your thigh, and your head snapped down, eyebrows furrowing when you met Spencer's gaze. "Focus on me."

"I am," you huffed in response.

"Really?"

In theory, yes. You were thinking about him. Just a distant, past him. 

"Am I boring you already?" 

"Maybe. You might wanna speed up," you replied, always taking the opportunity to have some form of attitude towards him. 

"I miss when you were half-asleep," he sighed, but he gave you what you wanted regardless. 

Lips attached to your clit and his tongue flicked over it, and any retort you had died on your tongue. He liked to shut you up this way, it seemed. Hands that were still holding your hips pushed you into the mattress instinctively, having premeditated the bucking of them. A whimper escaped you when he sucked, head pressing down into the pillow beneath it, and you could feel the muscles of his face move as he smiled against you. 

He always ate you out like he was starved, and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was. He was almost pathetically down bad for you when he was horny, though, and even if you were promising him pleasure, his mouth would find its way to you no matter what. Something about being a service dom or whatever. He had told you about it one time while he was knuckle deep in you, and you clearly didn't retain much in that state. 

"Oh," you breathed out when he dropped his head lower, his tongue circling your entrance, nose bumping your clit. 

You could feel his eyes on you when he flattened his tongue, watching every micro expression you made. 

Now, Spencer Reid was never smug about his knowledge. All those memories and his ability to quote just about anything at the drop of a hat and he never bragged about it. But knowing you? That he could brag about for hours and then some. Because truly, he knew you.

He knew he could make you come just like this; obscenely eating you out. In fact, it was quite easy to. But he found no fun in giving you what you were expecting. It was the only reason he was returning his lips to your clit, a hand dropping down from your hip, sliding over the skin of your thigh, before brushing through your folds, teasingly. 

"Spencer."

He repeated your name in the same whiny tone of voice as your own, mockingly so, and if you weren't so hellbent on reaching an orgasm, you probably would've kicked him.

A finger pushed into you embarrassingly easily, and you moaned, louder than you had yet that morning, which he knew. 

Indecent sounds left your lips continuously, and you eventually stopped fighting them. Much to his satisfaction, clearly, because he had curled his finger in just the right way at the same time he sucked on your clit and you were crying out and hands that had otherwise been heavy on the mattress were flying to his hair. 

You felt and heard him laugh at your reaction, only for him to do it again before you could argue. 

"Fuck, Spencer." 

"I know," he said, lifting his eyes back up to meet yours, twisting his finger and flicking his tongue over your clit. "Taste so good, angel. Could stay here for hours, you know?" You did know. He probably would, unless you had a mass protest to hold. 

"Please," you gasped out, pathetically so.

"Please what?" he mused. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but he chose that exact moment to push another finger into you, cutting any sentences you had off with a moan. 

"You've gotta use your words, sweet girl." You shot a glare at him, and he barked out a laugh. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

He was sorry, because he resumed his ministrations without so much of a delay, both fingers pushing in and out of you, filling the air with vulgar wet sounds to accompany your gasps and moans. 

You moaned his name again, and he mumbled another gentle, "Yeah?"

"Wanna come," you said.

"I know," he said, voice oh so soft, juxtaposing his every action. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling," you replied, almost huffily, and he laughed, increasing the pace of his fingers only slightly. 

"You don't wanna ask me?"

"Do I need to?"

"Maybe you should start."

"Spencer."

He laughed again, and you felt him nod his head against you. "Okay, okay. Making you come. Relax, sweet girl."

Arguably, you were the most relaxed you could possibly be. But you no longer had enough fight in you to argue, because he was rutting the tips of his fingers up against that spot inside you, and his tongue was moving faster, and you were gone; seeing stars. 

Maybe one thing he loved more than eating you out, was making you orgasm from eating you out. The way your fingers that almost always ended up in his hair scratched at his scalp, your thighs clenching around his head just enough that he had an excuse to pin them open, your voice going breathless and high-pitched. He had watched and felt it happen so many times it was burned into his memory, and yet he was still in awe of you regardless. 

Coaxing you through it and teetering on the edge of overstimulation was another bonus, because your breathless moans turned into whines and you always, always tried to escape him, and he got to remind you how much stronger he was, arms hooking under your thighs and tugging you closer. 

"Spencer," you whimpered. "No more. Please."

That was his cue to stop, and he pulled back, lips upturned in a lovesick grin as he looked up at you, face glistening. 

He pecked up your body until he had reached your face, and then he was kissing you again, regardless of the remnants of your release covering his skin. 

"Did so good. You're always so perfect for me, sweet girl," he murmured against your lips, swallowing your quiet whines. 

"Love you," you managed to mumble out, and he smiled against the cheek he was now kissing. 

"Love you too."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

[jolalibrary]

5. pepper red

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter five of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 2.5k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] SMUT. p in v. dirty talk/mutual appreciation. minor competency. frankie is pretty, thick and sexy. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. you wear a date outfit but not specified. no use of y/n. an: if this was a sitcom episode, it wouldn't be allowed to be aired and also, i passed my exam, wahoo.

prev chapter | series masterlist

For some reason, it doesn’t surprise you that his bedroom is forest green. Or, that it’s accented by strong whites and similar dark woods as the living room. All earthy tones, him.

In the same way, it doesn’t surprise you that his skin is soft, all smooth as your fingers brush over his skin when you lift his t-shirt from his frame.

Because he looks as good as he did in those videos you’d watched over and over. Getting the chance to see if the silver scars were tricks of the light or stories he hadn’t shared. Your fingers discovered it was the latter.

“God, you look good, Frankie.”

He snorts, before sliding a thumb under your jaw, forcing you to confront big, doe brown eyes. Ones that you’d fall into if you could, especially as they pause, stare from one eye to the next, likely to see if there’s a lie there—a slither of untruth to your confession.

There isn’t.

A thing you ensure sits at the forefront, a silent plea for him to believe you. You suppose he must do when his mouth slides back over yours. Tongue pressing at your lower lip, seeking entry that you happily allow.

You lose yourself in it, him. How good it feels to have his lips on yours again. To have the added feel of purposeful and intentional fingers taking their sweet time to slide your outfit from you.

Because his hands trail over as much as they can. Doing so as though he’s busy carving a memory of you in his mind, making you real. A thing you won’t admit you’re doing too, too busy committing the way he feels, as you run your hands across his shoulders. Feel the expanse of them, the width, wondering—as his tongue swirls a shape on your neck—if yoga will really help you fit his broadness between your thighs.

Frankie must notice you’re drifting, thinking, because his mouth finds yours. A thing which cements you to the moment. Kissing you slowly, deliberately—a hint of mint amongst the drink he’d provided and you smirk, smiling against him.

Because he’s eaten a TicTac.

It mixes, fighting to refresh as though you hadn’t eaten and consumed the same fast food. But the act, the way his lips slide against yours, makes that joke melt as quickly as it appeared, because he’s completing his mission: the one to leave you breathless.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you choose to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Tongue sliding back behind his teeth as a soft moan escapes him; swallowed by your own as his hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. The feel of him, hard and ready against you sends a thrill of anticipation darting through you.

It’s easy, simple, to allow the rhythm of your bodies to become a language all of its own. A two-way conversation being sketched out and written in sighs and moans, punctuated by the occasional gasp. A symphony of desire.

And then you make things shift. Change the tempo when your hand descends between the two of you. Feeling him, grasping his cock, taking note of the way he inhales at the feel of your fingers. For a moment, his mouth hovers over yours—both open, just breathing. His palms flat to your side—as you hold him, feel his cock twitch in your hand. Moving, slowly—almost torturously, but it’s actually with precision.

He’s so hard, thick. Your fingers tighten their hold, wrist moving more, palm sliding up and down as you taste the way he says fuck.

“Bed,” he groans, almost through gritted teeth.

Smirking, you bite his lower lip. Light. Not piercing or enough to leave an indent. “In a minute.”

And it leaves his tongue again. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, baby.

All you can think about is how good he sounds, looks—feels. His head tipped back, neck elongated—lips parting as each expletive lasts longer than the four letters that make it up. It’s cliché to say it’s never been like this, but a truth that personal isn’t always easy to confess.

“Not waited to do this right with you to come before you have, Rainy.”

His fingers, those calloused ones attached to those hard-working hands, wrap around your wrist. Light, but determined.

“Oh, Butterscotch,” you tease, mouth close to his. “You been thinking about this?”

He smirks, just as he clasps his other hand to your side—tugging, yanking you flush. Feeling him, all of him, as you’re guided, moved, backs of your legs meeting the well-made bed you’re about to mess up and ruin.

“Since the moment I heard you laugh.”

Your body falls back, the sheets cool, smooth, pressing against your bare spine, before his body comes up—caging you. Nudging your thighs apart with his knee.

“Just kept thinking, bet you make other pretty noises too.”

Lips parting, you knot your fingers in the curls at the base of his neck, letting his lips slide into his cheek. That dimple appearing. The one which tries to hide under wiry hair and shyness, but is deeper than ever now, nothing held back or hidden.

And you can’t help but watch, completely transfixed by the light from the lamp he'd flicked on. The one lighting up his face, making him appear golden, ethereal. Able to discern each of the shades that make up his eyes, the flecks within them, the different browns that make a colour you dream and think of constantly, but you’re not sure has any other name than Frankie.

“Can I touch you, baby?”

You find you can only nod.

Words failing, falling, simply replaced by a gasp as he slides them between your partly spread thighs—feeling it, how wet you are. How slick and desperate you are to have him. A mess, all for him, by him. It likely ruined the underwear you’d left on his floor and dampened the sheets under you.

“This all for me?”

The rasp of his voice only makes you ache more for him. Hips desperate to shift so his fingers do more than trace and tease, but plunge and curl.

“Yes,” you moan.

It's like he knows you. A thought that bubbles and bursts when your fingers grasp at his sheets, his two fingers feel so much different than your own; Than the toys you own that are shoved in protective bags inside your sock drawer. His seek, aiming to find that spot inside you, stretches you, making your toes curl and your knuckles ache from how tight they hold the sheets.

And he’s talking. A sea of things that you half-catch and miss the rest. That you look good, feel good, that he wants to watch you come apart before he even thinks about giving you his cock.

Words almost leave your mouth, but you’re barely present.

More electric than person; more liquid than solid. So fucking close already you can feel the tremors in your thighs from not rutting yourself against his hand when the base of his palm presses flat to your swollen nerves.

“Fuck, Frankie—”

“Do you like it when I talk, baby?” his voice becomes an anchor. Keeping you here, not allowing you to float too far as you nod, crinkled pillows sounding as you do. “I think you do. I think you like hearing how hard you make me, how much I think about you in this bedroom, in the shower—at work—“

You’re arching. Barely clinging to the present as your feet flatten to root you, to grip to reality as your ears ring and pleasure does more thrum, but builds and builds—all compressing, hot, closer to liquid fire.

“—look at me, baby.”

And you do.

Lids flipping open as you’re met with nothing but desire, lust and need. It pushes you, suddenly freefalling. Your throat aching, scratched with the syllables of his name as you dig fingers into his curls and curl your body as much against him as possible as he works you through it. Him coaxing, mouth on your collarbone as he licks and lathes as you moan, and pant.

It’s then you look at him again.

Bathed in a sandy glow, sweat peppered on his chest, glinting and glittering as you find his eyes on you, taking you in as you catch your breath.

He’s so handsome, beautiful. In a way that ruined you before, that made you think of nothing but him, which now devastates you—in a way you only want him to do over and over.

It’s easier to kiss him than say it.

To trace the words over his mouth as he hums, as the vibration tickles across your lips before you’re manoeuvring him. Only paused in doing so as he dragged his lips down your neck, the sound of a drawer opening, closing, hearing a wrapper crinkle.

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment when your hand snatches it from him, placing it between your teeth, trying as they do so easily in movies to lightly rip it over with your teeth. You struggle. Suddenly nervous about piercing it, mind in overdrive because what—

"Easy, baby. I've got it," he growls into your ear, taking it from you, opening it more with ease than you'd managed.

And it makes you crash your mouth back to his. Etching more things to his mouth, smudging them over his tongue. How much you want this, want him.

It’s why you’re grateful that Frankie moves with ease until he’s on his back and you’re on top of him. A hand finds a home on your back, once the empty wrapper is discarded, fingers spreading out, flowing warmth into your bones. Then the other begins aiding, lining himself up as the head presses against your opening.

When you take as much of him as you can, fingers soothing your hip at the stretch, the hiss drawn from your lips at the light sting, before your forehead meets his. It's a moment before you move again. His words are there, guiding, before the room is flooded with a moan that's unearthed from your soul. One that is almost smothered in his own, a groan that makes heat flood your ears and a smile grace your mouth.

“So good for me, feel so good—“

“Can take more,” you interrupt, breathless. Slowly moving again, lifting up before sliding back down his cock—walls welcoming him, stretching, taking him to the hilt. “Y’feel good, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you roll your hips slowly, torturously if anything. Still sensitive. Little gasps escape as you begin to find a rhythm, one that makes his teeth bite down on his lip.

Taking his hand, pulling it to your breast, wrapping around it as he cups it—as his groan stains the air between the two of you—you draw an O with your hips, feel that heat in your stomach.

“I like your hands, Frankie.”

A line appears, deep between his two brows. A look of shock, surprise—awe—spreads over his face like a sunny day suddenly appearing in a storm. Before, it’s slipping away, hiding, wriggling away to some depth of him you wish to call back.

“I like your voice, your smile—fuck, oh my god—and-and I like your thighs, and your…”

You continue, babbling, rambling as his hands find your hips, steadying, moving you, thrusting up into you as little spots appear in your vision, as your own voice becomes distant and easily forgettable.

But the look on his face is anything but the latter.

He’s spellbound, utterly captivated—appearing as though if his mind was a camera, he’d have filled up several memory cards with what he was trying to capture.

And it feels good.

A wanting so bad that it almost makes you snap there and then, more so as the head of his cock kisses that part of you once again, a whine coated in both a gasp and a moan—

“Put your hands on the headboard, baby.”

And you do, assisted by him moving you with him sheathed inside of you before palm after palm is placed. The fabric underneath is soft, almost like velvet—leaving marks of your touch behind in its wake as you feel his mouth on the underside of your breast.

“You look good like this,” he continues, mouth pressing kisses to your skin, “But then, you always do.”

Your eyes snap to his, finding nothing but hunger paddling in brown. You don't fight the heat that flares out to the last few places pleasure hasn’t touched. Where only compliments and adoration can kiss and warm.

Then he says your name.

Not baby, not Rainy, but the one you’d handed him in that paint aisle and set yourself on a course for unravelling. A thing you don’t regret, but rather wish had happened sooner.

Your name rasped in that deep way that echoes through the room long after the last letter is spoken, digging deep into your soul as it unlocks something. It makes every sound amplified; the rustle of sheets, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin meeting skin.

“Let me hear you, baby,” cuts through, slicing,

And you do.

Your whine shifts into a sob, almost choking on it as it snaps—as pleasure rips through you and drowns you in waves. There’s nothing but white, a much louder ringer, and the distant knowledge that you’re spraying his name across the room as your hips stutter and he thrusts up into you, twitching, fucking breathless from it.

His hands, large and holding tight, keep you rooted—slowly hearing him groaning, grunting, low hisses of your name and how good you feel tight around his cock.

His fingers dig into your skin when he follows you. When his eyes clench, and his mouth parts around your name, lighting it up, making it seem as special as he makes you feel.

You collapse fully against him, thighs still shaking, little tremors in your muscles as your fingers brush back his damp curls from his forehead. A smile easy to find, to let slide over your mouth as you kiss him.

The light from the lamp drapes over you—still sticky, a mess between your thighs as you kiss him again, bodies flush. More gentle, a light lick across his bottom lip as you feel him grin, hands roaming over your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the slope of your back

He murmurs your name, palm sliding up your cheek, tip of his nose brushing against yours. “Should clean you up.”

“Hmm…”

His thumb swipes, hearing him swallow as your eyes open and find his already on you. “Don’t go.”

"To clean up?"

"Tonight."

Biting your lip, you try to fight it—less a smile and more a grin. “Okay. I won’t.”

And his lips capture yours once more. A thing you relax into—easily. Just like you keep finding so effortless to do with him.

next chapter ->

[l0lita-luv]

Billie Eilish SFW Headcannons

Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader

Fluff + Angst

warnings- reader is specified as fem-no use of y/n

a/n- Listen to Faye Webster while reading :)

divider creds to @aqualogia

A= Affection (How do they show affection, how often do they do it?)

I feel like Billie likes to show affection with gifts and the type to love verbally express herself! Will always buy you things, you look at something for ten seconds? Will but it immediately, always gives you words of affirmation more than once a day!

B= Best friend (How are they like as a best friend?)

Is an amazing friend? Will always be there to comfort you and you guys always have the best sleepovers. But she gets a lil flustered because she has a little crush on you!!

C= Cuddles (Do they like cuddles? How do they cuddle?)

Loves cuddling! You guys always cuddle while on the couch, while sleeping, really anywhere comfortable! You too always facing each other with your legs tangled together!

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I think she would want to settle down with you! Maybe after some months she will start settling down. Believe it or not but I did Billie can cook! She loves to make you food and is quite good at cleaning!

E= Ending (How are they like after a breakup?)

She’s a wreck! Will try her best to get you off her mind but everything reminds her of you :(. She still kept pictures of you two on her wall and stared at them whenever she would try sleeping. You felt the exact same thing and you guys got back together don’t worry :)!

F- Fiancé (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I think after a year or more she would think about proposing! She really values the time the two of you have and doesn’t really rush anything. But if she does propose she want to make sure the wedding is perfect so maybe a year or more after she proposes!

G= Gentle (How gentle are they? Physically and emotionally?)

SUPER GENTLE!! Literally is so sweet, even if she barely even touches you she will think she hit you and immediately start apologizing and taking care of you as if your bleeding! She’s also really gently emotionally too, she loves to affirm you that she cares about you and all of the fluffy stuff :).

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do you do it? How does it feel like?)

I feel like she prefers cuddling but don’t get me wrong she likes hugs too! Hugs are given not very often but you do hug each other whenever you see each other! Hugs are super soft with Billie and will have her hands on your waist through the whole thing.

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

She said I love you in the first 6 months into the relationship and she doesn’t regret it because you both actually said it at the same time (that’s actually really sweet stop)

J= Jealousy (How Jealous do they get? How do they get Jealous?)

She can get pretty jealous easily, I think she would get jealous if you give someone more attention than her or if someone is clearly flirting with you.

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses are amazing with Billie! She usually kisses you everywhere but usually on your lips! I feel like she would like to be kissed on her cheek and lips!

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

She’s pretty good with kids but sometimes panics and doesn’t know what to do! But if you have a younger sibling I think they would get a long well!

M= Morning (How are mornings spent with them?

She usually sleeps really late because she’s super busy with work a lot of the time so you always make sure to make her breakfast! She really appreciates it and always remind you that she does.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

You know usually have to assure her that she doesn’t have to work so much and to come to bed! She usually folds and you two watch an episode of the series you two are watching together!

O= Open (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they reveal everything all at once or do they reveal little things slowly?)

I feel like she will start opening up in the best friend stage! I think she just has a really strong bond with you so she trusts you will a lot of things, but if she does open up to you while you guys are friends I think she will reveal little things slowly, but when you two start dating I think she will reveal a lot of things all at once.

P= Patience (How easily are they angered?)

I think she does have some patience, she really tries to keep calm if you guys ever argue and it always does work out! She doesn’t really confront you with anger if she just has assumptions.

Q= Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Would they remember every little detail or minor things?)

She will try her best to remember everything! She usually remembers every detail and her calendar is filled with anniversary dates such as when you both said I love you for the first time.

R= Remember (What is their favorite memory with you?)

Her favorite memory is your first date together! She laughs back at it because you both were such nervous stuttering wrecks. She still teases you about the corny things you said that day and it’s embarrassing because you weren’t the only one.

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

She’s super protective when your not around friends or family, if your at the club or somewhere where you don’t know anyone she has eyes in the back of her head! Will suspect that everyone in the room has bad intentions. But when your around friends she loosens up because she trusts them!

T= Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, and everyday tasks?)

She puts a bunch of effort into dates! Will always take you to your favorite restaurants but if you two want to stay in she will order your favorite takeout and will put on your favorite movie! She remembers dates really well, she always surprises you with something on your anniversary and you do the same. She overall puts a lot of effort into the relationship!

U= Ugly (What’s a bad habit of theirs?)

I don’t think she has really any bad habits but maybe her working a bunch even when she doesn’t have too!

V= Vanity (How concerned are they about their looks?)

She isn’t really that concerned about her looks when it comes to you, but when you two go out she sometimes is.

W= Whole (Do they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes! Once when you went out of state to visit your family for a week, she kept on calling you, and texting you about almost everything she had done that day! When you came back she could not stop smothering you with love!

X= Xtra (Random Head-canon for them)

I have a feeling that she absolutely loves you wearing skirts and really girly things in general, she likes how different it looks from hers and in general really likes it. But do not fret my masc girlies she really likes the style too! She thinks it’s cool having the same sense of fashion and being able to share things.

Y= Yuck (Something they wouldn’t like)

She would HATE it when you doubt yourself! She sometimes takes it badly since she always assures you all the time!

Z= Zzz (What are some of their sleeping habits?)

As I have mentioned throughout the head-canons, she sleeps really late sometimes! But she loves to cuddle you and prefers for you guys to face each other but sometimes she likes to spoon you!

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️TWENTY

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN TWENTY

The trip through the mall continues. More obstacles and surprises await. And a decision that will change her life forever.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Free use/power play. Jealousy. Sex toys under clothing. Forced public masturbation. Orgasm denial/control. Cockwarming. Vaginal sex. Fingering. Spanking. Oral cockwarming. Oral sex. Collaring. (For even more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 11k

A/N: As this is the finale of Season Two, we have another Big Angst Episode ahead of us. Or you have, I already know what happens. Enjoy! (But be aware: there is so much going on here... mind the tags!)

NINETEEN 🟥 TWENTY

They spend the rest of the afternoon strolling through the mall, and by the end of it, she is sore, her insides are buzzing, aflame with the need for release after hours of walking around with those damn toys vibrating inside her. He's either forgotten he turned them on or doesn't care too much about her discomfort, and she's not willing to ask him to make it stop. This is her punishment, she has to pull through to make him proud. To make him praise her.

She's desperate for it, that itch that needs to be scratched worse than the constant stimulation, and it grows every time she sees him smiling at whichever woman is serving them next. That horribly annoying (and annoyingly pretty) waitress at the cafe, the shop clerk that ran after him to sell him a new tie, that girl who handed out fliers for a local festival, the older woman giving out samples of cheese or whatever, no matter who, he's always been so goddamn nice and friendly and flirty, and she hates it.

He's charming, yes, and handsome, and sure, she is the girl whose hand he is holding, but whenever another woman steps forth, he starts to ignore her, would even let go of her hand if she wouldn't squeeze it so tightly. Sometimes he'd look at her then, his eyes dark, and she doesn't know if it's anger or annoyance or something else, but she always ducks her head, lowers her eyes, and just hopes they'll move on soon.

Eventually they do, and he pulls her in front of the cinema that's located at the far end of the shopping center. He steps behind her and wraps his arms around her shoulders, nudging her to look up at the large sign showcasing the available movies to watch. Instead of focusing on the choices ahead of her, she savors the touch, his warmth, his strength, leans against him happily, hands placed on his strong arms.

“What are you in the mood for, baby?” he whispers, his voice that low thrumming right in her ear, vibrating all the way down to mingle with the other vibrating things inside her. Her cunt clenches hungrily around the toy. “Some generic romcom with a boring guy and a too-hot-for-him girl? A murder mystery where it's usually the butler with the frying pan? Some historic tale that's probably good to fall asleep to? Or a nice, gory slasher movie full of blood and fake boobs?”

She giggles softly at the way he lists the films, and he turns his head slightly to press his lips to her jaw. “I don't know...” she says quietly, licking her lips when her cheeks burn up. “I don't mind either way...”

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning his chin on her shoulder. “How about this thriller about the jealous girl who kills off anyone who looks at her lover the wrong way?”

She freezes, clearing her throat. “Um, which one is that?” she asks, trying to hide her surprise, feigning ignorance.

So he knows about her jealousy, is that it? Was it that obvious? Probably. He's been the first man she's developed some sort of feelings for, and with how he has claimed her, it felt only natural to do the same, to claim him. Is that how it works? She isn't sure. (Also, did he refer to himself as her lover just now or is she reading too much into it?)

Instead of replying, he kisses her cheek again, then grabs her chin and turns her head, meeting her lips while looking deep into her eyes. “Sounds intriguing, though, don't you think?” he whispers between slow and soft pecks.

“I... I don't like violence,” she croaks out, gripping his arm tighter as she leans into his kiss needily. “Can we watch the love story instead?”

He huffs a laugh, his warm breath tickling her lips. “You wouldn't call that a love story too?”

“Killing people for love? Not my kind of romance...”

“No?” he breathes, nuzzling his nose against hers. “Well, it is unusual, but I'd certainly appreciate the gesture.”

She frowns at that, but he only winks and leans back, letting her go. His hand is around hers when he starts walking towards the booth selling the tickets. “Romcom it is, then,” he tells her and buys them each a ticket and some popcorn.

She's shifting in her seat, squirming all the way through the commercials until he finally acknowledges her discomfort. “What's wrong?”

“Sitting is... uh... a little... well, weird,” she stammers out quietly, biting her lip. Walking she has somehow gotten used to, but the soft seat makes her sink deeper into the cushion, causing the stiff harness to dig into her flesh and the toys to push deeper, and with the constant buzzing they move against each other through her walls, and her muscles can't keep up with the clenching.

She sees him frowning in the semi-darkness of the room. When he pulls his phone out and the light of the display hits his face, she notices the smirk. “Oh,” he says with a low chuckle. “Forgot about your two best friends,” he adds, but she knows he didn't. “You could have said something, darling,” he tells her with a stern gaze that she can't take serious with the way his lips curl.

“I'm sorry. It was okay when we were walking...” she whispers back, waiting for him to turn the toys off. Of course he doesn't immediately indulge her, and instead turns them up a notch, then another, and some more, and she grips the armrests of the chair and bites her tongue as a loud moan wants to spill from her lips.

Luckily the room isn't too crowded, there are a few other couples, a small group of women, a larger group of girls, but none of them in their close vicinity. He chose the last row for them, the corner seats, pretty much in the far back, overlooking the rest of the auditorium. And the volume of the commercials does drown out her little squeaks as she presses herself deeper into the seat, thighs clamped together tightly as she fights the sensations.

“Do you want me to turn them off?” he whispers, phone in hand, leaning over to her side. “Are you sure you deserve that?”

She stares at him, sunken into the seat, hands white-knuckling the chair. “Please...” she gasps out, her insides convulsing painfully. The strength of the vibrations goes through her entire body, makes her teeth chatter if she wouldn't grit them. The way the toys hit her oversensitive flesh makes her see stars. If she'd be allowed to come, it wouldn't even be that bad, but she's fighting the burning tension so hard that her muscles start cramping.

“Please what? Use your words, baby.” He's teasing her, and she hates him for it.

“Please... turn them off... or down... but not... like this... please... it hurts...” she stammers through tight lips. “You... you told me... to tell you... when it... when it hurts...”

He hums softly, his thumb sliding over the screen of his phone. “That I did,” he whispers, and she feels the buzzing grow weaker until it finally stops. She still feels the echo of it, the aftershocks, but slowly her body relaxes again.

“Thank you,” she breathes, closing her eyes for a moment.

Of course it's wrong to assume he'd let this go so easily. So when she feels his hand between her sticky thighs, she isn't surprised, but it still startles her. Eyes flying open, she stares at him in the dark, stiffens when he slips his fingers over the harness, then fumbles with the belt holding it together.

She's too weak to move much, to protest, so she lets him unfasten the leather strap that spans over her mound, and in the next moment his fingers don't pull on the dildo, but push in next to it. She cries out quietly, quickly raising a hand to cover her mouth. He watches her intensely, fingers probing, stretching her already tense muscles, pushing the toy this way and that, nudging all the sensitive spots that make her thighs twitch.

Her free hand closes around his wrist and tries to pull him away, but he narrows his eyes at her, and she whines into her palm, hand falling back to the seat. He continues his poking until he finally grips the base of the toy and pulls, only a little, nudge after nudge, before he pushes it back into her clenching cunt, out and in, in and out, a slow rhythm that makes her thrash her head against the backrest, her muffled noises luckily drowned out by the movie beginning with a happy dance song.

She feels like crying though, overwhelmed by the sensations, too sensitive to really enjoy the motions, but he doesn't care, keeps pumping the dildo in and out, and the heat builds up inside her, more and more, stomach tensing, her body contorting in the seat, hips bucking, legs kicking helplessly. He leans over her a little more, his free hand gripping hers and pulling it away from her mouth, and she stares at him in shock, biting her tongue hard to keep the noises down, but he seems to have mercy, finally, and presses his big hand over her quivering lips, holding her jaw, pressing her deeper into the cushions as he doubles his efforts.

Her eyes roll back, stars and black spots dance all around her, head is filled with cotton that's sizzling at the edges, the heat almost unbearable as it gathers in her lower stomach, at the end of her channel, heating up with every deep plunge of the toy, and she's so close, drowning in pleasure but it's not enough, only a few more nudges, a few more...

Suddenly he's pulling back, taking his hand off her face, leaning away, and the dildo slips from her clenching core and leaves her empty and hanging mid-air as shock settles in the place where pleasure has been, and she falls, collapses into the seat, and can't help the loud “No!” that comes out as a whine that echoes through the large room.

And she freezes as she realizes just how loud she's been, staring at the screen and the seats in front of her with wide eyes, holding her breath, further pushing away the sensations deflating inside her. Luckily the protagonists are fighting on screen, bickering back and forth, and her outburst could have easily been a reaction to that because no other cinema goer notices anything or cares enough to turn around.

She huffs a deep sigh and closes her eyes, hiding her burning face behind her hands as she lets the tears flow. It's only a moment of forced reprieve, in which her mind goes into overdrive (she can still feel the heat burning away inside of her, she's been so close, she may not deserve it, may not be allowed, but she would have loved to see it through to the end, no matter how public the place is, she would have done it, would have let him push her over, after hours of being denied, of being edged with no release, and she's been so freaking close...), but the turmoil stops the second she feels his hands on her waist as he manhandles her onto his lap. Not the usual way, but facing the screen, her legs falling open over his strong thighs as he pulls her back against his chest and wraps his arms around her waist.

His cheek scrapes against hers. “Did you really think I was gonna make you come?” he whispers into her ear, making goosebumps pebble her skin. “No, baby, not yet...”

She whines quietly, gripping his arms. Her chest is heaving, heart still thundering within, the burning cotton doused with shockingly cold water, leaving it charred at the edges but still filling up her head. She stares blankly at the screen, barely follows the story, just lets her eyes rest on the moving pictures, lets the sounds sink into her body. She feels numb now, frozen in place, denied to go anywhere else.

His hands move then, one holding her hip, pushing her slightly down his legs, the other fumbling with something behind her. She barely registers anything anymore. How he lifts the back of her skirt, how he grips her waist again and pulls her back, how he moves her legs to rest between his, but when his voice thrums in her ear, she perks up.

“Come sit on my cock,” he breathes into her, heating up the cotton in her head.

She grips his knees when she leans forward on shaking legs, raising her rear and her hips, nudging against him until she feels the warm tip of his cock against her wet skin. Grinding slightly, she hopes for him to just slip in, surely it must be easy with how she's been stretched and prepared over the last hours, but it's not easy without looking at what she does.

“Please help me...” she whispers as she looks at him over her shoulder.

There's a smile on his lips, but it looks dark and menacing, causing a shiver to run down her spine. He still indulges her when he grabs the base of his length and guides it to her entrance, then grabs her hip with the other hand and pushes her down, hard, swift, and she gasps, slapping her hand back over her mouth, as she feels him sinking deep and deeper until he bottoms out, pushing through tense muscles, scraping over sensitive flesh, prodding her deepest spots.

And then he just rests there, or she is, on top of him, impaled and stuck. He pulls her back against his chest, and the tight squeeze nudges the plug in her ass, making her whimper into her palm. She's braced on his legs, her own pushed together as he strains his thighs against hers, caging her in, holding her in place. His arms come back around her waist, further limiting her movements.

She wants to buck her hips, grind on him, find any kind of relief from the tension building up all over again, but he clicks his tongue quietly, and she stiffens, just sits there, on his cock, staring at the screen through bleary eyes, with her cheeks burning and the tears rolling uncontrollably.

Eventually they dry on her warm skin, and she becomes numb again. She still feels his warmth, his strength, his steady breaths on her neck, his hands occasionally rubbing along her side or over her breasts and down her stomach, and she leans into him, into the closeness, her hands relaxing on her lap. The cotton is gone, or expanded so much she can't make out the difference. Her head feels empty, no thoughts, just him...

A freeing void. A space only for her.

And she relaxes enough to focus back on the movie, watches it with growing interest, reacts to hectic scenes by twitching and tensing up, coos when the couple-to-be is touching or, God forbid, kissing, even laughs softly when the comic relief character does something funny.

She forgets about the all-consuming need to climax, or any need for that matter. She doesn't forget about him, big and strong behind her, holding her on his lap, his cock deep inside her, warm and cozy like it should be, using her hole to keep him happy and content. That's her purpose after all.

He moves sometimes, shifting in his seat, rolling his hips upwards, teasing her, and she lets him, leaning into it, into him, smiling softly when his fingers brush against her chin to turn her head. He looks softer now, relaxed, proud of her? She hopes so, but it doesn't matter either way. She has no needs, no wants, this is all about him.

He presses his lips to her cheek and makes her mewl, then turns her back to focus on the rest of the film. She grows tired after a while, the plot sizzling out on the screen, becoming predictable and silly, or she's just too exhausted to follow along properly. Her eyelids grow heavy, her head lolls back against his shoulder, and she breathes deeply until the noises around her become a comforting drone that lets her slip into a dark soothing nothingness.

She wakes up to a soft hum, then a nibble to her earlobe, and when she stirs with a tired groan, she is already being lifted, the pressure within easing for a moment before she is draped over the seat in front of her, her hair falling over her head when she dips down into the soft cushions, a surprised yelp escaping her before she braces on her arms and lifts her head a bit more.

The auditorium is dark and empty, the movie over, the other people gone, and he stands behind her, hands on her hips, and without waiting for her to wake up more, pushes his hard cock back into her clenching hole. She wails quietly, arms shaking as she leans on them, trying to hold her heavy head up. He seems to be in a rush as he starts pounding into her right away, with hard thrusts, hips slamming into her legs, making her bounce on the backrest of the chair.

He's quick and hectic, driving himself deep, chasing his own orgasm, but as he does so, he doesn't seem to care that her clit keeps rubbing against the fabric of the seat, back and forth, making her howl and cry. She's still sensitive, and the added stimulation makes her head spin, the tension within coiling up tightly, ready to spring free, and it's when he groans behind her, picking up the pace, ramming and rutting into her, that she squeezes her eyes shut and parts her lips for a drawn-out moan as the pleasure finally, finally, washes over her tense limbs, like a cold soothing breeze after stewing in the sun for too long.

She goes limp as the lights still flicker behind her eyelids, her thighs twitching against his, toes curling in her shoes, hips stuttering, her arms losing grip before she collapses into the seat, no longer caring that she's upside down, no longer caring about anything. He must have felt the tight clenching of her cunt, and there's a pause in his thrusts, but only for so long before he continues, hammering into her fast and hard until he grunts and stills deep inside her, hands digging into her waist, holding her, his body shuddering against her rear as he spills his warmth into her depths.

He pulls out soon after, and she feels his cum dripping out of her clenching hole, a satisfying sensation somehow, like a caress on irritated skin. The moment only lasts so long before she feels something hard rubbing along the inside of her thigh, gathering his spend, and then the dildo pushes back into her, plugging her up, sealing his seed, warm and comforting inside her. Her muscles clench, but she feels too loose to hold the toy, though she doesn't have to worry as he then fastens the harness back around her mound, holding the item in place.

She barely registers any of that with her head hanging upside down, the seat pressing into her stomach. She's just a limp body, draped over furniture, a doll someone forgot to take with them. But he doesn't forget, she's pulled upright then, and his hand finds her throat, holding her as he presses her against his chest.

“Did you just come?” His voice sounds angry, and she doesn't know why. She still feels like floating, relaxed, content, and he should too. He came inside her, didn't he? They shared this beautiful moment... why is he so upset?

Slowly the cotton in her head dissolves, and her eyelids flutter, she inhales deeply, swallows against his hand, her eyes focusing back on his face. He stares at her, hard, stoic, and she blinks, blinks again, licks her dry lips, then furrows her eyebrows as cold dread crashes through her body. “Oh...” she breathes out.

Her punishment. She wasn't supposed to come.

A pained whine escapes her, and she raises her hands to grab his wrist, looking at him pleadingly. “I'm sorry,” she whispers. “I'm sorry!”

He stares at her, then shakes his head. “I'll remember this,” is all he says as he lets her go, fixes his clothes, then hers, even untangles her hair, before he grabs her hand and drags her past the row of seats out of the auditorium.

Her legs are shaking badly, and the soreness of her body returns with every step. The toys shift inside her, tormenting her all over again, even more so with how sensitive she still is, the stickiness between her thighs feels hot and uncomfortable, the welts on the backs of them sting, the skin tight and burning.

But the ache in her heart seems to be the worst. She didn't mean to disappoint him, but how was she supposed to stop that with how he handled her over the seat?

It's not fair.

She's fighting tears as he pulls her after him through the mall. After a long trek in uncomfortable silence, they stop in front of a coffee stand, and before he turns to the woman behind it with his order, he turns to her, raises a hand to wipe at her wet cheeks and gives her a pointed look. Pull yourself together, it says, she's sure, and she nods, biting her lip, swallowing hard.

She is then forced to watch yet another display of his charming personality as he flirts with the barista, who laughs and throws her hair back, enjoying herself a little too much as the tall handsome man talks to her in a soft voice that is usually reserved for her. Grinding her teeth, she clenches her hands into fists (he's just let her stand there, a few feet behind him, completely ignoring her).

Suddenly a voice chimes in her head, one she hasn't heard before, or never paid enough attention to. Run, it tells her, use his distraction and flee, get out of here. He cannot keep treating you like this! You are more than just a hole, a doll to move, you don't deserve this!

She freezes, panic rippling through her. To her own surprise, she looks along the crowded hallways, eyes scanning the various exit routes. It would be easy to slip between the other people, with how small she is, he wouldn't even notice while he's fixated on that woman at the coffee stand.

Just go. Move! the voice urges.

And then, she does, driven by the coldness spreading within her, turns slightly, takes one step, then another, putting a little distance between the busy man and herself, and her heart is pounding hard in her chest, loud in her ears, drowning out everything but the nagging voice. She reaches a group of people in front of a window display, she just has to move between them, out of sight. Cold sweat spreads all over her body, her limbs are tense and shaking, tears burning in her eyes.

She doesn't look back, but she wants to, wants to turn around, go back to him, throw herself into his strong arms. Where is she even supposed to go? All alone in a place she's never been to? She has no money, no ID, nothing. Just those damn toys inside her holes and the bruises on her skin. A sight she doesn't want to share with anyone (but him).

What if she went to the police, told them her story, what happened, they'd treat her like a dumb victim, just another case file, and what if he got arrested for it, or accused and then cleared of all charges because he's rich and can afford lawyers who'll kick him out of anything. It's her word against his, and his wrath will be even worse. He'll find her, she's sure, he told her he won't let her go, she is his.

She is his.

It's her purpose to serve him, to please him, to make him happy, proud, make him praise her. And she needs the praise. She is a good girl! She did everything he's asked of her! She made mistakes, yes, but she'll make it better, she'll redeem herself. She can still make it better. She just has to turn around...

And so she does. Sniffling pathetically, she stumbles back the way she came, back to him, back to the coffee stand, where he's still standing (and flirting), and even though his back is turned to her, she can imagine that beautiful smile on his handsome face, the twinkle in his dark eyes, things she wants to see, for the rest of her life.

She's so focused on him, on her own guilt burning through her, that she suddenly trips over her shoes, those damn shoes that give her two inches she doesn't know how to balance on, and she falls, with a shriek, landing hard on her hands and knees, several sharp pains assaulting her at once, and the tears come without warning. She feels horrible, for trying to run away, for the state of her body, for embarrassing him in public.

He's with her immediately, his hands on her elbows as he pulls her to her feet, cradling her in his arms, genuine concern on his face as he looks down at her. She sniffles, cries without restraint, lets it all out as he presses her to his chest, soothing her with soft hums. “I'm so sorry,” she wails into his shirt, gripping at the fabric, holding onto him.

He rubs her back, his hand warm and comforting, easing the hiccups that shake her small body. “It's okay, shh, calm down, it's okay,” he whispers. His voice does calm her down eventually, and she leans against him, tired and sad, but glad to be back in his arms, having his attention, his comfort.

Leaning her back by her shoulder, he watches her, wipes her tears from her flushed face, tilts his head. He doesn't ask what happened but he can't know that she tried to escape from him. He shouldn't either. He's already angry with her, she can't handle more. “Sorry,” she mumbles again and rubs her burning eyes, hoping he'll brush this off as her being too clumsy to stand on those damn shoes.

He frowns at her, then bends down to pick up his coffee cup. She's leaning into him when he drapes his arm around her shoulders and guides her past the group of people she's attempted to hide between. What a stupid idea. Why would she ever leave this man? She'd be stupid to try, she is stupid for trying. He's giving her so much, changed her whole pathetic life, gave her a purpose. She's still afraid of his anger, of the rest of her punishment, but she'll live. He won't kill her, won't throw her away if she breaks, she is his. And he'll keep her, no matter what. He has to!

It's a reassuring thought in the midst of her doubts and fears while her body screams for her to make it stop. She doesn't care about the soreness anymore, the prospect of more pain, her heart is aflame with a feeling that's burning down anything else, a feeling so strong she'd rather die than leave him, a passion, a need, a growing obsession. For him. And only him.

The sun is setting when they eventually reach his car on the emptying parking lot. She's caught deep in her mind, already making plans of how to make it up to him. He pulls her to the trunk, opens it, and, without warning, crouches down beside her, his hands slipping under her skirt. She gasps, gripping the cold metal of the car and his shoulder, her eyes darting around the lot, but nobody seems to be close enough to see them.

He's fumbling with the harness, opens the belts and then pulls the leather straps down her legs. The toy in her cunt moves first, her muscles unable to hold it, probably more willing to push it out after such a long time. He catches it before it slips out fully, and while she's burning up in a mixture of shame and relief, he turns her around and pokes at her butt plug, moves it in and out for a moment to ease her muscles, then pulls it out, one ball-shaped bump at a time. She sighs deeply when it's gone.

The loss of pressure feels heavenly, but only for a moment, then she feels strangely empty, lost without her new best friends, as he's dubbed them. She watches him discard of the glistening dildos in one of the bags in the trunk, before he closes it with a thud and nudges her towards the passenger side of the car. Her core is clenching around nothing now, her wetness a steady stream down her legs until she presses her thighs together, trapping it. She should feel embarrassed about it, but she can't bring herself to care anymore.

He guides her into the car, buckles her in, doesn't look at her when he closes the door and walks to his side. He's punishing her with silence again, and when the engine roars to life and he drives off the parking lot, she lets out a quiet sigh as she wrings her hands in her lap nervously. But she only has to stew in her dark thoughts for so long before he pulls onto a service road leading into the forest at the edge of town.

She swallows hard when he kills the engine and gets out, then opens her door, unbuckles her and pulls her out as well. Her legs are shaking, the air is cold around them (adding to the ice inside her stomach), and he leads her towards a fallen over tree trunk. Sitting down, he pats his lap, and while she's confused why he would stop here to let her sit on there, she's corrected in her assumptions when he pulls her close and drapes her over his lap with her ass in the air and her hair falling over her head.

Bracing on his thigh, she knows what's coming. She can already feel the sting of his hand on her ass cheeks, but... nothing happens. Instead she feels his hand in her hair, pulling it back and her head up by gripping it hard, then his other hand is in front of her face, holding something, and even in the darkness around them, with only the last glow of the setting sun behind the trees, she can see that it's her panties, the soft pink ones he took from her (before they visited Mistress' sex shop). They're bunched up into a ball, and before she can wonder why he's showing her that, he pushes the fabric against her lips, and she's too surprised to stop it, opens her mouth almost willingly, then croaks a muffled wail when he shoves it past her teeth.

“Bite down on that,” he tells her, his voice harsh and dark.

She sniffles through her nose, tasting the remnants of sweat and his cum on the fabric, her spit seeping into it, her jaw aching already, but she nods into his hand, holding the gag in place, forcing herself to endure. He lets go of her hair, shifts her on his lap, then pushes her skirt up and exposes her bare ass. His hand rubs over the soft skin, teasing lower at the welts still straining on her thighs, and she prepares for the first impact, for the pain crashing through her, but again, nothing happens.

His fingers tease between her legs, nudging them apart, before he slips them between her wet folds, her cunt clenching in anticipation. The first poke comes as a surprise, making her cry out into the panties between her teeth. His finger slips deep, then pulls back, pokes in again, harsh and fast, a sudden stab that confuses her body. He adds another finger, repeats the motion, sudden stabs, deep, plunging into her wet hole, the squelching noises loud in the quiet forest.

She squirms slightly on his lap, her fingers curling into his jeans, her feet kicking uncontrollably. He keeps fingering her, now with three fingers, pressed tightly together as they invade her cunt, stretch her, penetrate deep, then scissor out, pushing against her tight muscles. She moans voicelessly.

He leans over her then, hot breaths on her ear. “One day I'll put my entire hand into your cute little cunt, and I'll play you like a puppet.” His lewd words make her clench around his fingers, and a soft chuckle escapes him. “Oh, you'd like that, hm?” He pushes his fingers deeper, then rips them out, gives her time to scream into the gag, before plunging them back in roughly. She writhes, wailing, confused and aroused, and he has to push his other hand onto her back to keep her still.

The fingers disappear then, leaving her empty once more, but when he presses his wet fingertips to her throbbing clit, she arches her back and wishes he'd finger her some more. The sudden stimulation makes her jump, thighs twitching, legs kicking, her breaths ragged, her muffled noises loud in her ear.

He draws tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing, prodding, pushing, pinching, and the edge is near, she can feel it, that tension coiling up, lights flickering behind her eyelids, but she should have seen it coming: it stops before she can get anywhere, the sudden darkness almost turning red with how frustrated he leaves her.

In her angry haze she hears the sound of his belt buckle, then a strange scratching noise, and without seeing it, she knows, he's pulled his belt from the loops of his jeans. A sudden coldness crashes through her, freezes any other emotion, and the sheer panic is back, of pain she never wants to experience again, of leather hitting her soft skin, digging into her flesh to leave ugly red welts.

She's squirming on his lap then, panic turning into the hysterical need to get away, but he only has to grab her arm and twist it to make her stop moving. She howls into her gag, and he has to use both hands to fold her arms behind her back. She stiffens when she feels the leather she's expected somewhere else being wrapped around her elbows and her forearms, holding her arms in place.

Rolling her shoulders against the restraints, she realizes she can't move, and somehow that eases the panic instead of making it worse. At least to a degree. Without being able to do anything else, it forces her to focus on her breathing. Gagged and bound, she can only kick her legs, but he doesn't seem to care about that when his hand is back on her thighs, fingertips teasing up her skin, fingernails scraping over her bruises, making her gasp and shiver under the sensations.

And then he slaps her, a hard and sudden blow against her left ass cheek, catching her completely off guard. Her scream is muffled, and she almost chokes on all the spit gathering in her mouth before she tries to ground herself by biting down on her panties when he does the same barely a second later on her other cheek. He does that a few more times, and she squirms and cries out with every slap, body convulsing against the pain shooting through her.

Her skin is burning, blood pulsing in the same rhythm as her rapidly beating heart in her chest. His hand smooths over the irritations, making her whimper, and more so when he slips it between her thighs and pushes two fingers into her again. Then another slap echoes through the forest, making her jump and squirm and clench heavily around his fingers. The angle is different, he's using his other hand, and he hits spots he hasn't hit before. With his fingers stuck in her tight cunt, he repeats the motion, hitting her left cheek, then her right, the sides and the soft slope that leads into her thighs.

Not an inch of her ass is left untouched, and all she can do is cry and whimper, wail and whine, struggle and clench, and clench some more. It's a strange stimulation, and the pain bleeds into pleasure, flares up white-hot, then smooths into gentle darkness. Light, dark, slap, clench, slap, clench. He's properly fingering her now, moving his digits in and out, while the blows of his other hand become calmer, still strong and unrelenting, but spaced out more, keeping her on her toes (that hurt from how hard she's curling them in her shoes).

She wouldn't say she relaxes into it, but she finds herself lying still on his lap, legs twitching under every blow, but the rest of her body seems to give in to her fate. Her breaths are ragged through her nose, tears clouding her vision, streaming down her face, the panties in her mouth soaked in her spit. Her fingers twitch in their tight hold on her back, the leather of his belt cutting into her skin.

He gives her three more blows, on the left cheek, then the right, then onto the back of her thigh, right against the tight skin of her welts, and that last one makes her arch her back, a muffled scream stuck in her throat, her legs kicking frantically, the pain blindingly intense. For a moment she thinks she's dying, so close to finally being released into the void, but through the torment of that last blow, he pushes his fingers faster into her clenching cunt, presses his thumb against her clit, and the pleasure burst through her lower body.

She's whining into her gag, if she could have said anything she'd beg him to allow her to come (because that is what this is all about, isn't it?), and he seems to understand her struggles, when he suddenly whispers, right against her ear: “It's okay. You can come. Come for me, baby girl.”

And she does, that tight coil inside her stomach breaking free with a sudden snap, before wave after wave of pleasure crashes through her, lights like fireworks exploding behind her eyelids. Her body spasms on his lap, and she can't stop it, can't control anything anymore.

Her legs fall open, and he keeps fingering her, keeps pressing on her clit, prolongs the sensation burning through her nerves. She's whimpering, moaning, crying, head empty and full at the same time, her hips bucking, and he curls his fingers and bullies another spot, and she seems to come again, clenching around his digits as she goes stiff, then breaks out in more convulsions, and those bring a strange relief as her wetness splatters against his hand and down her trembling legs.

She's positively breathless when she goes slack on his lap, and he eases her down gently, caresses her fluttering walls, pulls his fingers out and rubs over her mound, between her puffy lips, then smooths the soft skin of her inner thigh before resting his hand on her calf.

“Well done,” he says quietly. “That was intense, hm?”

Her head is hanging limply off his leg, hair falling over it, she doesn't care, everything is spinning anyway. Being upside down only adds to it, and she wants more of it, doesn't want it to stop. Delirious in that strange space full of pain and pleasure, she barely registers how he lifts her head, pushes her hair away, his other hand on her jaw, easing it open, pulling the drenched fabric of her underwear out of her mouth. Drool follows the motion, and he wipes it away, turning her head slightly to make her face him.

Blinking her eyes into focus, she's able to see his smile, the twinkle in his eyes, a soft expression that makes her feel warm all over, even warmer than the burning skin on her butt and thighs, the echoing sensation pulsing through her core. It goes straight to her heart, and despite the state of her body, she smiles back, weakly, shyly, but genuinely, and he caresses her cheek with the back of his finger.

“Thank you,” she croaks out barely audible.

“For what?” he asks, tilting his head.

Her mind is reeling, but the words spill from her lips as if he's planted them there himself. “For... for taking the time... to correct... my m-mistakes... to p-punish me... for my... d-disobedience...”

He nods with an approving smile. “And what did you do wrong?”

Her voice is a shaking hum, her lips trembling as more words tumble over them. “I was... ungrateful... I denied you... I... came without permission... I tried to... run away...” The confession leaves her without revision, and as soon as she's done, she's stiffening, her eyes widening while his darken, the smile vanishing from his face.

“You tried to run away?” he repeats, the grip on her jaw tightening, his voice cold and stern.

“I... I didn't mean to,” she whines softly, struggling in her bend-over position, turning her shoulders and straining her neck to better look up at him. “You... you were... flirting with that woman... and I... I felt... I thought you... I... I didn't think,” she sums up her stammering. “B-but I came back!” she cries out, looking at him pleadingly, struggling against the belt around her arms. “Because I need you! I can't be... without you...”

He takes in her frantic words with a strangely calm expression. Then he clenches his jaw and she feels his hands on her waist, pulling her up and into a standing position. She wobbles on her shoes, can't seem to find her balance without being able to use her arms. He grabs her shoulders and stares down at her, towering over her menacingly.

“I appreciate your honesty,” he says quietly. “But you know what I have to do, right?”

She swallows hard, licking her dry lips. “Sp-spank me again?” she croaks out, the pain rushing back into her buttocks as her mind remembers what happened.

He shakes his head. “There are other ways to punish you, but you have to understand that you force my hand here. You did something wrong, and there have to be consequences. And I'll think of something, don't worry.”

She chews on her lip, nodding as her eyes fill with a new batch of tears. “Yes, sir,” she sniffles.

His loud exhale hits her warm cheek, then he pats it with his hand. He guides her back to the car and leans her against it, before he goes back to the fallen tree and picks up something off the ground. Shaking it out, she sees it's her soiled panties, now drenched in spit, caked with cum, and covered in dirt and pine needles. He could have left them there, she thinks, but then realizes he doesn't want to leave a trail, evidence of them being here. Of her fate.

They vanish back into the pocket of his jeans before he opens the passenger door. He considers her then, with her wild hair and reddened skin and with her arms tied behind her back. Sighing, he grabs her waist and carefully sets her down on the seat. The soft leather is cold against her burning skin, and she can't help the wince and sharp inhale when he lets go of her, her own body weight pushing her down on her bruises.

He doesn't buckle her in, though, just closes the door and walks around the car to his side, then slides behind the wheel. He pulls his seat belt down while he looks at her. She holds his gaze, even though her vision is blurry and her stomach feels tense and she just wants to curl into a ball and wallow in her sorrow, but he has other plans.

His hands are under her elbows, pulling her towards him. He makes her lie down on her stomach with her head resting on his thigh. She has to angle her legs, her shoes nudging against the window. Leaning over her, he reaches for them and pulls them off, then throws them onto the backseat, and she's grateful. They were just another thing on the long list of her aches.

He pulls her a little further until her face sits right over his groin, and she swallows and licks her lips in preparation, looking up from under her lashes. He meets her gaze, inhaling deeply.

“This is neither a reward nor a punishment,” he then says while his hands move to open his jeans and push his underwear down. “Just something for you to pass the time and me to feel good, okay?”

She nods. “Yes, sir.”

He grabs his cock, semi-hard, and guides it towards her mouth, and she opens it willingly, tongue out flat. He's warm when he pushes between her lips, his scent filling her nostrils, his taste exploding on her tongue, her body shivering slightly as saliva pools around him. He arranges her head on his thigh, pulls her a little closer until she lies on his lap properly, suckling softly on his tip, unable to move away even if she wanted to (which she doesn't). His hand is on her cheek, brushing her hair away gently.

“Try to swallow,” he tells her, and she does, it's not easy in her position and with something between her lips, her mouth unable to close, but she manages, and he pats her cheek again. “Good. Now relax, we'll be driving for a few hours.”

She hums against him, nestling into his lap, fingers twitching and tingling in their restraint, feet dangling in the air, her lips tight around his cock. It's a comfort, being so close to him, knowing he still trusts her enough to let her do this. He cares about her, she knows it, and her confessing to him that she tried to run away is probably hurting him as much as it hurts her. She should have never done that. Stupid voice of reason. Destroying everything.

She has no idea which punishment awaits her, but whatever it is, she deserves it, and she'll fight through it, to make him proud, to show him that she wants to stay with him, no matter what. She is his, and she'll make sure to remind him.

By the time they finally reach their destination, as the lights of the city rush by in a blur, she is not in a happy place, not in the subspace he wanted her to be. She kept thinking back to how she disappointed him, what she did wrong, seeing the anger and sadness in his eyes, and no matter what plan she tried to think about to make it all better, she never came to any conclusion, still doesn't know how to mend the rift between them. She thinks there's a rift, even though her lips are still closed around his cock, and his hand keeps coming down to caress her hair.

Yet it's nothing like the first time she had to cockwarm him. She may have spaced out for a bit, but always came back by herself, with her mind reminding her of everything that went wrong, showing her the faces of the various women he's flirted with, and she was in a constant up and down of rage and anger and jealousy, and hating herself and hating him and hating those women. But mostly hating herself because she feels like a failure.

She was struggling to keep the drool in her mouth, unable to wipe it away with her arms tied behind her back, and she thought back to soiling his pants and how he belted her after that (and she doesn't even know if that was the reason why it all escalated, he told her he doesn't even need a reason), and her wounds stung and burned as she remembered how she got them, and the new ones are tight and warm, and yet she's grateful he made her lie on her stomach to keep the pressure off, while also fearing he'll snap again and hurt her even more. It's all so confusing, and in all that time her cunt kept clenching, needy for the thing that was stuck in her mouth.

She's absolutely miserable when he stops the car. His hand is under her jaw, gently nudging her to open her lips, but she hums, eyebrows furrowed, not wanting to part from him just yet. She moves her head closer, pushes down on him to take him deeper, and he lets her. He's hardened significantly during their silent car ride, and she feels the need to finish the job.

It's hard to bob her head without her hands to steady herself, so it's sloppy and uncoordinated, and she could be doing this better if he hadn't tied her arms together, but this is part of her redemption, another punishment, not the last one, but it doesn't matter. It has to be done. He notices her struggle and puts his hands on her head, gently guiding her movements. She looks up from under her lashes, and seeing him so calm and patient makes her vision blur again.

She's been so ungrateful. Not a good girl. A horribly disobedient thing that shouldn't be allowed to suck his cock. She still tries her best, wraps her lips around him, presses her tongue against his bulging veins, sucks long and hard, swallows around him even though it hurts, and when he pulls her closer, his grip tightening, she tries to relax to let him into her throat. Tears mix with her drool when she gags around him, body jerking, hating herself even more for not being able to take him properly, but he doesn't seem to mind the mess this time, only moves her head up and down, bucks his hips slightly, and fucks her face until he starts groaning quietly.

She keeps her eyes closed even though she wants to see him relax under her ministrations, but she tells herself she doesn't deserve the sight. Instead she keeps sucking hard, hollowing her cheeks, fighting her gag reflex whenever he hits the back of her throat, holds her breath when he pushes deeper, forces herself to stay still, relax, and let him use her like he should be using her.

Her head is spinning when he finally comes down her throat, a low grunt escaping him as he presses her head down hard, holding her there, his cock throbbing between her lips, and she doesn't fight it, too exhausted, too tied up in her own self-pity. Slowly he pulls her head back, pats her cheek, tells her to breathe, and she does, rasping heavy breaths, before she swallows, spit and cum, and he wipes her tears away when he turns her head, caressing her jaw.

“Good girl,” he whispers hoarsely, and she sniffles, the praise tainted now, because she doesn't deserve it.

She can't remember how they end up in the elevator to his penthouse, but she's there, in his arms, sees her reflection, this tiny girl with messy hair and a flushed face and swollen lips and wet eyes, all light gone from within. Averting them, she looks at him and meets his warm gaze, soothing and comforting, and it only makes her sniffle again. His eyebrows furrow slightly, a sternness crossing his features, as if he wants to tell her to cheer up, to stop fussing, and it's enough to calm her, to stop the nagging thoughts, at least for a moment.

The ding startles her. The doors slide open, and he carries her further. She closes her eyes and leans into him, remembering how she left his apartment with almost the same mindset, miserable, thinking he'd bring her back to her old life, leave her behind, but now she knows she's staying, he'll keep her, and she should be grateful, happy, but she can't bring herself to feel that just yet.

Her eyelids flutter, and she looks around barely noticing anything. Well, until he doesn't carry her to his bedroom or the guest bedroom, but to one of the rooms he told her not to enter. He nudges the door open with his hip and turns the light on with much the same gesture, and her eyes widen.

She remembers his penthouse as dark and masculine, warm wooden floors with white walls and dark furniture, luxurious light fixtures, no clutter, barely any plants. Minimalist. The view she has now is anything but. It's colorful, a room exploding with soft hues of pinks and yellows and blues, white accents. Thick pale pink curtains cover the night view of the city, there are various plush looking rugs scattered over the hardwood floor, adding to the cozy feel.

A desk stands in the corner, looking out of one of two windows, the space filled with boxes and plastic containers that feel strangely familiar. She blinks her tears away, focuses on the rest of the room. One wall is covered in fairy lights that give off a soft glow, then there are two doors on the other side, one leading to a bathroom she can't look into, the other opening up into a large closet that's already filled with various clothes.

And then there's a big bed facing the windows, covered in throw pillows and blankets and soft looking quilts, and atop one of the pillows sits a used looking stuffed animal. Mister Wolfie. She can't help the sob when it forces its way out of her throat.

This is her room, from her old shitty apartment, her room, in his penthouse. Cluttered and cozy and filled with her stuff (well, he replaced the furniture, the desk, the chair, the bed), the stuff she had to leave behind. He even added new ones, a nice sofa and a large bookshelf, thrice as big as her old one, already filled with books, and again she recognizes the few things she had owned. He even brought the old mirror with the thick white frame that's now leaning against the wall next to the bed, showing her startled reflection.

She's crying softly, completely overwhelmed, by the time he sets her down, holding her by the shoulder as he finally takes off the belt from around her arms. Her toes sink into the soft rug, and she rubs her wrists for a moment as she looks around, still not able to process it all. He had her place brought into his, made her her own little corner.

His hand finds her wet face, and when his thumb nudges her chin, she looks up at him, biting her lip, sniffling. “What do you think?” he asks, with a soft smile on his face.

She swallows hard, blinking new tears away. “I... I don't deserve this...”

He tilts his head, frowning slightly. “Baby, listen to me,” he says and cups her face with both hands. “You do, you do deserve this. You've been such a good girl for me, you did everything I asked, and more. I couldn't wish for anyone better, okay? You made mistakes, yes, and I'll have to punish you for them, but you'll take it like you did the last one and then we'll move on, yeah? I want you to feel comfortable here, with me.”

“I do!” she croaks out quickly, furrowing her brows. “But –”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, silencing her immediately. “This is your room. You can retreat to it when I'm not here or when I have to work. I still expect you to spend the night with me, in my bed, and I will use you whenever I want, how we established, right?”

She nods into his hands. “Yes, sir.”

“You are mine,” he says and lowers his head until his nose brushes against hers. “All of you is mine. Whenever, wherever I want.” He tilts his head and presses his lips to hers, but he's gone the moment she tries to kiss him back, straightening back up to walk to one of the nightstands.

She watches him with growing curiosity, slowly going back to telling herself that this is her purpose, and it's an honor, a privilege, that he cares so much about her, enough to bring her shitty little apartment into his prestigious penthouse. It's not something she's expected, not in a million years, but she is slowly accepting that it's okay to be happy about it. No matter what'll happen next.

Yet when he returns to her, she stiffens as she stares at the item in his hands. It's a thick leather band held together by a small lock between two metal rings, with another metal ring in the back. A collar. She swallows.

“I didn't intend to give this to you just yet,” he tells her, and she looks up at him, “but I think this'll do nicely as part of your punishment.”

She's breathing heavier when she watches his long fingers fidget with the collar. The lock clicks open when he presses his thumb to it, then he pulls the leather band apart.

“Hold up your hair,” he tells her quietly, and even though her hands are shaking, she follows the order, gathers her hair and twists it into a messy bun she holds at the back of her head.

He walks behind her and snakes his hands through her arms, then she feels the soft leather pressing against her throat. He turns her to face the mirror and meets her gaze. She's so tiny and frail with him bulking behind her, his big hands still moving the collar with enough finesse. The lock clicks shut again, and the thick band sits around her neck, not too tight, but barely loose enough to maybe slip her fingers under it.

“Only I can open this lock,” he says, his finger running along the thick edge of the leather before he grabs her wrists and makes her let go of her hair, his fingers weaving through it before he puts his hands on her shoulders, leaning down a little. “This collar is a sign of my possession, you are my possession, my property, my good little girl, aren't you?”

She swallows, her throat moving against the wide leather band. “Yes, sir,” she says breathlessly.

He moves his hand along her neck, then hooks a finger into the metal ring at the front of the collar. “As your punishment, because you tried to run away from me, I will leash you,” he says, gently tugging at the collar, making her sway a little. “To this room. You can go to the bathroom, you can shower, you can sleep. You'll always have food and water. You will stay in this room until I say otherwise. I may visit you, but maybe I won't. We'll see. Gotta keep you on your little toes, right?”

He turns his head and presses his lips to her cheek, catching a tear that slipped from her eyes. He inhales deeply, watching her closely.

“No need to cry. You'll get through this, we'll get through this. You understand that this is necessary, don't you?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, licking her lips. He nods, then lets go of her and shortly leaves the room. She just stands there, on the soft rug, staring into the mirror that used to stand in her old apartment. The collar isn't too bad, but it feels heavy in a way that's important. It needs some getting used to, but she'll manage (once she stops being so overwhelmed by it all).

A sudden rattling sound makes her flinch, and she turns around to see him carrying a long chain made of thin but sturdy looking metal links. There's a ring on one end, and the same small lock that he opens with his thumbprint once more. Standing in front of her, he attaches the chain to her collar, and she feels the weight of it immediately, a gasp escaping her. He notices her reaction, raising an eyebrow.

“You'll get used to it, don't worry,” he tells her, then walks to the far wall and into the closet, pulling the clanging chain behind him until it uncoils and tugs on her, making her stumble forwards a few steps. Her hands fly up to grab it and hold it in place. It feels smooth and not as heavy as she has thought. Probably stainless steel or aluminum or something, she has no idea and frankly doesn't care. It won't change anything.

She sees him attaching the other end somewhere in the closet, before another tug runs through the long line. He glides the chain along his palm as he returns to her, smiling softly. His hands find her shoulders, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of her blouse before he pushes it off her shoulders, then opens the small buttons and the bow in the front.

A shiver runs through her when it falls to the ground. He keeps watching her as he moves his hands lower to slowly push the skirt over her hips. She steps out of it mindlessly, holding his gaze, holding her head up even though the chain drags it down a little. “Look at you, so beautiful,” he coos, turning her around once more, hands gliding up and down her sides, fingers teasing at the swell of her breasts.

The chain rests between them, the metal cool on her skin. She feels exposed but strangely confident as well. The way he looks at her makes her stomach tense and her cunt clench around nothing. He inhales deeply, wrapping one arm around her back to press her to his chest, then turns her slightly.

“Look in the mirror,” he tells her, and she does so, over her shoulder, and gasps at the sight. His free hand moves down her back and gently over the bright red skin of her ass cheeks. The bruises bleed into the still reddened welts on her thighs. “You've taken your last punishment so well, you can take this too. I'd prefer it if I wouldn't have to punish you at all, but I'm sure you'll learn your lesson. You already did, didn't you?”

She nods, biting her lip. “And I'm sorry,” she whispers.

“I know you are,” he replies and nuzzles his nose into the soft skin behind her ear. “And you'll be a good girl and make me proud, won't you?”

“Yes, sir,” she breathes, closing her eyes as her breath quickens.

“Good,” he says and leans back abruptly, his hand smacking hard against her rear, making her cry out in pain, tears burning in her eyes. He steps away and picks up her clothes. “Now get some rest, maybe take a shower. You will remain like this, understood? No clothes, even if your closet is full of them. This is part of your punishment.”

She swallows, the collar seemingly tightening. Her lungs burn. “Yes...”

He watches her, then looks around the room once more. “I don't care how you pass the time, read or –” He waves his hand over the boxes on the desk. “Do some arts and crafts or whatever you did with these things.”

She licks her lips, wants to smirk at his words, but she feels too empty, the weight of her new situation pulling her down like the chain does the collar. She carefully sits down on the edge of the bed, breathing through the sting of her skin against the cool material of the quilt, and mindlessly moves the chain links through her hands.

“I have one condition, though,” he continues, oblivious to her struggles. “If I catch you with your fingers in your cunt, I will have to think of yet another punishment. Unless I give you a toy to play with, you will refrain from touching yourself, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, almost automatically, not even having the desire to do what he suggests. If there is one desire burning within her, it's to be in his arms, to feel his warmth, his strength, his dominance, (his cock in her cunt), but it sounds as if he's going to leave her for a bit, and that might just be the worst punishment.

She notices how he looks up into one corner of the room, and she frowns at the sight. It's hidden, but it's obvious: a little dome made of dark glass, a camera mounted to the ceiling. And even though she should be appalled by it, it makes her feel a little better. If he's willing to keep an eye on her when he isn't here, then that's better than him forgetting about her completely.

When he takes a step towards the door, she jumps up quickly, the chain rattling quietly. He stops, looking at her, his eyebrows rising up when she falls to her knees in front of him. Her hands itch to reach out to him, but she keeps them on her thighs, clenched into fists, and looks up at him.

This is my purpose, she reminds herself, my place, on my knees in front of him. He may do with her whatever he wants, but she wants this too, if not for herself, she wants it for him, to make him happy and proud. And she's grateful to be given so many chances. She truly is. Her mind is still reeling, trying to process everything that's happening, but when the words finally make it out of her mouth, she just lets them spill.

“Thank you, sir,” she says quietly, blinking away tears as she focuses on his face and his face alone. Nothing else matters. “For doing this, for this... my room, for your... patience with me... for... everything...”

The corner of his lips twitches when he reaches his hand out to touch her face, fingers slipping into her hair, thumb brushing against her bottom lip. She parts her lips, and he watches her for a moment, before pushing his thumb into her mouth, pressing hard onto her tongue. She closes her lips around his digit tentatively, giving it a gentle suck, the motion calming her instantly, her mind going quieter until he is all there is. Only him.

“My good little girl,” he coos, slowly moving his thumb back and forth between her tight lips, pushing deeper. “Welcome home, darling,” he adds, and she closes her eyes, fighting new tears that come for a completely different reason now. A familiar heat settles in her stomach and much lower. That traitorous itch flaring up all over again.

And she knows, she will do absolutely anything to be praised, to be his good girl, to make him happy. Even if it means wearing a collar and a leash, answering to his every whim. This is her purpose after all.

NINETEEN 🟥 TWENTY

End notes: And there we go: our dear Darling is collared and leashed, fully submitting. Or is she? Well... her story isn't over yet. I am working on Season Three, so there will be at least ten more chapters. Soon.

I am taking an uploading break though as I visit my family over the holidays. Stay tuned for 2025 I guess :D

Thank you for reading and joining me on this wild adventure.

This started as a smut story, a dumping ground for my darker, kinkier ideas, but then the characters developed and plot was added and there was angst and confusion and drama and feelings? It's now so much more than just smut (even though every single chapter has at least one smut scene in it, wow what a feat...), and I hope to bring Sir and Darling's story to a proper end eventually.

See you soon!

TAG LIST: @untamedheart81 @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾️SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN TWENTY

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

[wlwcatalogue]

Yuri Subtext (?) Anime List

A supplement to my earlier yuri anime masterlist, this list covers anime which aren’t marketed as yuri but which prominently feature F/F pairs, whether canonical or subtext! Since subtext is so subjective, this post only includes series which I’ve actually watched, and so is by no means intended to be comprehensive.

Also, since the above description would not cover certain series with well-known yuri pairings, I've also included a few "bonus rounds" for the curious (although these are still limited to series I have watched).

At-a-glance list:

Revolutionary Girl Utena (39 episodes + 1 movie, 1997)

NOIR (26 episodes, 2001)

Puella Magi Madoka Magica (12 episodes, 2011)

Haibane Renmei (13 episodes, 2002)

.hack//SIGN (26 episodes, 2002)

Read or Die / R.O.D. the TV (26 episodes, 2003)

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch From Mercury (24 episodes, 2022)

Black Rock Shooter (8 episodes, 2010)

Izetta: The Last Witch (12 episodes, 2016)

Violet Evergarden: Eternity and the Auto Memory Doll (movie, 2019)

Canaan (13 episodes, 2009)

Ga-Rei: Zero (12 episodes, 2008)

Bonus rounds:

Sailor Moon S3 (38 episodes, 1994) (subtext)

Mai-Hime (26 episodes, 2004) (canon)

Psycho-Pass (41 episodes + 3 movies, 2012) (canon)

My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! (24 episodes + movie, 2020) (canon)

Summaries under the cut!

1. Revolutionary Girl Utena (39 episodes + 1 movie, 1997) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

(Copied from the Yuri Anime Masterlist post, since technically it wasn’t marketed as yuri)

When she was a child, Tenjou Utena (Kawakami Tomoko) was saved by a passerby prince, so she decided that she too wanted to become a prince as an adult. Fast forward to high school, and she hasn’t forgotten that conviction: Utena gets sucked into a series of duels while trying to protect her best friend’s honour. After winning the first duel, she becomes ‘engaged’ to the eccentric “Rose Bride” Himemiya Anthy (Fuchizaki Yuriko), and the two start living together in the same dormitory.

First things first: there are a million content warnings for this series, including implied rape, sexual assault, incest, and homophobia. Although the issues are handled well (in my opinion), it does go to very dark places, so those wanting a light, fun anime to unwind to should look elsewhere. Second, this series is very much a psychological drama utilising the episodic duels as a way of hone in on Utena’s opponents and their stories, so Utena and Anthy’s relationship – though important – is definitely not the focus of the anime. Third, the TV series is limited to hinting at the romantic relationship between Utena and Anthy, not to mention that they spend most of the series being little more than acquaintances rather than actual friends. The movie Adolescence (which can be taken as a retelling or sequel, depending on your perspective) is much more explicit on this front, but also suffers from a significantly shorter runtime and a much more opaque approach to storytelling.

That being said! If you’re okay with all of the above, this series is pretty much essential. The simplistic premise belies a much more complex and nuanced story about gender roles, sexuality, and human relationships and remains one of the smartest anime ever made, over twenty years on.

2. NOIR (26 episodes, 2001) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

The first in anime studio Bee Train’s “girls with guns” trilogy, NOIR follows globetrotting assassin duo Mireille Bouquet (Mitsuishi Kotono) and Yuumura Kirika (Kuwashima Houko) as they partner up to search for Kirika’s missing memories and the truth behind Mireille’s parents’ deaths. The series is pleasingly restrained despite the sensational premise, alternating between “business trips” to far-flung locations and snapshots of the pair’s domestic life in Mireille’s Paris apartment, and devoting more time to the unfolding of the relationship between the prickly Mireille and puppy-like Kirika than to action sequences. I won't say too much due to spoilers, but their relationship numbers among my favorites due to how naturally it is developed throughout and how it is very much at the heart of the series both narratively and thematically.

This is also the first anime soundtrack entirely composed by the legendary Kajiura Yuki, heralding a long collaboration with director Mashimo Kouichi, and her mix of classical and modern sounds provides the perfect accompaniment to NOIR’s atmospheric cityscapes. Also, for fans of Mitsuishi’s work (Sailor Moon! Utena! Evangelion!), I’d say NOIR is a must-watch for her performance alone; her Mireille is brittle and proud, and she brings so much humanity and nuance to the role. In fact, I don’t care if you’re a fan of Mitsuishi or Kajiura or assassins or whatever, please just try the first episode— this anime deserves way more love!

3. Puella Magi Madoka Magica (12 episodes, 2011) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

Puella Magi Madoka Magica opens with ordinary middle school girl Kaname Madoka (Yuuki Aoi) standing in the ruins of her hometown, watching as a lone girl struggles to defend what remains of the city against a much more powerful enemy. A little rabbit-like creature informs Madoka that the girl is sure to lose without her help, and so Madoka decides to become a magical girl right then and there— at which point she wakes up and dismisses it as a strange nightmare. But then that very day, her school receives a new transfer student who looks just like that mysterious girl, and she also finds a hurt animal that closely resembles the rabbit-like creature from her dream. Madoka is then faced with certain questions: do magical girls actually exist, and will she become one herself?

Since Madoka Magica was all the rage back in the early 2010s, I don’t think it too much of a spoiler to say that the cheery first three episodes hide a dark, gritty story which uses the concept of magical girls to explore the tumultuousness of adolescence. The queer subtext only comes in at the end but tight plotting and inventive presentation make this show a quick watch— and if you’re the type who likes queerness in fiction to be intense, world-shakingly significant, and a wee bit problematic, the payoff should be more than enough. A word of warning: there is a movie sequel called Rebellion, but if you’re happy with the ending of the anime, it’s best not to watch it (although I love the movie, myself).

Side note: I won’t go into it too much due to spoilers but if you liked Madoka Magica you might want to check out Serial Experiments Lain – even if most of it is utterly incomprehensible (as it was to me), it’s worth watching until the very end (wink). Also, for the rare fan of Rebellion, Adolescence of Utena is a must-watch if you haven’t checked it out already; so much can be said about its conceptual and aesthetic influences on Rebellion!

4. Haibane Renmei (13 episodes, 2002) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

(Note: slight spoilers about the tone and overall themes of the show – but I think it’s necessary for the purpose of writing a more representative summary.)

Written by ABe Yoshitoshi – character designer of cult classic anime Serial Experiments Lain and author of the very unfinished manga which this show adapts and significantly develops – Haibane Renmei starts off as a light-fantasy slice-of-life anime following freshly-arrived Rakka (Hirohashi Ryou) as she searches for a suitable job in the town of Glie, before transforming into a nuanced exploration of grief and depression about halfway through. To say more would be really too spoilery, but I just want to say that this has probably the most grounded and sensitive depiction of depression I have seen in an anime; it shows that sometimes people struggle even if everyone around them is kind and supportive, but remains hopeful about the healing power of time and understanding. The subtext is between the protagonist and Reki (Noda Junko), the first person she meets, who also helps her get acclimatised to her new life in Glie. Again, I won’t say more, but their relationship really is wonderful. That being said, this show does touch upon suicide and suicidal ideation in the course of discussing these themes, so please steer clear if that is something you are wary of.

5. .hack//SIGN (26 episodes, 2002) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

A standalone spinoff of the .hack PS2 games, this show was the most well-known anime about players getting trapped inside a multiplayer game before Sword Art Online’s arrival in 2012 (ironically, Kajiura Yuki composed the music for both). Rather than being an action-adventure story about a heroic protagonist trying to find a way back to the real world, SIGN stands out as an introspective piece, far more interested in the psychology of those who play online games and the issues of human connection and identity. In fact, the female protagonist is all too happy to remain within the MMORPG as male player-avatar Tsukasa (Saiga Mitsuki) after becoming unable to log out; the story is more about how the player grows to accept the real world with the help of the other players she meets, rather than about figuring out the exit route.

On the F/F side, some way into the series, Tsukasa makes an instant connection with fellow player-character Subaru (Nazuka Kaori) and they soon start spending a lot of time together. I really love their scenes together; the series' masterful use of body language, framing, and music all comes together to create these beautifully tender moments of intimacy. Although there’s no kiss scene nor explicit discussion of dating etc., a lot of the other characters talk about their relationship and perceive it as being romantic, to the point where one gets homophobically “worried” about Subaru when they find out that the player controlling male avatar Tsukasa is female. Tsukasa and Subaru's relationship becomes a lynchpin for both characters' development, and in general is used to illustrate the series' underlying themes in a thoughtful and heartwarming way.

6. Read or Die / R.O.D. the TV (26 episodes, 2003) Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

A spinoff of the Read or Die series which takes more from espionage thrillers and Hong Kong action flicks than shounen anime, R.O.D. the TV takes the unusual approach of starting with its main character - elite paper-maniuplating superspy Yomiko Readman (Miura Rieko) - being nowhere to be seen after burning down the British Library in a dramatic resignation announcement. Instead of focusing on her, or the spy agencies clashing in her absence, the story instead follows her friend Sumiregawa Nenene (Yukino Satsuki), who joins up with a trio of sisters with paper-manipulating powers and criminal connections in her quest to find out what happened to Yomiko. The queerness is mainly implied through Nenene's focus on Yomiko, which is unrequited and sadly fizzles out narratively speaking in the back half. Unfortunately, this is coupled with an increased focus on more heteronormative topics, such as Yomiko's grief over her dead male lover, and the child one of the characters had with the villain of the OVA. That being said, I also want to shout out this series' surprisingly earnest depiction of budding queerness in a young (like, elementary-school young) side character - something that is rare in fiction even now.

7. Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury (24 episodes, 2022) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

The most recent entry on this list by far (the final episode aired just a day ago at time of writing), The Witch from Mercury initially seems to forgo the Gundam franchise’s usual grand scale, being set in an academy run by the corporate giant Benerit Group. Main character and new student Suletta Mercury (Ichinose Kana) - the franchise’s first female protagonist since its beginnings in 1979 - accidentally bumbles her way into fighting a mecha duel, and, when she wins, is shocked to find that she is now engaged to the sole heiress of that self-same corporate giant, her classmate Miorine Rembran (Lynn). So far so Utena, but after the first episode, things start to diverge significantly: though the duels continue, the focus shifts to how big-picture tensions such as the manoeuvring within the Benerit Group and the conflict between the space colonisers and people on Earth play out within the student body, and how the arrival of Suletta and her mysteriously cutting-edge mecha start to shake up the status quo… until things come to an explosive head.

For those who curious about G-Witch due to Suletta and Miorine, but who wouldn’t normally be interested in Gundam or space operas, I’ll just say that if the hype has led you to expect a big queer romance where Suletta and Miorine shout their love from the rooftops, well, that’s not how it goes. It’s a mecha anime first and foremost, after all! But lower your expectations and you may be pleasantly surprised. Season 1 offers plenty to enjoy in terms of Suletta’s earnest attempts to be a good “bridegroom” and the tsundere Miorine’s bouts of jealousy over Suletta. And while their relationship takes a bit of a back seat in Season 2 due to there being So Much going on, it remains one of the key elements of the series and their scenes together are the emotional peaks of the season.

Side note: Some might criticise Gundam for taking so long to have a female main character, but let’s not forget about how the even older Ultraman (1966), Kamen Rider (1971), and Super Sentai (1975) franchises still have not had a single mainline series featuring a female protagonist… Come on guys, I’m dying for a female-led Kamen Rider over here!

8. Black Rock Shooter (8 episodes, 2010) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

One of the two anime inspired by the Hatsune Miku song of the same name, this Okada Mari-penned series hones in on the passionate friendships and jealousies of a group of middle-school girls. In a twist that feels informed by the psychological allegory of the popular Persona games, this interpersonal drama plays out in the surreal battle world of the music video, with the titular Black Rock Shooter being the main character’s alter-ego. Of particular interest is the first half’s focus on the blossoming friendship between protagonist Kuroi Mato (Hanazawa Kana) and her shy classmate Takanashi Yomi (Sawashiro Miyuki), which has strong overtones of two girls developing crushes on each other – it doesn’t go smoothly, but hey, that’s life.

9. Izetta: The Last Witch (12 episodes, 2016) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

Set during what is basically World War 2, Izetta: The Last Witch asks the daring question of “What if a small European country about to be invaded by alternate-history Nazi Germany could fight back with magic… and what if it was (subtextually) yuri?” The show follows politically-minded princess Finé as she and her best friend (read: girlfriend) Izetta think up ways to leverage the latter’s witchy gifts to save the country from invasion – a rare case of a military anime where female characters are significantly involved at the strategic stage. Those who enjoy the classic princess-and-knight trope may find something to like as long as they are fine with Finé and Izetta not having much relationship development (as their dynamic is established from the start) and them not having many one-on-one scenes together (as the series’ main focus is on the political manoeuvring). Note that this show is also pretty heavy on the fanservice – IIRC there was at least one moment of egregious sexualisation per episode.

Side note: those who like Izetta may also want to check out Last Exile: Fam, the Silver Wing, a female-focused dieselpunk anime with a lot of military strategizing and a very cool world setting, though Izetta is better-paced and the main relationship is much more plot-significant. (That being said I do like the relationship between Fam side characters Tatiana and Alistair… Tatiana is probably the adult character with the most screentime in Fam, being the main characters’ commanding officer, and although it’s very background, she has this cutely settled dynamic with former piloting partner turned wife right-hand woman Alistair.)

10. Violet Evergarden: Eternity and the Auto Memory Doll (movie, 2019) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

(Note: this entry’s a slightly weird one, it only covers the first 40 minutes of this movie due to it being basically two episodic stories smushed together into a single package, and only the earlier story is relevant to this list.)

In this standalone spinoff of the Violet Evergarden anime series – itself an adaptation of the light novel series by Akatsuki Kana – the titular protagonist Violet (Ishikawa Yui) takes a break from ghostwriting letters to serve as companion to aloof young noblewoman Isabella York (Kotobuki Minako) in her last months of finishing school. The story is a quiet coming-of-age tale focusing on how the kind (and rather dashing!) Violet helps Isabella to open up, or, in simpler terms, it’s fodder for butler-and-lady fans. Don’t get your hopes up too much, though: Violet learning about her romantic feelings for her deceased male superior is one of the main throughlines of the anime, and this (half of the) movie also ends with a heterosexual arranged marriage for Isabella. That being said, this movie is really a feast for the eyes, its historical-fantasy setting being brought out with beautiful backgrounds and detailed linework, so it’s worth checking out if you don’t mind the very Class S narrative.

Side note: if you want F/F butler-and-lady or princess-and-knight vibes I would really recommend watching Fate/Zero for Saber and Irisviel – yes Irisviel is already married to one of the (male) main characters and yes Saber is absolutely the main love interest for the famously-straight Fate/stay night, but their dynamic is really good and Saber gets to wear a stylish suit and be all chivalrous to a woman… Please watch the third episode of season 1 at least…

11. Canaan (13 episodes, 2009) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

There’s quite a lot going on in Canaan – perhaps unsurprisingly so for a spinoff of the FMV visual novel 428: Shibuya Scramble, which is famous for its intertwined storylines – but in true action-movie blockbuster style, all you really need to know is that the titular mercenary Canaan (Sawashiro Miyuki) is on a hunt for her mentor’s protégé-turned-murderer, and a lot of flashy fighting is involved. Also, there's no need to worry if you haven't played the original game, as Canaan is pretty much a standalone work and all of the significant characters are original to the anime. Yuri-minded viewers may enjoy her clashes with the villain Alphard (Sakamoto Maaya), but the main source of F/F subtext is her relationship with the young photographer Maria (Nanjo Yoshino), for whom she cares deeply and must rescue on multiple occasions. However, do be warned that the one canonically queer character in the show – Alphard’s subordinate Liang Qi (Tanaka Rie), who is fixated on her boss – is handled very badly, being portrayed as a raving predatory lesbian who is mocked, rejected, and finally killed by the object of her affections. Canaan and Maria’s relationship is also framed very definitively as friendship by the end of the series, although they don’t get paired off with male characters. IIRC there’s also some fanservice but I can’t remember the details as it was a long time ago, sorry.

12. Ga-Rei: Zero (12 episodes, 2008) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

Back in the old days, I had heard this show talked about in the same breath as yuri classics such as Kannazuki no Miko and Mai-Hime, and, well, like those series it comes with significant caveats (though thankfully there is no sexual assault). Although it’s a prequel to the Ga-Rei manga by Segawa Hajime, the anime is basically standalone and focuses on original characters Kagura (Chihara Minori) and Yomi (Mizuhara Kaoru), the latter of whom welcomes protagonist Kagura into her family and demon-hunting squad, only to leave the team in a devastating betrayal. After the explosive opening, the series jumps back to explore the events leading up to that point; fans of director Aoki Ei’s work on Fate/Zero should note that the dark tone disappears in the third episode and never quite comes back even when things get serious. Viewers should also keep their F/F expectations in check, since despite the premise I would say the series is more plot- than character-focused, and on top of that a significant amount of time is devoted to Yomi’s relationship with her male fiancé (Yomi and Kagura have more screentime together, but there’s not much development whereas Yomi and her fiancé are given a whole romantic arc). There is one very fanservicey scene between Kagura and Yomi in a car early on (in episode 3?) which viewers may want to skip, but IIRC it’s an outlier and the rest of the series is nowhere near as bad.

Bonus Rounds

1. Sailor Moon S / Season 3 (38 episodes, 1994) (subtext) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

Possibly the most widely-known F/F couple in anime, Haruka and Michiru (Ogata Megumi and Katsuki Masako, respectively), make their first appearance in episode 3 of the third season as mysterious newcomers who refuse to work alongside the Sailor Senshi. Apart from being consistently framed as an ideal couple throughout (they practically cruise to victory in a couple’s contest in episode 5 of S3), they also get some juicy narrative moments, being the main subject of the excellent episodes 17 and 21 – the latter being the mid-season climax. They return in S5 but I haven’t watched that season yet.

Side note: Utena fans may be particularly interested to hear that the aforementioned Haruka-and-Michiru-centric episodes 17 and 21 are helmed by key Utena creatives. Both were written by Enokido Yoji, Utena's lead scriptwriter, while episode 17 was directed by Igarashi Takuya (who storyboarded 5 Utena episodes) and episode 21 was directed by Utena director Ikuhara Kunihiko himself.

2. Mai-Hime (26 episodes, 2004) (canon) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

Way back when, Mai-Hime was very popular among yuri fans for including a canonically queer female character who was in love with another female character… even though, like in Kannazuki no Miko which was broadcast the same year, she commits sexual assault against her. For those still curious, Mai-Hime starts out as a quirky fighting-monsters-and-going to school anime but turns into a battle royale where characters fight each other using robots – the twist being that the robots symbolise their love for the person most precious to them, and if destroyed, that person will die. The queer storyline comes in only in the last quarter or so, but is compellingly told and at least the queer character isn’t quite as maniacal or otherwise demonised compared to some others (looking at you, Liang Qi in Canaan). It's a fun reveal, so I won't spoil it here even if you're likely to have heard of it already.

3. Psycho-Pass (41 episodes + 3 movies, 2012) (canon) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

Psycho-Pass is set in a dystopian world where people are rated on their criminal tendencies; the main characters’ job as police officers is to arrest those whose tendencies exceed a certain level. The F/F is canon but very, very background; one of the surprise twists of the finale is that forensics expert Karanomori Shion (Sawashiro Miyuki), whose appearance screams “sexy doctor character” but is played with surprising warmth by Sawashiro, is actually in a relationship with seemingly aloof field officer Kunizuka Yayoi (Itou Shizuka). I only watched the first season and so can’t comment on the rest, but apparently they are still in a relationship in the third season.

4. My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! (24 episodes + movie, 2020) (canon) - Anime News Network | MyAnimeList

An adaptation of Yamaguchi Satoru’s popular light novel series, this show headed the wave of reincarnated-villainess isekai, focusing on the bumbling Catarina Claes (Uchida Maaya) – in actuality an otaku who has been reincarnated into an otome game – as she tries desperately to remove her character’s image as a villainess and thereby inadvertently attracts the attentions of many a suitor. Among this reverse harem are three female characters Maria Campbell (Hayami Saori), Mary Hunt (Okasaki Miho), and Sophia Ascart (Minase Inori).

While the female suitors’ romantic interest in Catarina is generally not undermined or played as a joke, they are not necessarily treated as equally valid options compared to the male suitors - it doesn't feel like Catarina has a real chance of ending up with any of the female characters. I've heard this starts becoming more obvious in S2 (which I haven't watched), which apparently focuses on Catarina's relationship development with one particular male suitor compared to the others. Also, the VN spinoff had 6 routes in total (all 4 male suitors + 2 original male characters) but did not include a single female route, despite being non-canon in nature.

[seeingivy]

the met gala

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: the end contains some possibly triggering content. toxic man moment/unsafe situation so dni and protect ur peace if you need to.

an: fan service to the highest t. you want laufey? i'l give you laufey. you want sukuna? ill give you sukuna. did you ask for catoru gojo? no but i'll give it to you anyways. and the end is a nice yummy lil eren little fdklsfjdksljfkdlsjfkdsjk. also I changed real life met gala lore idgaf if they don't do real perfomances there bc they do now

songs mentioned: death of a bachelor by panic at the disco, seven by taylor swift, promise by laufey, and dorothea by taylor swift

previous part linked here

--

Eren waits for it in nervous anticipation. Because despite everything Hyla and Lana say, he knows for a fact that you won’t be staying silent. That Danny and Sareen wouldn’t let this slide and neither would you. 

And it eats at him while he waits for the real response, beyond that video Connie posted of you, Mikasa, Connie, and Jean dancing to Girlfriend and your tweets about how much you loved the song. 

He’s positive that a forty second video can’t be all you’re doing. People loved it and thought it was funny. But surely that can’t be it. 

“I can’t believe all your friends sided with her. I thought you were close with Connie.” Lana mentions. 

“I was. Before you did that.” Eren responds, clenching his jaw. He can feel anger surging through his blood, every minuscule fraction of frustration building even more - like it had been for the past three days since the awards show. 

It's irritating how quick things crumble down. He figures this is what Sukuna was talking about. Because the last time he talked to Connie was when Mikasa called him and it was nothing short of irritating. 

Eren’s phone rings in the middle of the night and he’s nearly scrambling out of his bed because he thinks it’s you. Nine hours after the awards show and you’ve finally gotten the chance to respond.

Except he sees Mikasa’s name flashing across the screen, accompanied with her contact picture which is you and Mikasa sleeping.

“Mika? What’s wrong?” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you Eren?” 

“Mikasa. Okay, I can ex-” 

“You can explain? You can explain why you just humiliated Y/N in public? Are you serious?” 

“I-I know it’s bad and she hasn’t picked up my calls and-” 

“Eren. Is there something wrong with you? Because I don’t even recognize you right now. You would never do something like this, let alone to her of all people.” 

“Did you just call me to yell at me Mikasa? You don’t think I feel bad enough about it already? You don’t think I would have stopped it if I had any idea it was going to happen?” 

He hears the line get quieter and Mikasa murmuring over the phone, only to be met with Connie talking to him now. 

“Hi Eren. It’s Connie.” 

Eren sighs, the fact that Mikasa’s so put off she won’t even talk to him sitting wrong with him all together. 

“Hi Con.” 

“You okay, man?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, is she okay?” 

“Mika? You know her, she gets mad so fast and-” 

“Not her.” Eren whispers. 

“Oh. No, no that’s why we called. She won’t talk to any of us. We called to see if you would know what to do because we’re coming short on ideas.” 

The words die on Eren’s tongue. The first line of defense when you get like this is always him, because he can always get you to talk. 

Could always get you to talk. 

“You tried Levi?” 

“Yes.” 

“Her brothers. You need to fly Falco and Colt out now. I’ll pay for the tickets. Get the shin ramen from the store, it’s her comfort food - put half of the spice packet in because she can’t eat it too spicy, make sure you boil the egg for six minutes because she likes it when it’s still a little runny, and chop ONLY carrots and green onions for the vegetables. And put on Spy Family, it’s her favorite show. Her favorite episode is nine, I think. It’s called Show Off How In Love You Are. ” 

“Okay, that’s all great man. Really. Thanks.” 

“Connie?” 

“Yeah?” 

The thought crosses his mind so fast and suddenly he's asking it.

“Do you hate me?” Eren asks, the whisper in his voice sounding so pitiful that he’s almost embarrassed. 

“No, Eren. I could never. Just, I have to be here because she needs us right now. You get that.” 

“No, no I do. Take care of her, please. Tell me how it goes.” 

“Yeah man. Sure.” 

Connie hangs up and the guilt eats at Eren. 

Eren hears the resounding pounding of footsteps - only to be met with Myka, Hyla, and two other people he’s literally never seen before - standing in his bedroom. 

The first thing he learned quickly about filming with these people? They have no concept of personal space or time. 

“What?” 

“Ricky and Y/N. They made a music video. Put it on.” Myka states, the group of them crawling onto Eren’s bed as he starts pulling up the video. 

The thumbnail already has him sick to his stomach. It’s you kissing Ricky’s cheek. The video starts with you and Ricky’s hands, playing the piano together, and it takes Eren all but three seconds to realize that this is the horrible, gut-wrenching response he was waiting for. 

His first cue? Not only are the two of you playing the piano together, but you and Ricky are wearing matching, beaded bracelets with each other’s names on them. Like the ones you and Eren have, the one he keeps on him at all times. 

The camera pans up to the two of you and Ricky starts singing, which earns him a nice list of profanities from Lana at his side. 

Do I look lonely? I see the shadows on my face People have told me I don't look the same Maybe I lost weight I'm playing hooky with the best of the best Put my heart on my chest so that you can see it, too I'm walking the long road, watching the sky fall The lace in your dress tangles my neck, how do I live?

His second cue? The dress you’re wearing in the video, the one with the lace, is one he knows all too well. 

“Okay so, Eren. I have to find a dress to wear for the album premiere tomorrow. And it's my first album and it's special and I want it to be perfect. Something kind of soft and casual, since it’s just going to be just fans. Can you help me pick?” 

Eren nods as he flops back onto the soft plush of your bed, eyes focused on all the little pictures and knick knacks littered over the walls of your childhood bedroom. Participation awards for sports, signed letters from your teachers, and pictures of you and Colt doing karaoke. 

“Ew, Eren. Don’t look at those.” 

“What do you mean? You were such a cute baby.” 

Eren hopes your kids don’t inherit your messy hair genes as you walk up to his side and look at the picture - of you and Colt with little pink microphones in your hand and the little plastic crown on your head. 

“You know, you still do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Everyone else holds the microphone at the top, their fingers nearly wrapped around the wire. You’re like the only person I know who holds it at the bottom - like you’re doing in the picture.” 

You roll your eyes as you gesture to the dress, asking for his opinion. Eren stands up, grabbing you by the wrist, to spin you around in the air. And he loves the sound of your laugh and how you berate him immediately after. 

“Eren. Be serious. What do you think?” 

“Perfect. Wear this one.” 

“But it’s black - it doesn’t really fit the vibe that I wanted to go with.” 

“Good point. No one should see you in this but me. Try another one on.” Eren states, placing a kiss on your neck before walking over to your bookshelf. 

"You're no help." you whine.

"I'm biased. You look good in everything, sweetheart."

He’s running his hands against the spines of your books, clearly bent and broken from reading them so much as you try on the next dress. 

“Love?” 

“Hm?” your voice comes out, all muffled from the sound of the closet door. 

“How many times have you read the Goblet of Fire? This spine is demolished.” 

He feels your limbs wrap around his neck and a kiss on his cheek as you lazily murmur into his skin. 

“Lots. Cedric Diggory was my first love.” 

“Oh? Really?” 

Eren turns around and makes it a point to pointedly glare at you, which you return with the sweetest, cheesiest of smiles as you tease him on. 

“Oh, of course. I’ve always had a thing for Hufflepuffs.” 

“Would you look at that? I’m a Hufflepuff too.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re a Ravenclaw, Eren.” 

“I was expecting you to say Slytherin.” 

“No, I feel like that’s a cop-out answer. You’re intelligent, creative, and clever. Ravenclaw.” 

Eren smiles as he brings his hands down to your wrists again, spinning you in the air again. He brings his hands up to your hair to tuck your hair behind your ears before responding. 

“Nope. Very pretty, but too formal for something small like this.” 

“I appreciate the honesty this time, mon chéri. I only have one more, so it better be the one.” 

Eren leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“What was that for?” 

“I love it when you speak French to me.” he whispers. 

Eren watches you roll your eyes as you disappear into your closet again. He settles into the seat at your desk, flipping through the song lyrics in your bound notebook.

And he doesn’t miss the polaroids you have taped into certain pages - the one of the two of you at the vow renewal on your invisible string page and one of him at the piano on the New Year’s Day page. 

“Okay, Eren. Good?” 

Eren turns around to find you shyly smiling at him, hands tucked behind your back. It’s a soft white dress, with a lace neckline. Eren thinks it makes you look like an angel. He makes it a point to stand up just so he can push you onto the bed behind you and lean right over you. 

“Eren.” 

He leans forward and starts peppering kisses all over your cheeks and your face, leaving longer lingering ones in your neck that leave you in a fit of nervous giggles and saying his name so softly it only sets him off more. 

“It should be illegal-” 

Kiss. 

“To look like this.” 

Kiss. 

“You’re doing this on purpose.” 

Kiss. 

“Doing what?” 

“Trying to drive me crazy, love.” 

“Am not, Eren. It’s just a dress.” 

“It’s never just a dress with you. Be serious, Y/N.” 

He watches your eyes go wide, a soft pink dusting your cheeks. Your hands are resting on his face and he swears they’re shaking, your arms trembling along with them. Eren brings his hand to your cheek, softly brushing across the skin once. 

“Hey. What is it?” he whispers. 

“You said my name.” 

“I say your name all the time.” 

“No, no. You always call me love or sweetheart.” 

“Do you like it when I say your name, Y/N?” 

He watches the blush spread across your cheeks again as you nod, the sweetest smile on your face. 

“I like how you say it. Y/N.” 

“I love your name. Though, it’s missing something.” 

He watches you frown, the confused look spreading across your face. 

“What’s that?” 

“My last name at the end.” he responds, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“Ew, Eren. That was so corny.” 

He brings his hands down to the side of your dress, where the zipper lies and starts pulling down. He watches the shock spread on your face, immediately pulling back. 

“Are you crazy? Falco and Colt are still here even if my parents aren’t.” 

“Falco is sleeping over across the street. And Colt is definitely at a party and pretending not to be. Who takes limes and salt to a study session? He definitely needs those for the drinks, silly girl.” he responds, sliding the dress off your shoulders and burying his face in the crook of your neck, leaving lazy kisses all over your skin. 

“Eren.” 

“Hm?” 

“Chelseaiswatching.” you murmur. 

“Huh?” 

“Chelsea is watching.” you whisper.

“Who the fuck is Chelsea?” he asks, the panic laced in his voice. 

You point over his shoulder and he immediately rolls his eyes when he sees her, bringing his hands up to pinch your cheeks. 

“Are you being serious? You can’t kiss me back because your stuffed animal is watching?” 

“Eren. It’s weird, I’ve had her since I was a kid. And my dad bought her for me.” you whine. 

“And you think she’s going to narc on you?” 

“No. It’s the principle, Eren! Don’t do inappropriate things when kids or kid-like things are present.” 

Eren stands up, making it a point to pick up your stuffed animal and bury it in the back of your closet before he returns, hands on his hips. 

“Okay. Anything else? Do I need to put tape over your posters of Loid Forger doesn’t watch us doing it?” 

“Now that you say it, it’s actually-” 

“Too bad.” 

And well after being tangled in the sheets together, Eren pretends not to be offended when you pull on a hoodie and immediately get out of bed and reach for your notebook and your pen instead of cuddling with him after. 

You crawl back in the bed next to him, where he immediately rests his head in your lap and starts groaning. You reach forward to push the messy hair out of his face and make a mental note to cover up the purple skin on his neck later so Colt doesn’t hang you at the cross whenever he comes back. 

“Did I get you that inspired that you can’t hold me right now?” 

“Basically. You’re my muse, Eren.” 

“What’s the song called, Y/N?” 

“Dress.” 

“Clever. I wonder what it’s about.” he responds, pressing kisses along your thigh, consecutively going higher with each kiss. 

“Eren. Are you serious? It’s only been like ten minutes.” you respond, the nervous jittery feeling growing in your stomach. 

“It’s like vitamins. Can’t go without it.” 

“Do not refer to it as vitamins. And you can technically go without vitamins, if you’re like really healthy.” 

“Quit being a know-it-all. You know I meant like medicine.” 

“Eren.” you respond, a warning tone in your voice as you keep scribbling your lyrics out. 

“You get two minutes to finish what you’re writing and then I’m throwing that book out the window.” he responds, his breath on the inside of your legs tickling you. 

Eren knows you’re trying to drive him crazy and not in the way he likes. And it’s working. And Ricky’s all too agitating singing voice doesn’t make it any better. 

The death of a bachelor Oh oh Seems so fitting for Happily ever after (woo) How could I ask for more? A lifetime of laughter At the expense of the death of a bachelor

Eren watches you and Ricky dancing through the streets, while Ricky sings on and on about happily ever after, and he can’t help but slam the computer shut and all but push the group of them out of his room. And when he closes the door, all he can do is cry and hope they can’t hear him.

--

You peek out the window and count seven black cars and fourteen different people standing on the block, anxious faces craning up with shining black cameras in their hand. You feel a hand on your shoulder and know the ice cold hands can only be Ricky. 

“Hey.” 

“How many?” 

“Fourteen.” you groan, giving him a frown as you yank your shoulder out from under his hand and walk past him. 

You head to the vanity, where you’re going to place your last finishing touches on your outfit. Ricky’s quick to follow and lean into your space, with a smirk pressed on his face. 

“Ricky.” 

“Yes, babe?” 

“Ew. Do you need something? Or are you all up in my space for fun?” 

“For fun! You smell really good.” 

You make it a point to lightly shove him back, which you both laugh at as you clip on the sparkly necklace, making it a point to not move suddenly at all from this moment forward. 

It would be infinitely embarrassing if you ripped the first designer dress you wore. Especially when you have to return it later. 

Ricky swings his hand around you from the back and holds a cupcake in front of your face, a glimmering blue candle lit in the middle. You give him a questioning look in the mirror. 

“Baby’s first Met Gala!” 

You snort as you blow out the candle, taking it from his hands and pulling the wax out. 

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Ricky says. 

“For?” 

“The cupcake! And getting you invited to the Met Gala.” 

You smack his shoulder, giving him your angriest look, before you both laugh. 

“You’re a prick. I got invited all on my own.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.” he responds, sarcastically. 

“What flavor is the cupcake?” 

“Chocolate.” 

“Eh. I like vanilla.” you respond, swiping the frosting off the top with your finger. But before you can lick it, Ricky reaches for it first and swipes it right off your finger. 

“I mean, I was going to eat that, Ricky.” 

“I only like the frosting of the cupcake.” 

“Well, I only like the frosting too. Especially when it’s not the flavor of cake I like.” 

You hand Ricky the rest of the cupcake and grab your purse as you head out. You press the button on the elevator and both slide in when it opens, the anticipation of the fourteen people waiting outside for you and the hundred more who will be at the event sitting on you. You must be making some weird face because Ricky catches on to it super fast. 

“Just relax. It’s just paparazzi, not flying to the moon.” 

“I know that. I just feel like I’m not entirely here at the moment. And they’re all going to ask me about Girlfriend and you and Eren and I just-” 

You still haven’t encountered the press after the entire thing, despite most of the tabloids writing things in your favor. Because rehashing the worst thing that’s ever happened for you in the two seconds the paparazzi talk to you and have it become a whole convoluted story is not something you’re ready for. 

After the entire thing went down, you retreated to your room for one day. One day. With full intentions to mope for the rest of your life, because you would never live this down. And because the entire ordeal was so overstimulating, so stressful that you need to rest.  

Until Danny and Sareen dragged you out by the legs and forced you to film a music video with Ricky. Then go to his debut of the song and the music video in Times Square. And then they granted you your beauty rest, but then that stupid voice in your head got the best of you and you couldn’t help but watch what everyone said about the entire thing after the event. 

People thought the entire Girlfriend thing was really tasteless. Because it was. Ricky did a bunch of interviews, where he just talked you up and how the entire thing was ridiculous in his opinion. They thought it was sweet of Ricky to come to your defense with Death of a Bachelor and that your official debut as a couple was one for the books. 

You’ll take a win where you can get one. 

Everyone sided with you, which was nice. Fans wise but also from your real friends. Connie, Marco, Mikasa, and Jean were at your side the entire time, which you appreciated. 

Connie was the one that convinced you that “you had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever” and filmed a video of you, Jean, Mikasa, and him dancing to Girlfriend and posted it. 

Which was your favorite part of the entire thing, not because of the song, but because they were there for you through the entire thing. That Connie could make something mortifying funny for you. A bad memory a good one. A true testament to his support. 

Unlike some people. People’s inquisitive eyes leave no stone untouched and now rumors of a fallout between you and Historia are flying around, when she’s the only one to not publicly come to your defense. And you get it, she doesn’t have to. What you don’t understand is why she won’t return any of your calls. 

Ricky reaches down and grabs your hand, locking his fingers in yours as he gives you a smile, bringing you back down from the thoughts. 

“I won’t leave you, okay? Danny and Sareen said I should handle all those questions anyways.” 

“And if Lana comes up to me?” 

“Spit in her face. She’s really annoying.” 

“And if Eren comes up to me?” 

“I’ll give you a big kiss.” 

“Ew. Don’t do that.” 

“I love it when you act disgusted by me.” 

You snicker as the elevator rings and the door swings open. You’re immediately flooded with a mound of flashing lights as Ricky grabs your hand and drags you through the crowd into the fresh air. And it only gets worse outside because not only are the cameras outside bigger, but the reporters are louder. 

Are you and Ricky official? 

Eren and Hyla are rumored to be dating. Do you have any comments on that, Y/N? 

Can you tell us anything about your upcoming record, Ribbons? 

Ricky ducks your head into the car first before sliding in himself, tapping on the seat ahead of him as the car speeds off. You let go of Ricky’s hand, wiping the sweat against your dress, immediately freezing when you remember you’re supposed to return it at the end of the night. 

“Now was that so bad?” Ricky asks, giving you a winning smile. 

“Literally, yes! I wasn’t expecting them to be in the lobby.” 

“Cmon, you nailed it. I was there, wasn’t I?” 

“Quit trying to flirt, Ricky. You suck at it.” you grumble, which he laughs at. 

The car comes to a screeching halt and you give Ricky a weary smile as he walks out first, making it a point to open the door for you on the other side. You wrap your arm around his as you both walk the carpet, giving glimmering smiles every time you walk a few paces. 

You make mental notes of those standing on the steps behind you and you catch sight of them. Eren and Hyla, in the center of the carpet. Eren’s lifting his hand to twirl her in the middle, with consecutive clicks from the cameras. And you can see Sukuna right behind them, pretending to gag with Maki and probably ruining all the picutres.

You smile, making it a point to sit with Sukuna later because he’s so wildly unserious that it’s probably the only thing you could tolerate on a day like this. And it would really piss off Eren.

Mikasa and Jean are smiling at you from behind the ropes, Mikasa giving you a sweet smile and mouthing that you look great. She points at a spot towards the left and you nod, signaling that you’ll meet her there after. 

Out of the periphery of your eye, you catch sight of it. The giant cat in the middle of the runway. You tap Ricky on the shoulder, pointing it out to him. 

“Oh god.” 

“At the Met Gala? That’s so unserious.” you respond. 

“Ten bucks it’s Gojo.” 

“That’s such a lame bet. I know for a fact that’s Gojo. He’s the only type of dumbass to show up to the Met Gala dressed up as a big white cat with blue eyes.” 

You both lean closer together, making a point to make sure the paparazzi are taking pictures of you two all close to each other. The head of the cat pops off and surely enough, a very excited Satoru Gojo is now running in circles around in the middle of the carpet. And blocking every girl standing on the side.

You don’t miss Geto standing ten paces behind with Shoko, the two of them very loudly declaring that they, in fact, do not know or associate with that man.

“You owe me ten bucks.” 

“I never agreed to that, Ricky.” 

Ricky leans forward and plants a warm kiss on your cheek, earning a nice symphony of cooing from the photographers on the other side. 

“Oh?” 

“We both got it right. So we both get a reward.” he responds, tapping his left cheek. 

You roll your eyes as you stand on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek and consequently wipe your glittery lip gloss off his face after. You give the cameras a smile and wrap your arm around his again as you walk farther down the carpet towards the interviewers. 

“Y/N. You look gorgeous!” 

“Thank you! So do you.” 

“Is there anything you can tell us about your third upcoming album, Ribbons? What’s your favorite track on the album?” 

“Thank you for asking! I think Ribbons is a mix of a lot of feelings I’ve had lately - specifically good, warm, and positive feelings. I-I think that being negative is something that’s really easy to do, especially when you’re in my position, but I try to keep my music feeling like sunshine on a nice day, because who likes to focus on the bad when you can just be the good. My favorite track on the album is seven, a song that I’ll be performing inside later today with one of my best, best friends who I wrote it with.” 

“That’s sweet. Are any of these positive feelings a consequence of your new beau, Ricky James?” 

And right on cue, Ricky’s on your side, tilted eyes glimmering in the camera. 

“I know for a fact they are. She loves to write songs about me.” 

“That’s a bold statement coming from you, Ricky.” you respond. 

“I’m a bold guy.” Ricky responds, giving you a wink. 

“Speaking of writing songs, Y/N. How do you feel about songs being written about you? Songs like Girlfriend?” 

The reporter looks way too excited at this part now. You look at Ricky before answering, who gives you a subtle nod. The answer you practiced with Sareen and Danny. 

“I think it’s flattering.” 

“Really?” 

Ricky slides his hand around your waist and smiles, finishing off the rest of the answer for you. 

“Oh, it’s totally flattering. I mean, I’d be really intimidated if I was comparing myself to someone like Y/N here too. She’s quite literally at the top of her game, in every sense, and it’s easy to feel less than when you’re comparing yourself to a future triple threat. So we get the thought process behind it.” 

“Ricky.” 

“It’s true, Y/N. Personally, I think they should pick London Boy from her discography as the song selection. But that’s just me.” 

You smile at each other as you give the interviewer a polite nod, giving each other a thumbs up as you walk around the floor. You finally get to stop near Jean and Mikasa, who are very obviously already wine drunk, from the way their cheeks are tinted pink. 

“Wow, Jean. It hasn’t even been two hours yet.” you respond, placing your hand flat against his cheek to see how much his skin is burning. 

“I hate this type of shit.” Jean responds, grumbling. 

“Jean. How drunk are you? Don’t tell me you’re imagining cats walking around are you?” you ask, feigning concern. 

“Huh? That cat isn’t real?” 

“You’re actually seeing cats?!” Mikasa asks, catching on. 

“THERE’S A REAL CAT HERE, MIKA. LOOK.” Jean says, pointing at Satoru who is now lying face down on the red carpet. 

"Jean."

"Y/N. MIKASA. I'M SO SERIOUS I SWEAR THERE'S A REAL CAT. IT TALKED TO ME EARLIER. IT TOLD ME I SHOULD HAVE DRESSED UP AS A HORSE WITH IT."

“Oh, sweetheart. We should go inside, you’ve had too much. You always do this, Jean.” Mikasa says, shaking her head as she leads him in. Mikasa turns her head over her shoulder and gives you a wink, before she walks straight into the venue. 

Geto and Shoko come up to your side after they catch you staring at Gojo - who's now doing the worm in his cat suit on the floor - as they both give you polite hugs. The three of you stand against the wall to watch him take the spotlight away from anyone who was hoping to have it. 

“Can you believe you’re married to that guy?” you ask Geto. 

“Please don’t remind me. It pains me everyday.” 

“He wore the cathead to my house the first day he got it. I was hosting a vigil for one of my neighbors.” Shoko states, placing a cigarette between her teeth. 

You snort at the thought of Gojo, in his fully exuberant energy, trotting into a room of people mourning with the cat head on.

Megumi and Yuuta join the group of you as you now watch Yuuji - whose actually dressed in a nicely styled suit - have a dance off with Cat Gojo on the red carpet. 

You nudge Megumi in the side. 

“Can you believe you’re dating that guy?” 

“We’re breaking up.” Megumi responds, earning a laugh from the group. 

“I can’t tell what’s worse. The fact that they’re dance battling at the Met Gala or that Yuuji is horrendously losing to Gojo wearing a twelve pound cat-suit.” 

“Yuuji losing.” you all respond in unison. 

“I think Cat Gojo is going to haunt me in my dreams.” you respond. 

“Get this, Y/N. It’s not Cat Gojo. It’s Catoru.” Yuuta responds. 

“Don’t tell me he trademarked it already.” 

“He did.” they all respond in unison. 

"Geto. Shoko. When you burn that thing in the flames of hell, I want a video." you state.

"That's a promise, kid." Geto responds, with Shoko giving an affirmative nod.

You turn to your left to find Ricky standing at your side, with his arm wrapped around John. Historia’s ex-boyfriend. You give the group of them a polite nod as you walk away and join Ricky at your side. 

“Y/N. This is my friend, John. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.” 

“Hi. Y/N.” you respond, making every effort to emphasize the flatness in your voice. 

“John. Nice to meet you.” he responds, holding his hand out which you refuse to touch. 

“Play any chess games lately?” you ask, making a pointed reference to Historia’s song. 

He glares and you watch the smile on Ricky’s face drop. You give your best, sickly sweet smile as you wait for a response. 

“That’s right. You acted in Attack on Titan so you must be friends with Historia.” 

“Very good friends.” you respond. 

“Okay John, we’re going to go in. I’ll see you in a sec, yeah?” Ricky responds, hands increasingly hard on your biceps as he drags you a few paces away. 

“Ouch, Ricky. Get off.” 

He’s leaning close to you, whispering in your ear earlier like you two were when Satoru came in, except this is nowhere near as fun as last time. 

“What’s your problem?” 

“What’s yours? He’s not a good guy, Ricky.” 

“I’ve made every effort to be friends with your friends. You could and should be doing the same for me, Y/N.” 

“And I will. For your friends who aren’t groomers, Ricky.” 

Ricky glares at you before giving you a smile and pressing a kiss to your forehead with the paparazzi so close, before dragging you into the venue with him. You settle into your seat next to Ricky, craning your neck to see where the rest of your friends are sitting, all the way on the other side of the room. 

You turn to the girl sitting next to you and whisper in her ear. 

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” 

“I-I know who you are. I’m a big fan.” 

“I’m really sorry to ask you this then. But you see that guy right there, pink hair, those two little scars near his eyes. Could you go and switch seats with him? He’s sitting in between Megumi Fushiguro and Yuuta Okkotsu, so I can at least promise it’s a better seat than this one.” 

She looks over and gives you an affirmative nod. You squeeze her shoulder as you watch her stomp over, Sukuna turn back to give you a questioning look, before letting the girl take his seat and striding over to sit next to you with two cups in his hands. 

He sits on the chair to your left, making it a point to spread his legs as far as he can on his chair, and glare at Ricky as he sits down. 

“What do you want, doll?” 

“Nothing. I got bored.” 

He shrugs as he places the second cup in front of you, which you pick up. And then immediately spit back up, because it’s just straight vodka. 

“Shit. My bad, doll. That’s mine.” 

“You’re drinking straight vodka? No chaser?” you ask. 

“Imagine doing this shit sober. I’d drive myself half insane.” he murmurs. 

You switch the cups and drink yours again, pleasantly surprised by a warm, sweet latte. 

“Sukuna. How’d you know?” you ask. 

“Eren told me.” 

You look over at him, giving him your best glare. 

“As if you’d talk to Eren.” you snort, craning your neck to find him on his phone, next to Hyla’s who is fixing her hair. 

“We talk. It’s just not pleasant.” 

“Yeah. My preferred coffee order is just so horrible to talk about.” 

“You wouldn’t believe it. Poor guy mopes about you so much it even makes me depressed.” 

Ricky taps aggressively on your shoulder, leaning over into your space.

“I’m going to go sit with John.” Ricky states, angrily. 

“Okay?” you respond. 

“Okay? That’s it, Y/N?” 

“Do you need a formal, written invitation? Or does she need to hold your hand and walk you there so you don’t get lost?” Sukuna responds, glaring at him. 

Ricky gets irritated at Sukuna’s response and storms off, which just has Sukuna moving his chair so that you can both prop your legs up on it. You’re both switching off on sharing your drinks - mixing Sukuna’s alcohol with your latte and watching all the performances. 

“Are you performing?” Sukuna asks. 

“Yeah. With Marco, right before Eren.” 

“Real cute. Is it that same fluff shit you always write?” 

You smack him hard on the shoulder. 

“Asshole. That fluff shit is Multi-Platinum, dumbass.” 

“I get that. But I’m saying, you should write something more serious than that. Instead of penting up all that rage in your forehead, you should write it in a song. Quit letting real stupid girls call you stupid in songs.” 

“I can’t. My record doesn’t really like the idea of that.” you respond. 

“So? You’re the artist and it’s your music. Write whatever you want. Don’t be a chickenshit.” 

“It’s not that simple, Sukuna.” 

“No. It literally is. You’re just chicken.” 

“It’s not about chicken, Sukuna. My record was the one who took a chance on me and to some extent, I have to follow that. And they’ve made me Multi-Platinum so far so who am I to not listen to them?” 

“God. You’re pathetic.” 

“And you’re an asshole, Sukuna.” 

“Do you want to kiss now?” 

You reach forward to smack his face, which elicits a laugh from him. 

“You never change, do you Sukuna?” 

“Best thing about me, doll. You should learn to piss people off like I do. It’ll actually relieve some of that tension. And flirting is good for your health.” 

“We can’t all afford to be feather rustlers like you.” 

“You could. I’m sure people would eat it up - the whole sweet girl saying her mind type thing. I’ll give you lessons on how to talk your shit sometime instead of letting idiots like that do it for you.” 

He points over at Ricky, whose glaring bullets at the two of you. You give him a gesture, which he completely ignores as he turns over to whisper in John’s ear. 

“Out of all guys, you had to pick that one? When you tweeted that you were charged with murder, I thought you were being serious and got really excited for a second.” 

“Danny and Sareen picked him. That’s not my fault.” 

You feel a tap on your shoulder and see the usher, signaling that it’s time for you to perform. You nod and turn to Sukuna, who's already getting up from the chair. He presses a kiss to your cheek before you walk off to the other side where Marco’s waiting. 

--

Eren’s sitting towards the end of the bench, hands pressed under his legs, when he watches you take the stage with Marco, a glittering smile on your face.

And in your billowing, white dress, there’s only one thing Eren can focus on. The fish tattoo, right on display. He instinctively reaches for his own, hidden under the fabric of his clothes, and thinks about how your sweet, flowery smell was always overwhelming, even in a disgusting tattoo parlor. 

And when Eren catches sight of Marco at the piano, Eren knows you’re a temptress to everyone and not just him. Exhibit A? You convinced Marco to sing in public with you. 

“Hi everyone. My name is Y/N.” 

Everyone breaks into a loud applause and Eren thinks that the wolf-whistling in the corner is Mikasa, who he’s convinced is shit-faced by the way her cheeks are glowing pink. 

“Thank you. Um, can we just take a minute to give a second round of applause to my sunshine boy, Marco, here? He’s not a big singer and I’ve all but forced him to do this with me, so let’s all give him some love.” 

The crowd claps again and Eren knows for a fact that the wolf-whistling this time is Jean, who is actually plastered. 

“This song is off my new album, called Ribbons, and it’s called seven. The idea of this song kind of came up randomly. I told Marco that it was kind of sad that I don’t have any of the childhood friends I did when I was a kid anymore. And Marco just responded by saying, ‘what do you mean, we’ve been friends since we were seven?’ And long story short, I jumbled out a nice mess of lyrics with Marco and Armin produced it after that and the song was finished. We hope you like it!” 

Marco starts playing a soft piano tune, accompanied by your light strumming on the guitar, and some part of it is so familiar, so you that it makes Eren’s heart ache. Not that Eren’s a big hater of your new, more pop songs like London Boy, but Eren’s always enjoyed your soulful, soft songs like this more.

They remind him of the soft parts of him that you only shared with him, when you used to be next him when he slept at night. 

Y/N:  Please picture me In the trees I hit my peak at seven feet In the swing Over the creek I was too scared to jump in But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things?

Eren fights the urge to snort. Of course, there’s still beautiful things. You’re standing right there.

And Eren knows he’s way too sensitive for this because hearing your soft, echoing voice when he’s about to sing a song about the last time he kissed you has him pushing his face into the table. Because there are tears in his eyes. 

Y/N:  Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you

Marco:  Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

When you both finish, Eren watches you give Marco a big hug and a kiss on the cheek as you both walk off together. And then Eren’s trailing up to the stage where Historia’s waiting, the orchestral suite setting up their instruments and he feels his hands shaking at his sides. Historia gives him a smile, which he appreciates as he takes the front stand.

He hates it up here. He knows that flowery scent in the air is you. He manifested it by thinking about it and now it's suffocating him.

You lean against the wall with Marco, hands linked together, as you watch Eren readjust the microphone to his height and Historia sit at the piano. You make a fleeting second of eye contact with her and give her a smile, which she halfheartedly returns.

Eren’s hair is shorter, he’s cut it from the last time you’ve seen him. And he looks kind of tired, though you’re sure you look no better. 

“My name is Eren Jaeger. This is my new song, Promise, that I co-composed and wrote with my friend, Historia.”

You lean your head against Marco’s shoulder, who is giving you a warm squeeze on the shoulder, as you listen. 

I made a promise To distance myself Took a flight, through aurora skies Honestly, I didn't think about How we didn't say goodbye Just see you very soon

You pinch your eyes shut as you feel the breath constrict in your throat and tears warm in your eyes. 

“You okay?” 

“It’s Eren. Of course, I’m not okay.” you whisper. 

No matter how long I resist temptation  I always lose  It hurts to be something  It’s worse to be nothing with you I’ve done the math  There’s no solution  We’ll never last Why can’t I let go of this? 

As Eren goes on and on, that soft voice that’s lulled you to sleep hundreds of time is haunting you. And Marco’s reflexes to wipe your tears away fast are the only reason that people don’t catch on.

When Eren finishes, his green eyes meet yours and he gives you a painstakingly long look, before walking away. 

You don’t see him again that night. Or for a while. You figure it's better that way. Being in the same room but not talking is like nails on a chalkboard.

--

You lean over the counter, scrolling through the set of pictures Ricky just took, as you wait for the timer on your computer to count down.

Ricky circles his arm around your shoulder, as you both watch the seconds on the timer run out and the little display of confetti go around the screen. 

You refresh the tab on your Apple Music and you see it - your name and album cover displayed in bright colors right at the top banner. 

“How does it feel?” Ricky asks, watching you refresh your Spotify on your phone and watch the songs turn from grey to white, meaning they're now able to be played. 

“Good. I hope Historia calls me after she realizes that dorothea is about her.” you murmur, the notifications on your phone buzzing from Reiner, Levi, and Mikasa. You open Levi's first.

levi: We love the record, kid.

you: it's been out for five seconds.

levi: Just shut up and take the compliment, sometimes.

you: I love you, levi. give kisses to hange. i'll call you guys tomorrow.

“She will. Just relax.” Ricky states, as he watches you push up on the counter, legs dangling in the air after putting your phone down.

He reaches for the lowest drawer, pulling out a dark black box and placing it flat in the palm of your hand. 

“What’s this?” 

“A gift, before you go on tour. And I wanted to ask you something.” 

You nod, encouraging him to go on, as you look at the bracelet - a chain-linked, chunky silver bracelet with a heart charm right in the middle. 

“That’s custom made. From Tiffany, because it’s your favorite right?” 

“Yeah. Thank you, I really appreciate it.” 

“Well, I’m really proud of you. Ribbons is a great record and I’m sure you and I will be competing for Record of the Year in a few months.” 

You smile as Ricky leans closer, hands on both of your sides of the counter. 

“I think you’re really great. And-and I know we’ve been pretending but some part of this became really real for me and I think it did for you too. So I think we should quit playing around and do this for real.” 

You feel your throat dry as Ricky smiles at you, so excited and earnest, that you almost feel bad. For how you’re going to shoot him down. 

“Ricky. Oh. Um. Listen. You’re really great. I-I really like you. But I-I don’t know if I can do that right now.” you respond. 

“That’s okay. I don’t expect anything from you and I’m willing to be patient and all that. We’ll figure it out.” he responds, yanking the chain out of the box and reaching forward to secure it around your hand. 

“Listen. I-I don’t know if it’s all that. It’s just, I don’t. I like you Ricky but not like that. I just can’t do that right now.” 

Ricky leans back in confusion, dragging the necklace off your hand as you give him your most sincere smile. And you can’t help but feel bad for not liking him back. When he’s helped you out more times than you can count, with red carpets and defending you when he didn’t have to. 

But you can't help these sort of things.

“Listen. I-I can go home. I’ll take the trash and then leave so you can be alone, yeah?” 

“Okay. I appreciate that. Thank you for being honest.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Of course. And thank you for taking it well, I still appreciate what you’ve done and have a lot of love for you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder as you walk past. 

You take the half filled bag of trash and walk out to the garage to swing the door open. There’s a decent amount of rain pouring down and you quickly scamper out admist it. You throw the bag over your shoulder and quickly run over to the chute to throw it down before running down to the door. 

Except when you reach for the handle, it doesn’t pull down. You jam it down, more aggressively this time as the heavy drops start matting your hair to your forehead. Giving up on the door, you run to the other side and rap your knuckles against the window, where Ricky’s back is still turned. 

He turns around and gives you a look, half opening the window. 

“Hey. Sorry, I accidentally locked the door on the way out.” 

“That wasn’t an accident. That was me.” Ricky responds, glaring at you. 

“Huh?” 

“That was me.” he responds, again. 

“Listen, I can’t really hear you and it’s really cold outside. Can you just let me in?” you ask. 

“Sorry, Y/N. I really like you but I just don’t know if I can do that right now.”

"Ricky."

He closes off the window and walks away all together. 

You can feel the panic setting in your chest - at the fact that you’re standing in the pouring rain in Seattle and you don’t know where to go. And that Ricky, nice and sweet Ricky, just locked you out.

You hunch over on your knees, yanking your phone out of your pocket to call Mikasa. She picks up on the first call and you can hear her and Jean screaming through the speaker. 

“TOP TEN ON THE CHARTS I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT.” they both scream, the sentence going over you’re head. 

“Mika. Mika, wait.” you whisper, the tears starting to fill your eyes. 

You’re thrown off by the screeching of tires and doors closing and you march over to Ricky’s side door. You lightly crack it open and spot seven paparazzi cars, parked straight on Ricky’s porch. 

Meaning. Not only did Ricky lock you out of his house in the pouring rain but he made sure to call the paparazzi so they can catch you the first chance he got. You quickly shut the door and run to the backside of the house, into the back streets by Ricky’s neighborhood. And the panic's starting to make your legs shake.

“Mika. You’re not still in Seattle, are you?” you ask, the panic laced in your voice. 

“No, babe. We’re in Tampa right now for Armin and Annie’s thing. We left a few days ago.” 

“Do you know anyone who is? This is urgent, Mika.” 

You hear Mikasa murmuring over the phone and suddenly Jean’s on the line, his voice more firm and collected than Mikasa’s. You can suddenly hear her panicking in the background, talking to a third voice you can’t identify. 

“Marco says your options are Eren or Historia. They’re both still in Seattle, though I think Eren’s closer to where you are. Call us when you’re safe. Immediately, Y/N.” Jean says. 

“Okay.” 

You can hear the sound of raised voices from the direction you came and you quickly hunch to the side. You try your best to wipe the wetness of your phone as you scroll for Eren’s contact and dial. 

He picks up on the first ring.

“Y/N?” he asks, voice raspy like he was sleeping. 

And at the sound of his voice, months after the fact, when you’re soaked to the bone in the rain, you can’t help but cry. 

“Eren?” you ask, voice breaking. 

“Y/N. What is it?” he asks, voice suddenly louder. 

“I need your help.”

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No. No, I'm not hurt, but I could be? I don't know, Eren I-"  

“Say the word. What-what is it? I-I’m there. Just tell me what you need me to do, love."  

“I need you to come get me, Eren.” 

“I’m coming. Stay exactly where you are and on the line with me.”

--

--

next part linked here

taglist:

@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai  @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist by either commenting on this or the masterlist <3

[somanystarfish]

Yakuza Fiance: Raise Wa Tanin Ga Ii Anime Reveiw

When I first stumbled onto Raise Wa Tanin Ga Ii or Yakuza Fiance, I was pretty bored of romance anime/manga. I thought I knew how this series would play out. A cute, feminine, and innocent female lead meets a Yandre Yakuza bad boy who changes for the better because he falls in love with her. Both would stumble around their feelings for one another, and bad boy would steal the show by getting into fights saving her all the while looking really cool. Tried and true.

Episode one seemed like it was setting exactly this up until…

Kirishima looks Yoshino dead in the eye and tells her that if she’s going to hang around him, she may as well make use of her only redeeming quality- her looks- and sell her body at a brothel he has connections with. He says it because he wants her scared of him and gone.

And she does sell her body.

She disappears for two weeks and comes back after selling her kidney. Which is stupid, yeah, but she refuses to let anyone think that they can intimidate or manipulate her. She did it to send him a clear message. She’s crazy, and she doesn't back down. She’ll go to extremes and drag you down with her.

And just like that, he’s obsessed

and SO AM I!

This series is so much fun! It leans into trashy tropes but quickly subverts expectations.

Female leads in yakuza stories are typically submissive or resigned to their roles. Not here. Yoshino’s blunt, unpretentious personality and refusal to conform to expectations make her so refreshing. She also plays an active role in the story instead of just reacting to the antics of the boys around her. I love seeing her struggle to assert her autonomy in a world seeking to control her.

She grew up around Yakuza, so she’s hardened and twisted. She has guts for days, is unafraid to join in on fights, and has no qualms about fighting dirty. Romantic ideals don’t blind her. Instead, she acknowledges her circumstances and finds ways to assert her agency. She’s not easily shaken and won’t hesitate to call anyone out on their bullshit, making her feel grounded and realistic. Overall, she’s not defined by one role or trope but is a multifaceted character who feels like a real person navigating extraordinary circumstances.

The extraordinary circumstances are Kirishima—a ML from hell. While Kirishima is a violent, sneaky, obsessive f**kboy, Yoshino will uphold her pride above all else. Their strong personalities clash like a Molotov cocktail to flame. For every one thing Kirishima does right as a romance ML, he does ten more things that should disqualify him, and she’s all too aware of them all. But she stays with him because she’d rather die than back down from a tough situation before finding a way to come out on top.

It’s not normal or right, but it’s wickedly enjoyable to see play out!

She’s open about her inability to see him as a romantic interest—rightfully so because she knows how dangerous he can be. That said, she also makes it clear that she values authenticity, encouraging Kirishima to be himself rather than putting on a “good boy” act for her. Since both of them are tied to the yakuza world, they can understand and accept each other in ways outsiders can't.

While many stories soften or redeem similar characters, Yakuza Fiancé leans into Kirisima’s worst qualities, showing his manipulative and unpredictable nature without romanticizing it. Love doesn’t make him a better person. He may act cute with her, but that doesn’t mean she can let her guard down around him.

Neither is right in the head, so their relationship could never be normal. It’s much less of a story where you watch this romance develop and more of one where you watch them react and grow as they deal with one another.

The secondary characters also share rich, organic bonds with each other. Shouma is SO MUCH more than a second male lead existing solely for a love triangle, and Tsubaki isn’t just a simple supportive side character either—they each bring their own unique complexities to the narrative. These relationships add emotional weight to Yoshino’s journey, showing that her life isn’t defined solely by her engagement to Kirishima but by her connections to others in her world too. None of THEM are normal, so seeing them enter the scene is always fun.

WHAT I DON’T LOVE:

Studio DEEN’s limited budget is noticeable in the animation. The art direction sometimes fails to harmonize the characters with their environments, though nighttime settings look significantly better.

While the sound design features a couple of cool tracks, it often feels mismatched with the tone.

The pacing suffers from cramming too many moments into each episode, ultimately sacrificing emotional impact.

While anime lets us see all the action scenes animated, the manga remains the superior version of the story, in my opinion. It’s just more polished and well-paced.

Overall, Yakuza Fiancé is not for those looking for lighthearted romantic escapism; some may find the romance lacking in traditional payoffs. However, the series offers a compelling blend of psychological drama and romance, focusing on challenging conventions and crafting dynamic characters.

If you’re willing to give it your patience, the story is at its best from episode 7 onwards.

This is a fun watch if you’re ready for a story that keeps you guessing at every turn with a female lead who stands in a league of her own.

9/10

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"So your sister will be coming by next week with the little ones," your mother declares as you stand at the sink, scrubbing away the remnants of roast beef and potato. "You'll get to play auntie for the day."

"Mhmm," you nod, "what about Justin?"

"Oh, your brother's down visiting with his fiance's family. He said he'd try to make if for Christmas Eve but you know how her family is."

You sniff and pretend to know. You really don't. It's all hearsay to you. You don't hear much from either siblings; they have lives, you just happen to be related.

"S-sounds great," you utter as you put another plate in the rack.

"Oh, honey, you should just use the dishwasher," she says.

"It's f-f-fine, this works," you insist.

"Well, what about you? What are you up to?" She leans on the counter.

"I..." you don't know what to say. You need a lie, anything to appease her. Your brother's engaged, your sister has the white picket fence and you have nothing, "oh, I h-have a job interview."

"You do?" She sounds thoroughly disbelieving.

"Uh, yeah, w-well," you stammer through, trying not to give away your deceit, "since n-no one wants to h-hire me in my f-field, I f-found something new."

"That's exciting," she chimes, "what is it?"

"Uh, I w-want to see i-if it turns out b-before I say," you give a tight-lipped smile, "don't want to d-disappoint you again."

"Sweetie, you're not a disappointment," she hums, "I'm always happy to see you trying."

You look down at the sink and shrug. Behind that comment is the inference that you weren't trying before. That you haven't been. The long nights with vivid nightmares don't exactly motivate you and you've been all but blacklisted as an executive assistant. Even admin roles aren't responding. Even if you do get a bite, the job market is drawn out and tedious.

"Thanks, mom."

"Just... try not to mope around the kids," she chides, "it's Christmas."

You flutter your lashes, "sure, mom."

That's what you are to everyone; weak, pathetic, useless. No, don't do that. You'll make another appointment with Lisa, she always knows what to do.

☕️

Well, this is it. A last resort. One of those freelancing websites that pays pennies. It's better than nothing and will keep you from having too big a gap on your resume. You could easily do the writing gigs, easy money for transcription. You apply to a few of those and scroll on.

You sit up as you see a particular posting that interest you. Oddly enough, the pay isn't half bad. It's also labeled as 'may lead to ongoing work'. Well, well, well, now that's something.

You click into the posting for 'Podcast Script Writer' and review the details. A sample is required for application and lucky enough, you have lots of those hanging around. If it wasn't for your stammer, you'd have an episode done by now. You deleted enough recordings to the point of giving up. Well, this is a solution. You can get your work out there without having to embarrass yourself.

You go through the application, putting in your info and editing a draft before attaching it to the application. You just hope it's thorough enough. You never really let anyone else see and hitting submit makes your stomach flip. With the final click, you close your laptop and quickly get up. Alright, you're not going to dwell on it. If you hear anything, you'll worry then.

You try to read but can't focus. It just makes you think of the posting and your application. Oh jeez, imagine you're rejected but worse, they tell you you've done everything wrong.

Appointment! You can't forget that. You login to the app and put in a request for a Zoom appointment that week. Alright, you're getting things done, you can't say you've done nothing.

You put a video on your phone and lean it on the pop out grip, propping it up on your mattress to watch the compilation of sitcom moments cut together on Youtube. Your mind wanders and your eyes begin to sag as the day shrouds you in fatigue. You slip into a shallow doze as the glare of the screen flickers over you.

The distant clack of keyboards and clicking of mouses needles behind your ears. It's as if you're trapped in a bubble of silence, all colours and noised dampened by the unseen wall. You shudder as you hear his voice, the only thing that's clear. Your name crawls up behind the shell of your ear with his breath as his hands settle on your hips. Your body aches as every muscles tightens and your bones lock in place. Please, no, not again...

"Sir..." you try to speak but nothing comes out. He's always tugging your skirt up, his hand is around your throat. You close your eyes as tears stain your cheeks.

You wake with a start, your phone black as the battery's drained from neglect. You sit up and pant, looking around your dark bedroom, the moonlight limning shadows sinisterly. You gulp and fall back, watching the ceiling as the tears rise in reality and sting your eyes.

If you'd just said no. A simple word. Even you can manage that.

You lay for a while until your restlessness boils over. You get up and plug in your phone. The screen lights up as you rub your eye socket and yawn. There's an email notification in the taskbar. Probably more ads for things you can't afford.

You pull down the menu but find ‘Application Update’ emblazoned across the notification. Oh wow, that was fast. You keep yourself from tapping on the email.

You don't know if you can handle another rejection. You'd rather languish in the uncertainty. You've been doing so for so long, it almost feels safe.

[ca-suffit]

No offense to Sam but the way he's been talking about Lestat lately is ... troubling, to say the least. He did an interview with Screenrant and he legit said that Lestat's abuse of Louis was "probably not as violent an act as Louis made it out to be in season 1." That's a direct quote, by the way. I understand that a lot of Lestat fans have their rose-colored glasses on and they're not the only ones, sure. However, when you have the actor saying things like this, are we really surprised Lestat fans are just as willing to turn a blind eye and act as if he's this innocent beacon of sunshine whose word is the gospel truth? I can't include links but you can search up Sam Reid and Screenrant on Google and the article should pop up.

ya, I've seen that quote (article and text at the bottom of this post).

if this fandom was full of critical thinkers the way ppl always luv to claim, we'd be able to discuss these things and even say maybe these actors say dumb, harmful shit sometimes. assigning sam reid the new role of anne rice stand in, coming from ppl who already have an unhealthy relationship with her, usually going back decades, is why trying to do anything here is p useless.

this fandom will never know peace bcuz instead of focusing on the fact harm was done, racist fandom has to keep digging and victim blaming black characters bcuz how could the white character do this, it's ooc, it's bad writing, it's not what anne rice would have done (except she did lol but there's always an excuse for why that doesn't count).

there's a lot of things the fandom could be talking about but instead it's gonna be tossing this quote up forever as "the truth" and it's gonna be like 50 year olds in the fandom doing it too. embarrassing tbh.

One of my favorite moments in the episode is Lestat apologizing over the cloud gift move from last season. It's powerful and moving, and yet so frustrating because the trial carries on like nothing after. Can you talk about playing that scene with Jacob?

Sam Reid: Yeah, I think we kind of had to make sure it [landed]. I don't want it to be like, "Yeah, but actually, it's not such a big deal. He apologized, and it's over now," which is what Claudia said. It's probably not as violent an act as Louis made it out to be in season 1, but I think the fact that Lestat did something to him that is so out of his nature was driven by the extent to which they love each other.

Lestat was driven to the point that he didn't fully even recognize himself, and he saw from his own hands an action that was unforgivable. You've physically hurt the person that you love so much that you no longer feel like you deserve to be with them. He knew that, and I think the thing is that he realized that as soon as he's done that, he also has to die.

In terms of working on that scene with Jacob, I think it's important for us to acknowledge that this is not the end. Do you know what I mean? This is not the finality of that beat. Louis doesn't forgive him at that moment, and Lestat sees that. He can't look at him that much during the trial, but there's another moment when Lestat looks at him and all he sees is pure hate in Louis' gaze. "He's never going to forgive me." But he doesn't flip back to just doing the trial — he still wants to save him, you know what I mean? He's got to just hurry the proceedings up, get through the f--king thing, and stick to his script.

That definitely is also when I feel like we get into that silhouetted, mirage version of the trial. I think that's when we're in full-blown POV bulls--t of how it actually went.

[obislittleone]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 4

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of bullying, Finnick being a warning again (for good reasons tho) Mentions of drowning, or fears of water. Mild mention of foreseeing death.

Chapter Summary: It's time to make allies. Being from a career district makes it a bit easier, at least it does if you don't say a word.

Word Count: 5.0k

Imagine being afraid of swimming pools lmaooo couldn't be me *internalizes my eight year old self's irrational fear of sharks in swimming pools*

“You climb a lot of ropes in four?” Rodey asked, but you shook your head, laughing it off. The group was impressed, or they seemed to be. The only odd one out was Estelle, still reeling from her failure to do what you had done.  The others continued to take turns, the boys scaling the rope much quicker due to their upper body advantages. They still slowed eventually, but all of them hit the buzzer. 

Four days left. 

In those four days, you would need to learn to swim, get your stutter under control, and convince the capitol that you were worthy of the sponsors they so generously endowed the tributes with. 

The day after the parade was slow. An introduction of sorts to the tribute center, and the other tributes. This is also very important, Finnick had said in the morning. A chance to make allies. 

You weren’t sure who would actually take you as an ally, but from what he told you, the careers stick together. 

“W-we aren’t careers,” you mumbled to Lukas when he brought it up to you in a whisper. You looked around, standing as tall as you possibly can, not giving anyone a reason to think you’re afraid of them. 

“Finnick said it doesn’t matter. As long as we can show them what we bring to the table, they’ll take us.”

So, that means districts one and two. The tributes are a fine group this year, all four are volunteers, eighteen years of age and strong in body. The female tributes look far more lethal than even the boys do. They have an anger in their eyes that is not easily missed. 

The two of you stop walking when you reach one of the outdoor preparation stations. You can build a fire, and you can pitch a temporary shelter… but there’s nothing wrong with refreshing your memory. So, while you sit, you look around to see what the others are doing, trying to gauge an impression of each of them. What is their physicality? How smart are they? Do they have other skills outside of wielding a weapon? 

It seems that Finnick was right about the other careers, they mostly practice what they are already good at, mainly just to intimidate those they see as their prey. It’s a horrible thing, and yet, you can’t help but think it’s a good idea. The more tributes that would rather stay away from you, the better. Of course, you figure, the reasoning for always keeping the careers together is somewhat like that, too. Keep the other tributes out in the elements long enough to die off, then the careers have a better shot at winning. It’s a rigged system, but it gives you a chance. 

“It looks like a fire to me,” Lukas said, his cheery smile of accomplishment drawing your eyes back from around the room. He blew on the wood a bit more, getting the embers to spark to life. 

You playfully warmed yourself against it, acting as if you were shivering in the coldness of this warehouse-like setting. 

“It f-feels like a fire t-to me,” you joked, standing up afterwards and giving him a hand up. You both quickly extinguished the flames on the ground, and started walking again. “Wish they had a l-lake, could’ve t-taught me how to fish.”

“Sorry, sweetheart… but it takes years to learn to fish as well as me.”

“I b-believe it.”

Coming up on another station surrounded by careers, you put on a fake smile, your shoulders back and your mouth closed shut to keep your confidence looming. 

“The sea creatures decided to join us,” the male tribute from two said. He was seemingly laid back, his relaxed smile and light-hearted joke had made you feel as though he could be trusted as an ally. He didn’t seem to harbor a secret ill-will towards you both as tributes. He probably firmly believed in the careers as allies rule, however unspoken it was. 

Lukas nodded, a small laugh escaping from both of you. “Didn’t wanna miss out on this party, it seems really interesting,” he replied, pointing up in front of him at the rope hanging from the ceiling, one of the female tributes trying her hardest to reach the top. None of the other female tributes had done so yet, but she was a career, and was very motivated. 

“Well, it would be if Estelle would ever reach the top!” The female tribute from two responded this time, her chuckle filling her words as they were shouted towards the other female career. 

“You’re just mad you didn’t make it up,” the male tribute said, nudging her in the arm. She gave him a playful look, and immediately, you understood they were close. Just like you and Lukas. He turned back to you both and offered a hand to shake for each of you. “I’m Copelin, this is Freeda, that’s Rodey, and up there is Estelle.”

“Nice,” Lukas reached out first to shake the other two’s hands, you followed after with a smile. “I’m Lukas, this is Mercedes.”

The group nodded back to you and looked back up to Estelle, but Rodey seemed stuck on you for a minute. 

“I saw you at the parade,” he tilted his head, remembering just exactly what you were wearing. “You had that swimsuit on, right?” 

You nodded again, an embarrassed laugh falling from your lips. Well, you thought, at least I made an impression. 

“It was hot,” he winked, getting a small shove from Copelin as a result. 

At that you ducked your head to hide the redness in your cheeks. He seemed like he might have been kidding, but maybe he wasn’t. You did, after all, have the most revealing outfit at the parade. It was bound to happen that comments like these would fly about. You weren’t so sure you minded it anymore.

Rodey was still staring at you when you looked back up. He was cute, nice and tall, with wispy blonde hair… He had pretty hazel eyes, too. 

You hadn’t looked away from one another, completely ignoring the conversation happening amongst your new colleagues. They kept on, ranting about, until Estelle’s sudden drop to the ground interrupted. She’d let go maybe ten feet above ground, catching herself in a squat on her feet. She seemed angry, and the reasoning lied in the conversation you missed. 

“Told you so,” Copelin shook his head, hands on his hips and a slanted look on his face. 

Estelle turned to face the group with a fire in her eyes. “You know damn well that you’re the reason my hand still hurts.”

He whistled low, catching her death glare towards him with a smirk of his own. She rolled her eyes then fell in line with the group. 

“Why don’t you go then, huh? Show us all how it’s done,” she went beside him and shoved, hearing the group chuckle a bit when she used enough force to make him stutter step over his own toes. 

“Nuh uh, rules are still ladies first.”

“And we went,” she argued, her anger falling off a little and turning more into a salty annoyance. 

“Got one more,” Rodey nodded over to you, and you hesitated, feeling all eyes now shifting to your form, staying still and trying to avoid confrontation by all means. You pointed to yourself and asked with only your eyes if they were meaning you, and of course they were… you were just stalling. Your hands did rather good with rope, having woven several nets, and carried several boxes in your career as a loader. Your calloused and worn hands were practically made for this sort of thing, however stupid it was. Maybe this could give you a leg up on some of the competition. 

“You gonna go?” Freeda asked encouragingly, while Estelle stomped her foot impatiently on her other side. 

You took a deep breath and started climbing, the bottom several feet being an easy obstacle to overtake. The shoes you wore made it a bit harder to grip the rope between your feet, but you replied mostly on your hands and arms, trying to have them carry you to the top. It was about the upper middle of the rope when the burning started to settle in, the redness of your palms spreading to the sides of your hands for you to see. Still, you didn’t give up, you just went slower, trying to ignore the calls from the ground. They were mostly just taunts from the boys, anyway. You were only a few feet from the top when you had to pause, taking deep breaths and trying not to let go of the rope entirely. You wrapped your legs around the rope, letting go with one hand at a time in order to give them a shake into the air. 

“She’s not gonna make it,” Copelin mumbled, looking up at how close you were, but how much you were struggling. You had maybe five feet to go, but you were stuck. 

“Wanna bet?” Lukas looked to the boy beside him with a smirk, fully knowing your capabilities, but maybe overestimating you, even just for the sake of it. He didn’t want anyone here to think that there was something you could not do. He was going to be your greatest ally in hiding your secret. 

“Given that you know her better, not really.”

You sighed, realizing that if you didn’t at least try to make it past this point, you’d be a quitter. Who cares if you fall? You’re gonna die in a few days, anyway… might as well take a risk and speed up the process.

You reached up again, pulling with all your might, reaching one hand in front of the other and finally pushing with your feet to hit the small buzzer implanted to the ceiling. You clung back to the rope, starting to climb down, sliding most of the way due to the muscle exhaustion you just induced. When you hit the ground, they all seemed to be in agreement on something, but you couldn’t possibly know what it was. 

“You climb a lot of ropes in four?” Rodey asked, but you shook your head, laughing it off. The group was impressed, or they seemed to be. The only odd one out was Estelle, still reeling from her failure to do what you had done. 

The others continued to take turns, the boys scaling the rope much quicker due to their upper body advantages. They still slowed eventually, but all of them hit the buzzer. 

You watched on, trying to listen in on what each of them said while doing so. You were completely oblivious to the holes that Estelle was burning into your head with her stare. She was the district one female. She was the pick of the litter. She volunteered, and had been hoisted to the favorites list as soon as she did… but then at the parade yesterday. You outshined her… and today, you proved you were stronger. You were better. You had a more likely chance to receive sponsors, and you were more likely to win over another female tribute. And given that the boy from her district had taken a liking to you, she doubted she could convince him to off you for her. And the boy from four… he looked like he’d do nearly anything to protect you. It wasn’t fair. She was supposed to be the top pick… but here you came. Not even volunteering, just having been reaped from the crowd. You’d never spoken a word to her, or anyone else in the group for that matter, and she already hated you more than anyone ever had. The worst part? You are technically a career district, so she has to pretend to like you. She has to ally with you and act like you don’t bother her to immense lengths. She has to make camp with you, share weapons with you, and kill others before getting to kill you. And that’s really all she’s thinking about right now. Killing you.

-

The sparring mats were constantly filled, because obviously, combat training was the most desired by the other districts. The ones who are not trained or prepared otherwise. They need it the most, want to learn it the most. 

You found yourself there at the end of the day, waiting in line on the female tribute mat. Two others went at it, a girl from eight and a girl from eleven. They both seemed like they had an idea of what they were doing, but they both were equal in strength, and didn’t seem to be making any ground in any attack they faced. Finally, the girl from eleven had sneakily grabbed onto the ankle of the other while she was bent down, and pushed with all her might to take her down. She bashed her elbow into the side of her opponent, placing the strike and winning the match. The attendant of the mat awarded eleven the victory, and then it was your turn to step onto the mat. 

It was a girl from seven, and you stood her down, trying to have the confidence from before flow through your veins. She looked strong, and her shoulders squared up, her hands raising in defense. You copied her movements, but didn’t attack first. She had expected you to, but you didn’t really know what you were doing. You’d not been trained for this. 

After waiting long enough, she came at you, watching you back up, she was confused… you were a career, weren’t you? Why did you back away? She tried it again, and you stood your ground this time, but had been engaged. She wrapped her arms around your middle, trying to use her own weight to drag you down. You didn’t sink, but instead pushed back, your strength easily taking her over, especially since she wasn’t expecting it. You had her down, but you technically had to make a strike for it to count as a win. You raised a fist, aiming towards her chest, but then stopped. What were you doing? You’d never hurt someone like this before… You promised yourself you weren’t going to change, but here you were, the circumstances completely unnecessary, and you’re about to punch a girl that’s trapped beneath you. You haven’t even set foot in that arena and already you’re different from the nonviolent and innocent girl you were before you got on that train. You’ll be completely corrupted by the time the first canon goes off if you don’t stop yourself.

So you stop yourself.

 You get up off of her, and help her up, not caring if a victory is awarded or not. This isn’t the games. And you’re not here to make enemies. She doesn’t say a word, she just nods to you and walks away. You do the same, running off to find Lukas and the rest of the careers. As it would happen, they weren’t far. 

Surrounding the corner of the mat, they had been watching you, arms crossed as they listened to the words of Estelle. You can’t understand what it is, but she seems to not enjoy anyone’s company, and you don’t think she’s fond of you at all. You don’t blame her for being bitter, this whole thing is a cause to be bitter, but you wished she did a better job at hiding it like the rest of you. Besides, she’s district one, wasn’t she supposed to like these games? Wasn’t she supposed to be thriving in her element?

“Mercedes Blythe,” she scoffed, looking at the others and chuckling before turning back to you with a mocking expression. “More like Mercy Blythe.”

The others chuckled a bit, but only because they assumed it was a joke. They had all been in a joking mood, so to have anything break that was not predicted. 

“No real harm done until the arena, I respect it,” Copelin said, reaching his fist towards you for you to bump yours against it. You did sheepishly, ducking your head as you stepped off the mat and into the group. 

“She’s probably just hiding her secret skills,” Rodey nudged you, his smile a nice contrast from the sneer you’d received from Estelle. “Ain’t that right, Mercy?”

“She’s got more to her than meets the eye,” Lukas responded on your behalf, just like he’s done all day. 

It’s common knowledge by now that you don’t like to speak, whatever the reason is, they don’t really dwell on it. They just ignore that fact and have a good time anyway. The careers seem to be the only ones enjoying themselves, as it were. They feel the most prepared, they sometimes forget they’re here to die.

Maybe that’s why they’re happier. They know that they have done everything in their own power to prepare themselves, so they won’t waste their last days sulking. 

“I think it’s time to wrap up,” Freeda notices the attendants ushering tributes away from certain stations, letting the lines finish up before closing the facility. Since you all are standing around, you make your way to the exit, letting the woman with a tablet check you all out. 

The careers go their separate ways, and you sigh in relief after turning down a hall. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said, even though he was probably more tired and worn than you were. You both had visited nearly every station you could, working on your strengths and weaknesses alike, in order to gain the upper hand. Finnick’s advice would pay off, but it would cost you both a sore muscle or two. “You did good.”

“Thanks,” you were happy that no one had found out about your stutter yet. You figured that was a step for another day of training. Maybe it would even be a good idea to hold off until it was absolutely necessary. Like the interviews. Those would be coming up soon. You didn’t even want to think about those. “A-and also, for helping m-me talk.”

He knew what you meant, Thank you, Lukas… for being my voice when I’m so scared to use my own. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

-

Dinner was short, and neither Finnick nor Arbin bothered to show up. Mags signed an excuse to you, about them taking care of some things, but it was far too vague to be believable. You didn’t fuss about it, going upstairs after and looking to get ready for bed. They had set out a beautiful pair of silken pajamas for you on the bed, the fabric being an icy blue in color. It nearly matched the light color of the walls in your room. 

You were about to change when came a knock on the door. 

“C-come in.”

And when the door opened, Arbin let himself in, a sneaky smile on his face. 

“Hello, dearest,” he waltzed in, holding something of a black fabric in his hands. “I bring good news. We may have found a solution to your swimming debacle.”

He held out to you a black one piece swimsuit and clapped his hands. 

“As it turns out, it’s not against the rules for a mentor to privately book the pool area.”

You sighed. You were so tired. Perhaps this would have been a better idea tomorrow… but tomorrow is testing day. You suppose that tonight is as good a night as any to try and get into the water. 

You gently took the material from him, thanking him under your breath before kicking off your shoes. 

“Once you’ve changed, go into the west wing pool on the first floor. Finnick is waiting for you,” he finished his information ramble and bid you goodnight, giving a smile and a nod before leaving and closing your door. 

You fell back onto your bed in exasperation before doing as he said. 

It was colder at night, and the swimsuit made it more evident. You had your arms around yourself as you searched the first floor, careful not to make your way into the district one housing. You didn’t want to accidentally run into Estelle and have her cut off your head prematurely. 

When you found the pool, you relaxed a bit, or at least you did until you turned the corner. Your steps slowed when you saw the water. The shallow end read four feet, and the deep end read twelve. 

He’d already been in the water, doing laps as he waited for you to come down. The splashing and sloshing of the water imitated small waves, and it scared you. He wouldn’t let you drown, you know that, but you didn’t trust yourself to even step into the pool. It was too intimidating, and every memory came rushing back, trying to hold you from taking another step… but then he appeared at the edge of the pool, breaking you out of your trance. He leaned up on his elbows, holding himself on the concrete to look at you, scared as hell. His eyes were calming though, the sea green and the long wet lashes they peered through. 

He shook his head to rid himself of some of the water, looking back to you and this time speaking. 

“You coming in?” 

You hadn’t dropped your arms from their place of security around your body. It was far too alarming to even be in a room with this much open water. 

“I-I don’t want t-to.”

“Too bad,” he hoisted himself up and out of the pool, taking a step towards you, only for you to take two steps back. “Do you trust me?” 

“I would s-say yes, but I t-think it’s a trap.” 

He rolled his eyes, holding a hand out to you. You looked at him honestly, showing your distrust but also sheer anxiety. He still held it out, and would likely not drop it until you took it. 

“I won’t let anything bad happen, I swear.” His eyes told the truth, and so did his words. He’s your mentor, he’s trying to help you. 

“Okay,” you took his hand, letting him drag you closer to the water. He noticed you became unmoving when he dropped down onto the first pool step. 

“We’re gonna take it slow, yeah? One step at a time.”

You nodded, letting out your inhaled breath and trying to let yourself relax. His job is to help you, he won’t hurt you. 

Your hand shook within his as he pulled you to step onto the first level, and then the second, lastly, letting you stand on the third. The water was to your mid thigh, and it was cold. Not quite like the ocean, but cold enough to send chills all over your body. He let you stand there, getting accustomed to the feeling of the water before tugging gently at your hand again. 

He tried pulling you off the last step, where the water would rise above your hips, but you snatched your hand away, unable to take the last leap without that horrid tightness in your throat and the threat of panic in your chest. 

“Hey, look at me,” he took your hand back, not pulling yet, but just gaining your attention. “You wanna hear a joke?”

You understood right away that he was attempting to ease the tension you held, and you wanted more than anything to lose it, but even the thought of that was strange and foreign. You made up your mind. You’d agreed to this, and you had come down to the pool. You had to try and cooperate. 

You nodded, keeping your eyes on him and trying to ignore the subtle pressure of the water that completely overtook your legs. Should they get swept from under you, you’re certain you’ll never touch water higher than that of a bathtub ever again. 

“Why is the ocean so friendly?” He asked, momentarily unfocused as he sank you further into the water. You complied, stiff and anxious as the water got higher with the last step. You kept your breathing even, and avoided looking at the small sloshes against your body from the movement. 

“Why?” 

“Because it waves,” he chuckled. He genuinely thought it was funny, which was ultimately the thing you found amusing. You laughed too, feeling more relaxed by his help. 

“That’s t-terrible,” you muttered, but he caught you in a giggle, so obviously he felt that your statement wasn’t true. 

“If it was terrible you wouldn’t be laughing.”

“I’m laughing at y-you.”

“Sure you are.”

He didn’t mention the fact that you were now several inches deeper in the water, nor that he was slowly dragging you along until the water was around your shoulders. 

“T-tell me another o-one.”

He nodded, trying to think his best and come up with something. He smiled with a ducked head before looking back up, smirking to you before he tried it out. 

“Why is the beach so confident?” 

“Why?” 

He had to try not the laugh while delivering the punchline. He didn’t even find it that funny, but he was struggling to hold it together, just because of how stupid it sounded. 

“Because it’s always one hundred percent shore.”

You had to fight to urge to roll your eyes. Who taught him these? He couldn’t have come up with them on his own, you refused to believe that… but they weren’t so bad, and you found it endearing that he was attempting to soothe your nerves about the water- The water!

You looked around you and realized how deep you’d gotten, arms flailing back in an attempt to pull you back to shallower waters. You almost lost control when you felt a hand at the small of your back, stopping you from getting away. 

“Hey, hey,” He grabbed your arm with his other hand, rubbing small circles over it to try and calm your erratic breathing. You had tears coming back to your eyes, the fear of being held beneath this water at the front of your mind. It was all you could think about. All you could feel. The memory of your lungs burning made it even harder to breathe, but he grabbed under your chin, trying to make you reach his eyeline. “It’s okay, just breathe. You’re okay, don’t worry.” 

You saw the sea green again, and it made the water seem less scary. The feeling of it around you was still evident, but more peaceful, less restraining. His eyes were the color of the waters back home, and those were much more harsh and dangerous than this. You took deeper breaths, slower and in time with him. 

“That’s it, see?” He was unsure of how good of an idea this had been. Why was he doing all of this anyway?

Well, he reminds himself, if you want a victor, this is the special work that goes into it.

Except it’s not. Because, understand, he already has the perfect shot at a victor. Lukas is strong, smart, handsome, and good at making friends. He shows much promise, not only in his physical skill, but in his wit. People in the capitol could quite literally start betting on him if they wanted to, but Finnick can’t do that. 

Of course, the question that begs to be asked is… why not?

Finnick is selfish. It’s why he promised himself a victor in the first place, knowing the cost it comes at. He’s competitive, and it stands to why he’s still alive, and not trapped in the memory of the sixty-fifth arena. Most of all, Finnick has chosen a favorite this year, regardless of skill or wit, and it isn’t Lukas.

You’re an excellent tribute, too. He knows it. He sees the strength and intelligence. He sees the hesitant will of someone who understands what they are fighting for. Not fighting to win, not fighting for the attention and glory, but fighting to live. 

If only he can fix this one problem, maybe the other will sort itself out. You’re quite charming, and rather sweet. He deems it very possibly that the stutter may go unspoken about as long as the cards are played right. 

“That’s good, you’ve got it.”

The more steps you took forward, the closer you were to being submerged, but he wasn’t going to let you sink. His hand still on your back had stayed in the same spot, just for safety and for comfort. Your hands grabbed at his forearms now, taking steps of your own without his lead, until you were as low as you could get without swimming. 

“I c-can’t swim yet,” you told him, and he nodded, already proud of how much progress had been made, considering Lukas told him you hadn’t gone above two inches of water in years. 

“That’s alright.” He shook his head, completely silencing any doubts you had. He was helping you, not forcing you. He did have an idea, though. “You wanna go for a ride?”

Your face screwed up in confusion, until he turned his back to you, bending his knees to get lower. You thought it childish at first, but didn’t hesitate after that. What could possibly be considered childish anymore? Anything fun from this point forward would be just that. Fun, that distracted from the reason you were here, from the reason you even stood in this water. 

Climbing onto his back, hooking your arms over his shoulders, you felt calm, but happy. He swam forward, taking you into deeper water, but you never sank beneath the surface. Your laugh echoed in his ears every time his head was above the water, and he enjoyed the sound. It was pleasant, and so were you. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he actually bonded with a tribute. Not as just a mentor, but as a friend. He was young, but sometimes forgot it was okay to still make friends. In this line of work, people come and go. He hopes he can keep his promise to himself, and he prays that it will be in the way he wants. 

“My own p-personal seahorse,” you exclaimed, enjoying the slight splashes of mist around your arms every time he paddled further. 

“Is that all I am, now?” He said in a mockingly sad tone, setting you down once the waters were shallow enough to stand in comfortably. “Could’ve sworn I was a famous victor.”

“That was y-years ago, t-times are changing.”

“How sad. I guess you’re gonna be the next big thing then, huh?” 

“Guess-so.”

And now he wants more than anything for it to not be a joke. 

-

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn

[jasperaptor]

post-episode 9 rambles (this might be my favourite episode so far) 🎣

Like. A whole episode, entirely carried by the immaculate chemistry between the whole gang? I'm gonna just ramble for a sec about my thoughts so...

I just love how simple the setup is. Everyone is stuck in one room and we just watch how they hang out. And they were all so goofy!! Like...

Just. Doing random shit with your friends and laughing about way too hard is just so real and down to earth and relatable. I don't have the words but watching this episode just made me really happy and I'm hoping to finally be able to do some writing. Wich like... I've been struggling with portraying their group dynamic and this episode was basically a master class on just that.

Am I the only one who thought that call was sus? Maybe it's just me overthinking because I really want that background info on Takaaki. Speaking of Takaaki...

I know that this wasn't intended like that but... Look at the way he looks at Hiro T-T They make me F E E L things okay. I love him so much. They're literally golden retriever boyfriend and cat also boyfriend. IT'S CANON TRUST ME BRO

Also just happy Tsunehiro. All that talk about how he feels about fishing? I just. Idk. I said this before but it was just so relatable. Not about fishing specifically, but doing something tedious and feeling that content kind of tired? Yeah. That hit home for me somehow.

I just kept finding myself thinking "Yeah. I've been there. I felt like that before" over and over and over again. Even in the smaller moments. For example when they all start eating together and Arua is still at the stove. He doesn't feel disconnected from them. When we focus on him we can still hear the other in the background, just like he is and. Yeah. I've been there. Standing in the kitchen, cooking for friends while they talk and goof off and I'm just content inhabiting the same space. I've sat in a car and everyone is talking over each other and I just realize how fun this moment is. And ugh. They just feal so tangible to me.

The episode was also just plain funny imo. The three loan sharks showing up? And they pull groceries out of literally nowhere?? It's so unserious and I love it. Also love the loan sharks (do we know their names??)

Yeah. I think... That's all the immediate rambles I have. Definetly my favourite episode so far. I fucking love how this episode is basically a character study.

That being said... This episode also established their current status quo. Everyone feels good and content. I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. The whole "I have only two years to live"-thing is just hovering above everything and the longer they don't address it the more it stresses me out.

Because yes. They're friends and close and enjoy each other's company... But one thing I noticed this episode is that Hiro doesn't call Hana and Takaaki by their given names. He still calls them Tsutsujimori and Ayukawa, while they call him Tsunehiro (or just Hiro in Takaaki's case). It feels very symbolic to me of how he's not ready to really let them in yet. But I don't know if this has been a consitent thing or not. It just stood out to me when the three of them were talking.

I really love this show man so thank you for indulging my first impression rambles. Now, I feel like there's a cute missing scene here where Takaaki and Hiro go home together after this. We'll see if I can finally get over my block and finish another One-Shot.. Wish me luck! 🎣🎣

[tzyuki]

[ 김규빈 ] ONE & ONLY ꒰ K.GV x F!READER

032. banana team

IN WHICH ✶ — Rumors about Y/n pursuing a Zerobaseone member backstage at music bank start floating around the media after she and ZB1 member, Kim Gyuvin are seen talking behind in one of the episodes of ‘Eunchaes Star Diary’. Some netizens believe it and some don’t, some hated her for touching his shoulder and some didn’t care. Y/n went live to debunk the rumors, saying she wasn’t interested in a relationship at the time. The thing was, the rumors were true. She secretly was pursing Kim Gyuvin, or at least she wanted to. Ever since she first saw him backstage at M Countdown when ‘Love Killa’ team got to perform she was starstruck. She saw him at the vending machine and wished him luck in ‘Boys Planet’. She actually never had watched an episode of the survival show at all, she said it would be too painful for her, but that was the night she started to watch and most importantly, vote for Kim Gyuvin.

m.list — previous — next

jayjay note : btw tzyuki nation 😭😭 i moved blogs to @yizmiu 💔 i was gonna make an announcement after this gyuvin smau was over but seeing that my moots and activity on this account is dead i’ll js say it here that after this is over i’ll officially stop posting on this account💔💔 ive also decided to drop the ej alias (rip emo jay) but i just want to start fresh and just go by my usual nickname (jayjay , jay) 😝

taglist (closed) 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ @yerimse @100203s @str0l0gy @sieuneo @enhaz1 @weoris @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @jiawji @trsrina @esc6pism @aerivrs @jiaant11 @latriii @annoyingbitch83 @pwarkj @sleepingisweak @beomibeom @seosracha @sparklingsjy @ahnneyong @mioujon @whippedforbeomgyu @wonqr @lunavixia @y7n2394-ze @wtfhyuck @lcv3lies @mangowonyo @nyujjan @chaeryvips @tocupid @chanlixed @svtglitch @wonluvrbot @wondering-out-loud @igotkpoops @jeongintwt @samvagejkflxhrt t @daydreamer5006 @loverickyyy @andsjun @soobiverse @ivrousae @akari-saka13 @loverb0yz @alwayswook @bobariki @bbangricz @j4dorebooks @dimplewonie @redm4ri @moonlightjungwon @enhapocketz @gunwookiez @catsyoon @hyeoniez @hoey2k

[ovobawrites]

𝐵𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽: 𝐸𝓅𝒾𝓈𝑜𝒹𝑒 𝒪𝓃𝑒 ♡ 𝐹𝒷𝑜𝓎𝓈 𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓈

disclaimer: this has already been posted on ao3 and quotev, i'm just reposting this beach episode special as a promo for the fic. after this is all my previous author notes.

this is a fem!reader and also a half chinese!reader insert.

next

When Crowley invited you to the beach trip he had planned for the 1st and 2nd years, you were... reluctant to go. Your reticent nature did not mean that you were unaware of the fact that Crowley... wasn't the most caring person for his students. Crewel being the sole supervisor on the trip was the only reason you decided to attend. 

You had been informed that only the Housewardens, their vices and a person of their choosing would be present on the trip. Likely due to Crowley's inherent need to save as much thaumarks[1] as possible. Point is, you were going on a beach trip. The problem was that it would be just you and at least 14 boys plus Crewel at the beach. You were going to die.

And the worst part? Due to Crowley wanting you all to have an 'experience', the group would be taking a bus from the magic mirror to get to a specific, magically protected resort in the Sunshine Lands[2]. This resort was small enough that you would be living in each other's space for a good few days. But you shrugged, packed your bags and resolved to never tell your brother about this. All you could hope for was a peaceful trip, nice weather and no murders. And if you made sure to stuff your qiánkūn dài with fúlù for self-protection? That was just for your some peace of mind and nothing more.

The walk to the mirror hall would have been quite lovely and peaceful for you if it wasn't 5 o'clock in the morning! Getting up that early was the worst experience you had ever faced in your life... not to mention the fact that it was so dark outside you almost tripped over the steps by the door! And yet... you still woke up 30 minutes earlier than you needed to for your skincare routine, makeup, and routine anxious bag check. At least you had gotten more than 2 hours of sleep?

Crowley had informed you that the others had to wear either their PE or dorm uniforms for the trip, but since he was oh-so generous, he let you choose your outfit. Dressing for the heat was something you were used to, deciding on packing a wide-brimmed hat and heart-shaped sunglasses in your draping cardigan with customised sleeve space. Underneath that, you decided on wearing a slightly short, pleated skirt in (f/c) and a cropped t-shirt to have some modesty. Even if your swimsuits were a lot more risqué, your outfits were definitely less so for the sake of your dignity.

To get to the mirror hall, you had to trudge past the overgrown plants you were 'working' on taming, and then had to drag your feet to the long (and still slightly confusing) walk to the dark mirror. Walking in the room, you could immediately see how the different dorms prepared for this trip. Riddle and Trey were helping Cater bring his bags closer to the portal, the poor man looking dead on his feet and still half asleep, nearly squashing Riddle under his weight by leaning on him. Meanwhile, Leona, actually asleep, was being dragged by poor Ruggie, the hyena having strapped the man to one of their wheeled suitcases. 

Ruggie's quite strong actually! I wonder how he deals with both the heavy bag on his back and the weight from Leona?

Vil and Rook were by far, the most prepared of the group, the two of them having their makeup done absolutely perfectly, chatting as if it was an afternoon meeting and not the most asinine hour you could imagine being awake at. Jamil struggled with a sleepy Kalim, though he too had shadows under his eyes denoting a clear lack of sleep, not that you could judge. Meanwhile, Azul, Jade and Floyd seemed perfectly fine with this torturous wake-up time, though they all gave off movements showing them to be slightly groggy. Idia was completely awake and huddling in a corner while Ortho tried to comfort him. And finally, Malleus and Lilia chatted with a healthy air, with Lilia having Silver hefted over his shoulder like some sort of comically large sack of potatoes. 

I am going to die on this trip, if not from fatigue, then from the amount of chaos that is going to be caused by this group.

The boys turned to look at you as your heeled boots clacked against the hard floor, with numerous comedic reactions to your rather... light luggage. That is, if they were even awake enough to notice you.

"Are you going to be wearing that outfit for the entire trip?" Vil raised an eyebrow at you, arms crossed judgmentally.

You smiled like a knife. Let them worry or think you're stupid, you do not have the emotional capacity to deal with this right now without making a mess of things. 

But before Vil edged closer to the line that would result in death from a demolished ego, Crewel walked into the room. The professor carried the pouch you gifted him, along with his signature whip. The man had shed his normal fur coat for a black and white striped button up, yet his style was as impeccable as always. The teacher grinned at you, a kind look in his eyes as he took in your clearly exhausted demeanour.

"I see we brought matching pouches, dear puppy. I thank you once again for making it so much easier for me to pack for this trip. Plus," He winked conspiratorially, "You've enabled me to bring as many outfits and shoes as I want."

AHHHHH HE'S BEING SO KIND TO ME!!!! WHAT TO SAY WHAT TO SAY!!!

"It was truly no problem, Professor." You returned his kind look with one of admiration and respect. "I'm simply glad that you like it!" 

Unfortunately, the two of you could not start a compliment-off due to the urgings of one angry, red dorm leader. 

"Professor Crewel, we really should be on our way now. If I recall correctly, the Headmage said that we must be on time to catch the bus, and as according to Queen of Heart's rule #375, 'You must not ever be late for a very important date'."

...That one's just common sense no?

Crewel looked slightly ticked off for a moment, but went back to looking like a calm and collected teacher so quickly you almost thought it was an illusion.

With a clap of his hands, he ordered, "Line up pups! Make sure you are with your dorm members and pass through the mirror." He cracked his whip menacingly. "And if any of you wander off in the time it takes me to mark you all present, you will be dealing with a punishment suiting such beastly behaviour!"

Azul and Jade snapped their heads up at that and quickly grabbed onto Floyd, knowing the mischief he would get up to. Thankfully for the other dorms, their troublemakers were either fast asleep or too tired to cause even a speck of mischief. Trey went up to the mirror and stepped in with their bags in hand, while Riddle struggled to get himself and Cater through without falling over. Next up was Ruggie, who unceremoniously dumped Leona through the portal, who woke up with a yowl, then snickered and stepped through. The Octavinelle kids walked in the portal, Jade and Floyd carrying the bags while Azul took wrote something down in a small black book.

...Is he studying? Or is he analysing his fellow Housewardens... either way it's kinda creepy...

Jamil woke Kalim up and got his charge through the mirror, then picked up their numerous bags with a sigh and struggled to get past the portal. Rook and Vil, as put together as always, walked through with no problem despite their heavy-looking bags. Ortho had to drag Idia through the portal, his older brother carrying their bulky bags while seemingly quite concerned by the amount of people in the room. Finally, Malleus and Lilia went through the portal, luggage floating behind them while Lilia kept Silver slung over his shoulder. Crewel ticked through names on a clipboard with a sigh, shaking his head in disappointment. He looked at you with a small smile then gestured for you to walk through. The cold sensation of the portal embraced you as you felt yourself transported through the dark mirror.

The first thing you felt when you arrived in the Sunshine Lands was a stifling heat against your skin. The second was your eardrums dying from a loud, shrill noise. A bus screeched past you, blowing your hair into your face, before making a sharp u-turn to stop right in front of your group, blowing plumes of dust in its wake. If that noise wasn't enough to wake you all up, the slam of the doors opening definitely did. Crewel appeared through the portal just then, and walked up to the bus with no care for the groups shocked demeanour.

Both Leona and Ruggie gripped their ears in pain, Azul had hidden behind his bags and the twins, meanwhile Lilia seemed to be delighted and was shaking Silver like some sort of stuffed toy. You could catch a glimpse of their conversation:

"-could make such loud noises for the light music club! I do want to show off my heavy metal skills!"

"-right, Fa-Lilia"

Was he about to say father? Or something more offensive? I wonder... Lilia has often acted too old for his age...

You decided to walk past the boys to get a comfortable seat at the front of the bus, fearing getting sick during the long ride. Your calm demeanour and Crewel's glare from inside the bus made the boys scramble to put their bags in the trunk and race up the steps to prepare for a long trip.

As the bus's ghost driver started revving the engine, Leona settled in the back of the bus, lying down like a corpse, head on Ruggie's lap. The poor boy was being used as a pillow again, but didn't seem to mind to much as he scrolled through his phone. Riddle, Trey and Cater sat right at the front of the bus, a row behind Crewel who looked too tired to put up with questions from Riddle. Cater had settled down next to you while Riddle and Trey sat down on the other side of the bus, when he asked:

"Can-" He yawned, "Can I use your shoulder as a pillow?"

Riddle, hearing this, glared warningly at Cater, who didn't notice. You gently smiled and nodded, too tired to consider the impropriety of his actions. It was too bad that you were typically the type who was unable to go to sleep after waking up for the day. So you just closed your eyes, leaned your head against the back of your seat and listened to the hushed conversations of an early morning.

Trey and Riddle talked quietly about their plans for the week, while Floyd, Jade and Azul seemed to be intrigued by this method of transportation. You could hear Floyd cheering at each bump the bus went over, escalating in volume until Azul and Jade shushed him. There was a tiredly registered thought passing through your mind: a hope that they wouldn't throw up from motion sickness. Cater's head on your shoulder was a warm spot in the cool, air-conditioned bus that helped ground you, the slight sounds of breathing creating a rhythm for you to listen to.

You faintly heard the sounds of shuffling movements, likely from Jamil, who had Kalim's head on his shoulder while the shorter boy insisted that Jamil should lean his head on top of the other's. A sigh and some faint whispering before the two seemingly fell asleep. Malleus talked to Lilia in hushed, excited tones, the scratching of nails against a scalp as Lilia combed his fingers through Silver's hair while the first year napped. Vil and Rook seemed to have prepared for this trip, the sounds of pillows being taken out of bags and Vil asking Rook to make sure his sleeping mask is perfectly positioned. An obliging sound from the other and then the hushed noises of two more people falling asleep.

Crewel seemed to be working on something, judging by the tired sighs and the noise of pen against paper. From what you remembered, the poor professor was overwhelmed by third years requesting apprenticeships in the alchemical field, he was probably filling out those request forms, judging by the frustrated whispers coming from the front of the bus. Ortho was buzzing in anticipation, talking quietly to Idia, with notes of some video game's soundtrack floating over from their side of the bus. 

The bus was nearly silent, the only noises being from the Diasomina, Trey and Riddle, and the Ignihyde group. The bus's engine was silent, the small bumps it went over feeling less and less jarring as time went on. It felt like being rocked in a cradle like a child, a comforting movement that calmed you even further. Before you knew it, you had succumbed to your exhaustion and fallen into a restless sleep.

You slowly woke up from your impromptu nap, hearing louder conversations from behind you. The weight on your shoulder was gone. As you blinked your eyes and stretched slightly, you glanced over to where Cater was before. 

"Oh, you're up!" Cater smiled at you from next to Trey, and then was quickly shushed. 

You stood up, curious, and walked across the aisle to where they were, balance as impeccable as always. You cooed as you leaned over Cater's shoulder, seeing a sleeping Riddle curled up slightly on Trey's lap. The man in question looked slightly tired as well, but smiled at you anyways. 

"Worried about him waking up?" You leaned on Cater even more, trying to examine the sleeping dorm leader's features. "I thought he was gonna stay up for the whole trip." 

Riddle was so adorable while asleep! The Housewarden's doll-like features were enhanced by his calmer face. Looking at him, you were suddenly struck by how young he seemed. For all Riddle acted mature, it was clear that he was still childish. And now, curled up against Trey's lap, he reminded you once more of your juniors back home. It made you want to coddle him even more.

"Riddle's used to sleeping and waking up at very strict times." Trey told you in a hushed voice, "His body is probably adjusting to the decrease in hours, so he's practically dead to the world."

Cater jumped in. "Oh, but he's a total monster in the early mornings! One time, he collared three dorm members for not providing the right sugar for his tea!"  

"That's..." You were a bit concerned by how natural Cater seemed to mention this. 

But before you could continue this hushed conversation with Trey and Cater, a loud voice suddenly yelled from the back.

"Oi~ miss koi fish[3]! You're awake now?! Over here!" Floyd waved at you before being hurriedly shushed by Jade.

You sighed, and decided to walk over to the Octavinelle kids, giving Trey and Cater an apologetic glance. Knowing Floyd, he'd probably yell for your attention until Riddle woke up. It probably isn't the best choice to ignore him, especially if you want to keep your head on your shoulders.

When you stood up from your position on Cater's shoulder, the bus sped over a large road bump, causing many to knock their heads against their seats or the ceiling. Trey cradled Riddle from the blow, knocking against the seat in front of him while Cater hit his head against the roof. You, a master of balance and too short to have your head brush the ceiling, simply went over to Floyd with no problem, the poor eel having a wounded look on his face from being brained by the bus.

"Ouch... Koi fishie, my head hurts..." 

"Oh no!" You smiled comfortingly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Floyd flashed a pair of disconcertingly cute puppy eyes. "I want a kiss!" he yelled.

The bus went silent, Riddle turned slightly in Trey's lap but went back to sleep. He sighed, relieved. Idia was now huddled against a seat in terror while Lilia and Malleus suddenly looked very interested in your conversation. Leona's ear twitched but he continued to nap, still on Ruggie's lap. The hyena had jolted at the loud noise, but went back to sleep just as quickly, curled over Leona in a position that was definitely not good for his back. Jade sighed, smiling at you sheepishly. Azul just looked exhausted by Floyd's behaviour.

Kalim glanced over, momentarily interested, but went back to showing Jamil something on his phone, which his retainer obligingly payed attention to. Cater was giving you a knowing grin while Vil and Rook seemed to be ignoring this conversation. Crewel, thankfully, was napping, headphones on so that he couldn't hear any of your conversations. Floyd continued to look at you beseechingly. You had blanched at first, shocked by his audacity, but decided complying to Floyd's request wouldn't hurt. 

You leaned in and pecked him on the forehead. "Better?"

Floyd looked disappointed, cheeks slightly flushed. "...I want a real kiss."

Jade suddenly spoke up in warning tone, "Floyd." He smiled threateningly. "You don't want to harass our senior, do you?"

His brother responded quietly, turning over to his twin. The two started whispering furiously, making you give up on even trying to talk to them. You decided to sit next to Azul, who had found sanctuary by sitting in the aisle opposite the twins. The Housewarden smiled politely at you, quickly closing the book he was scribbling in with a snap. 

You momentarily glanced at the suspicious book, and Azul's nervous behaviour didn't do him any favours. The octopus was sweating slightly, so pityingly, you decided to spare him an interrogation. 

"Azul, do you happen to know the time?"

The man sighed in relief, and replied with a glance to a pocket-watch he pulled out from his dorm uniform. "It's currently 7:30."

You thanked him and then realised, with an impeding sense of doom, that you would have to spend another 45 minutes on the bus with this group of... informal men. It really was a good thing that you decided to never tell your brother about this trip. Bored out of your mind, with Jade and Floyd still whisper-fighting, you remembered something very important.

"Azul." The boy perked his head up from his phone, giving you his full attention. "If I recall, you happen to be a part of the board game club, yes? Maybe we could play a card game or two while waiting to arrive at our destination!"

Azul blinked, but then a wide, menacing grin took over his face. "Yes, let's! I do happen to have a deck of cards here with me." He rummaged through a small bag, then glanced towards Idia, who squeaked. "Idia! Would you like to play a game of poker with (Y/N) and I?"

Ortho answered for him, flying over with stars in his eyes. "Big brother would love to! Can I play as well?"

You smiled at your adorable junior. "Of course!"

Lilia floated over, Silver now slumped over his bag while Malleus made sure he was strapped in with a seatbelt to not fall off. "May Malleus and I play too? Your human games are quite... intruiging." He flashed his teeth at Azul and Idia, who had been dragged over by Ortho, causing the two to pale in fear. 

You answered for them, "Sure! That makes... 6 players." You were very excited to play such a fun game with your friends, and started buzzing in excitement. Luckily for you, you had learnt to pack your belongings very tightly in your sleeves so they wouldn't fall out from you shaking in joy.

Azul cleared his throat. "Alright then, would anyone else like to play?"

Kalim jumped up, raising his hand like a kid in class. "Ooh! Are you playing a card game? I'd love to play, what about you Jamil?"

His retainer sighed slightly, then shrugged. "Sure, why not."

Jade and Floyd had stopped their argument by now, and glanced over, slightly intrigued. 

"I'd like to play but..." Floyd pouted. "Azul and Jade always cheat! I can never win..."

Jade chuckled, "Now, why would you say that Floyd? We would never cheat with such distinguished people. We are perfectly trustworthy!"

Idia muttered something under his breath and Jade turned to him, movements uncanny. "Is there something you'd like to say, dear Idia?" 

The Housewarden of Ignihyde froze. "No-not at all!" He looked like he was about to hide under the chairs in fear, so you reached over to pat him on the back for comfort.

Rook and Vil shook their heads when Azul prompted them for an answer, and Trey and Cater couldn't play due to the volatile bomb on Trey's lap. Leona opened one of his eyes and glared in warning, Ruggie still sleeping over him.

"Then that makes 8 players. Does everyone know the rules or should I explain them?" Azul asked. "Oh, and by the way, I will take on the responsibility of being the dealer first."

Malleus looked at Azul. "If you'd please, fellow dorm leader, I would be very grateful for an explanation of the conditions for this game."

A line of sweat dripped down the side of Azul's face. "Of course, now, pay attention since I will only explain this once!"

The poker game was an... experience to say the least. Azul had won the first game, though not without a valiant fight from Jamil, Idia and Jade. Lilia, Malleus and Ortho were learning the ropes and wrapping their heads around the rule. Meanwhile, Floyd and Kamil were too busy trying to master card tricks, where you move cards via sleight of hand that you tried to teach them how to do. Of course, this was all part of your master plan. You categorised each player's reactions to the 'better' and 'worse' hands they were dealt, and very quickly, you could accurately guess what they had in their hand. Counting cards was a trick you were taught a long time ago by your grandmother, who was a master at diplomacy. She had chosen to either beat or lose to an opponent in a game to achieve the outcome she wanted, and taught you and your mother how to do the same.

This resulted in you testing out your strategy for the second game, in which Jamil and Jade insisted that Kalim and Floyd pay attention. Idia won this round, though Lilia had quickly mastered the game and gave his poor, shy classmate a run for his money. Malleus was still struggling, and seemed to have horrible luck in these games, though his poker face was just as good as you'd expect from a Crown Prince. Jamil, Jade, Idia and Azul were also very good at hiding their feelings, though with the amount of practice you had from trying to guess your grandmother's expressions, they were no match for you.

And so, you put your plan into action for the third game. And the fourth.... and the fifth, before Azul had thrown the cards off of your makeshift table in a fit of rage. But before the boys could interrogate you on your, very suspicious, wins, the bus came to a halt. You took that opportunity to stick yourself to Crewel like glue, recounting the tales of your victory to the teacher who listened indulgently, a slight smile on his face.

Crewel congratulated you on showing those boys a bit of modesty, saying: "It's good that you took those pups down a peg, our students have always been quite proud... but the Housewardens are even more so. Perhaps I should have all of you play another game tonight..."

You smiled in reply. Seems like this trip was going to be more fun than you thought.

[1] Thaumarks is the official english translation of madol! Just an FYI for those who don't know [2] Sunshine Lands is a canon location that I got from this video, apparently, it's a map from the new chapter? It sounds and looks like a beach location so... [3] Miss koi fish/koi fishie is reader's nickname since they're very popular in China, and are bred to be very pretty! Koi may look similar to goldfish, but they are not of the same species so... I'm copping it for our dear reader.

Mini Theatre (Y/N), doing her best not to insult her friends: They're just quite... excitable, and they're risk takers so... that's a good quality. Plus they're not afraid to stand up for themselves... they're quite honourable! Her brother, reading these text messages: So you mean to say they're completely reckless trash who keep on getting into fights. (Y/N): Well... they also are very friendly, and are very different from the people back home! Her brother: Dearest sister, please start speedrunning the stages of grief you are in, I cannot deal with this constant denial.

so that was the first part of the beach ep! i'll be posting these every day until we reach the end of this mini arc. if you enjoyed the writing or are interested in the fic, you can read it on ao3 here, and on quotev here

[lumineary-arts]

Saw you ask about ppls AUs uh

Most of mine, admittingly, don't have designs yet. At least not drawn ones. Oops!!

But I can like?? Still ramble ig?

I also have a swap AU! I haven't posted a lot ab it, but it's called Solver Shift.

In it I put Sam in Cyns place. So the DDs have pink accents (wasn't comfortable using Doll and making them red, despite barely drawing DD armbands anyways - personally at least)

Some places I'm still unsure about, like idk whether Khan and Nori should be direct swaps with Ron & Tessa or should be put in Tessas parents position. If I go the latter idk who to put in Tessas place lol.

Ron and Tessa weren't actually ever romantically involved. They were just best friends, and were like "well we live together, we both kinda wanna know what having kids is like. So let's raise one together"; insert Nuke (N) being built. Tess survived a few years into his life, they built Cyn and then yada yada you know the story - dead mom

If it wasn't obvious by Ns name, the rail gun gets replaced by explosives. Thank Cyn for that, it was her idea. (They both take canonverse Uzi her engineering skills, but Cyn takes the more unhinged aspect of the personality.) - Nuke was like "we gotta do something about the DDs but idk what!" And Cyn, sparkly eyed and all, was like "Let's blow them up!"

I need to figure out some episode stand ins seeing as Cyn is younger but still sticks to N like glue. Beau takes Dolls place, they'd be Similar in age to Cyn (aka I gotta give them a body design F)

Oh also, as for befriending the DDs -- whilst Ep1 would run similar to canon; after that Thad/T would bond faster with the siblings than Uzi/Z bc they keep their canonverse personalities mostly!! So that's a reverse. Also T wouldnt want to kill the Prom unlike V, he just genuinely wants to make friends 😭

Don't ask me why Beau is at the prom, being younger and all. Might just make it an all years general prom rather than just the graduating class.

Next AU yay

Blood & Bats is a Vampire/Human AU! DDS and Solver Drones are vampires, you get the gyst!

N & Cyn are bio siblings, got separated bc of a divorce. Eventually both were separately taken away for shitty parenting, one of which caused Cyn to get vampirism one way or another. She also has DID/OSDD1 in this AU, the Solver conciousness isn't an evil entity here, just s Persecutor under the definition of "Misguided Protector who hurts as a form of protection" -- they're basically just a terrified vampire kid who thinks they're a danger and thinks isolation is the only way to keep their lived ones safe.

At some point the Elliots adopt N, later Cyn too. They also have previously adopted V and J. As time goes on, the alphabet trio one by one get turned by Cyn/Solver but they catch her after that so Tessa never is turned.

Uzi is basically a half vampire. Her mom was one, her dad wasn't. I don't remember the details atm, but I assume I've posted them somewhere in the tag on my account, but iirc Khan killed Nori in a moment of shock and survival instinct when finding out. Uzi doesn't know this. She finds out later after being turned herself (on accident!) - either through N or Cyn. Might do N to draw a parallel to the miscommunication between ep 2 and 3. Bc yeah Uzi would assume it's on purpose and he broke a promise.

Once they fix things, she finds out about her dad killing her mom and she runs away from home, terrified he might kill her too -- she crashes at the siblings place OR Thads place. I'm not sure yet. Both have pros and cons.

Khan cant easily access the manor, needs to be at an event for it. But the parents would want Uzi OUT asap. On Thads end; Teacher (Thad and Lizzy are either step or half siblings idk yet) and Ron (uncle, moved in after his sister died to help with the kids!) Would not let Khan take Uzi home sending as they see her terrified. They don't know what happened. But Khan has easier access bc he's friends with Teacher and obviously Lizzy is there which Uzi isn't thrilled about.

That's as far as I can remember the storyline -- there would still be parallels to some episodes! Ep 4 would still happen! Just some would survive! Rebecca would be found by one of the alphabet trio and turned to save her life. She's wheelchair bound after that. Sam survives but everyone thinks he got too high and doesn't believe him when he talks rambling about Uzis vampire form (Becca keeps it secret bc like if she says something it by extension endangers the other vampires in the school which now includes herself)

Intertwined/Inteetwinjng Codes (Me when I keep going back and forth between both titles) is a next gen AU thing. It started off as a joke,,, oh well

Kids.

These little shits are twins, they started this whole rabbithole. They would boot up sometime after Ep 4.

Later on their parents would want to program another kid & adopt one. Invert Annika and Zagi, except unexpected thing happened and they now have two babies to upload. Insert Raven.

Annika is currently undergoing redesign, ignore how basic she looks compared to her siblings lol.

As for the last 2 kids -- they didn't WANT any more, but when being sent to another colony they run into this toddler with a baby, who are being attacked by other DDs so they step in. Whilst they argue with N, Uzi gets the kids to safety. They were gonna keep the kids at their place for that night but Olicia did NOT want to sleep in the same place as a DD & a ton of half DDs -- so Thad gets called at 3am 😭 hes the cool uncle to their kids so yk

Next day it turns out adoption wing is full, so the siblings get passed around Thad, Uzis dad and Nuzi a ton (their own colony got killed so they cant go back there) until Ray gets attached to Nuzi, and you shouldn't separate a baby from its bonded adults. Seeing as he already lost the code related parents, they didn't want to risk further hurting his programming. So the siblings were basically accidentally adopted by Nuzi, despite Olivia not being happy about it at first. But she didn't want to separate from Ray.

That's mostly that. Theres not too much lore tbh. Just a silly half joke AU.

Also I have 6 siblings IRL so I tend to like give my ship kids many siblings 😭 so ignore that fact lol, just projecting

Then theres like 3 more Cyn centric AUs.

2 are pretty small.

DD!Cyn AU that has no name yet is just the AS uploaded a copy of Cyn/the Base Drones conciousness into a DD body and kept her with the trio. That'll lead to major Identity crisis once Cyn realizes technically she's a clone and her memories aren't *hers*. Aside from that: Cyn and J constantly have beef bc of J abusing N, Cyn tries to get her to stop but just faces verbal abuse herself in return :(

Shes also pretty distrusting of Uzi at first bc like!! Nobody except Cyn ever spent time with N!! That's a Drone getting close to her big brother which possibly could hurt him in the long run if she turns out to be like the other teammates!! (She eventually warms up to her)

Then there is Trapped/Hivemind AU. Literally just Cyn trapped in the hivemind, unable to reach her body for control. She can HEAR the other Solver Drones and the DDs, as they're all part of the hivemind. But she can't communicate with them. No matter how hard she tries.

Especially when she hears N she will call out to him but not get a response

So shes probably on the brink of losing it

Then there is "Dormant" Absolute Solver

Originally it was gonna be "The AS lost interest in Cyn as a host" and ig it still kind of is correct-? I need to go back and forth between certain aspects lol

But long story short, Cyn now got a separate body from the AS, doesn't know it killed Tessa & comes to C9 with J & "Tessa". The AS just brought her as a tool to manipulate N with, but she doesn't know that. Cyn joins the group from ep 6 onwards. Yay more PTSD for the child I guess :)

I havent written out ep 6 yet but I think she'd be with N & "Tessa" for that part.

Ep 7 she ends up on the side of the rocks with Uzi, and walks at a distance after being told to basically F off bc Uzi doesn't trust her now but Cyn is scared to be alone. Uzi notices Cyn isn't okay tho.

(Varian tangled reference yay)

Might I add that seeing Uzis wings and tail in ep 6 would have majorly triggered Cyns PTSD but shes unaware of why she feels so scared. So seeing Uzis tail the whole time definitely adds onto the stress =)

During the fight Uzi would reach out to Cyn through the hivemind, both girls calling out to N through Cyns body. The AS doesn't like that and forcefully shuts Cyn down. It has admin rights over her after all.

By the time Cyn wakes up, the AS is grabbing her to blackmail N after just having eaten Doll. Talking about how he wouldnt want to hurt his baby sister (hes aiming his laser cannon at the AS for context). Then it gets bored, drops Cyn and the regular program ensures. Except Cyn took Tessas gun and shoots herself free from the tentacles and runs to the pit after seeing Nuzi be pulled in. Whilst shes there trying to figure out how to get them back up (seeing as she cant use her Solver on them, or at least not Uzi. The show us so unclear if it works on DDs or not) the scene goes on.

I'm not sure yet who Cyn will stick with, probably N bc I've more ideas. BUT also I'm waiting for episode 8 to decide that for sure. Same with the ending. I got multiple bad ending ideas and also a good ending :) ep 8 will determine which one will be canon :)

Oh yeah Cyn lol -- both new and old ref bc of the oil canister I didn't draw in the new one yet. She still has it as you can see by the oil tubes!

Also the Good!Ending DAS!N would run a Daycare post canon. IC!N also runs one. I just like having N work with kids.

Most of these (I think all except DD & Trappsd Cyn) are tagged on my account probably with some more info

Idk if the tags will show up tho bc they don't always for me when searching for them :(

My pinned post has the tags listed I think

I think that was all of them hm (istg if I forgot one 💀)

OKAY THIS ONE'S SUPER IN DEPTH I'M HEAVILY INTRIGUED. MULTIPLE AU'S DUDE!! I LOVE IT, KEEP EM COMING. Loving the ideas behind the swap AU. Putting Sam in Cyn's place is unique, I hadn't heard anyone do that before!! Also the thing about using pink is fair, I did use red but I didn't keep that in mind! A vampire AU's extremely fitting for Murder Drones, being a substitute for the Solver/Disassembly model. Since ep. 4 is my favorite, I love the fact it'd still play out here. Also I must say I REALLY like the next gen AU designs??? I actually kinda wish we saw more next gen stuff, or maybe I'm just not looking in the right places. Either way I very specifically love Rexim and Raven's designs, I think the color choices are really speaking to me. ALSO ALL THE CYN FANS ARE GONNA BE EATING UP THE CYN-CENTRIC AU'S. But it seems like the poor girl could never catch a break. WONDERFUL WORK ALL AROUND!!