#it was like that episode in sex and the city when carrie was left through a note and she got almost arrested for smoking weed

[sehodreamsthoughts]

Today my friend and I were waiting for the bus when I saw they were opening an Oxxo right in front of the hospital so I was like "Wow, that's so good, if your... (Blank space because I decided to not say it) Ah...(Blank space again). Oh! If your grandparents were hungry while waiting for you in emergencies they could cross and eat something" and she said "oh you can't relate because you don't have grandparents" and I was like "oh you cunt, I even contained myself from saying your mother and your father because you don't have parents!"

[junkissed]

bad neighbor

member — neighbor!dino x f reader genre — smut, college au word count— 6.3k synopsis — pros of living next door to a frat house: your neighbor is really really hot. cons of living next door to a frat house: probably everything else. smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, fingering, lots of making out, facial (cum on face), semi public sex (hooking up at a party) content warnings — slightly introverted!reader, chan is in college but reader isn't: can be interpreted as older!reader but that's up to you tbh, mentions of weed & alcohol (chan & reader are both sober), cameos from cheol & hoshi hehe notes — thanks again to @onlymingyus for helping me get my brain in order <3 please reblog or send an ask if you enjoyed reading!! it means a lot to me and it helps me continue writing :) i hope you like this fic!

it's still early in the evening when the music starts.

the sound of voices and cars honking outside your house draws your attention away from the latest episode of your favorite new show. you get up and walk over to the window, peeking out through the curtain at the bright headlights beaming at you.

with a sigh you push the curtain closed again, heading into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. if tonight is like any of the other nights, then it'll be a long time before you fall asleep. hopefully the chamomile will help—is what you tell yourself every time. and every time, it doesn't help.

living in the same neighborhood as the frat houses from the nearby state university was certainly a choice, but the rent in the area was the cheapest in town and you didn't have many options left. with the fall semester coming up fast, every other apartment complex and condo in the city was already rented out. after moving in, you'd quickly discovered why the rent was so cheap: not because the house was in bad condition or because the location was inconvenient, but because of the parties. nearly every fucking night.

you might actually be impressed at how these college kids find the energy to party so often, if you weren’t so fed up with them. every friday and saturday night, and even sometimes during the week, at least one house on your block was throwing some kind of wild party.

by now you'd seen it all: drunk girls throwing up on your lawn, shirtless guys doing keg stands in the middle of the cul-de-sac, people making out literally everywhere. and yes, including that one time on halloween when you found two playboy bunnies having sex with spider-man in your backyard. how they got back there was anybody's guess, but from then on you’d started double and triple checking that your back gate was locked every night. 

tonight, it seemed that the festivities were being hosted at the house across the street. and the man behind it all? none other than lee chan, president of the fraternity and owner of the house.

you'd only officially met him twice, once on the day you'd moved in and once the day after. his red honda had pulled into his driveway at the same time you were unloading your boxes from the u-haul, and he'd jumped out and offered to help carry your furniture inside.

at the time it had felt like this was finally your meet-cute moment, the friendly and unfairly attractive boy-next-door that sweeps you off your feet with love at first sight. but once the final box had been moved, he'd simply given you a smile and a wave and went back inside his house. no cute bonding, no exchanging phone numbers, no asking to see each other again. he just left.

of course, that had been before you found out about the parties, and the shock you were in for that same night when people had started showing up in droves had nearly led you to call the cops. so the next morning you'd put on a nice outfit and went to knock on his door, and it was then that you found out more about the neighborhood you'd found yourself living in.

with the same polite tone he'd used yesterday, he'd been friendly and apologetic for the noise, promising that he'd make sure everyone stayed on his side of the lawn and that no one disturbed you or your house. he'd explained that it wasn't a quiet neighborhood, no matter the time of year, but repeated that if anything happened he would take full responsibility for it. he said that you were welcome to come over any time, whether you needed something or you just wanted in on the fun.

you'd taken his word for it, sheepishly waving goodbye as you crossed the sidewalk between your houses, though you figured you would probably never set foot inside his house while there was a party going on. and as you’d walked away, you had tried to ignore the feeling of your heart fluttering with the beginnings of a crush on your neighbor.

tonight, however, your heart was doing anything but fluttering. music blasted outside, definitely a lot louder than usual, and the sound of car engines revving was already getting on your nerves.

you dunk your tea bag into the boiling water at the same time a loud banging on your door makes you jump, and you narrowly avoid spilling it all over yourself and the counter.

quietly you rush over to the door, looking out the peephole to see a group of people carrying cases of beer, looking around at your front porch.

before you can figure out how to react, you hear someone yell something distantly and the group turns around in the direction of the sound.

"shit, wrong house," one of the guys says loudly. "sorry, whoever lives here! have a good night!" he calls as they walk away, the others laughing over a joke you can't hear. 

with the crisis averted, you head back into the kitchen and pull the tea bag out of your mug, chucking it into the trash with a huff. full responsibility, your ass. 

and then… you have an idea. 

chan had been so insistent that you could come over if you ever needed anything, so you might as well take advantage of his offer. because tonight you did, in fact, need something. you needed the party to not be so goddamn loud that you can literally feel your living room floor vibrating beneath your feet.

you stick your mug in the microwave to reheat later and quickly change out of your pajamas and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. presentable enough that you don’t embarrass yourself, yet comfortable enough that you don’t feel so awkward.

with a deep breath, you pull open your front door, keys tightly in hand as you lock it behind you and start making your way across the street.

you're almost at chan’s front door when a man steps in front of you out of nowhere, stopping you short. "hey, here for the party?" he asks, holding up his hand for a high-five.

"um… kinda," you say, lightly tapping his hand. you figure he must be the bouncer of some sort, from his friendly yet confident no-nonsense attitude and the way his thick biceps strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt. "i'm looking for lee chan, he owns the house?"

"gotcha," he nods. "gotta check your age before i let you in, though."

you pause, his words sinking in as you realize why he's asking. "oh, sorry, i didn't think i'd need my id," you apologize. "but i live next door, my driver's license is just in my wallet, i can go grab—"

"are you over 21?" he interrupts, and you frown at the question.

"uh, yes?"

"cool. head on in, then," he says.

you look at him suspiciously. "you're sure you don't need to see my id? what if i was lying?"

"dino will probably be downstairs, his room is the door at the end of the hallway on the left," he says, pointedly ignoring your questions. "and while you're down there, tell him cheol sent you. ask him to grab another beer for me."

he waves towards the open front door, and hesitantly you make your way inside. you have no idea who the hell dino is, and you can only hope it's just a nickname of some kind and the man you're about to go find isn't some stranger.

the second you set foot inside the doorway, it's like entering a completely different world. the air is stale and humid, clinging to your skin as you push through a crowd of what must be hundreds of people packed like sardines into every corner of the room.

the music gets louder the further inside the house you go, and you have to focus on repeating cheol's instructions in your head so you don’t get lost in the maze of hallways and doors. downstairs, end of the hallway, left. 

you soon find out where the music is coming from. unlike the normal house lights on the first floor, downstairs everything is dark except for colorful flashing led lights around the room. a man stands on top of a table between two huge speakers as people crowd around him, jumping and shouting lyrics to the song that’s playing.

there’s so many people that you have to push your way through the crowd, but most of the people around you either don’t notice or are too drunk to care. but finally, you make it to what looks like the hallway that the man outside—what was his name, cheol?—told you about.

you open the first door on your left and find four people sat quietly on the floor passing around a bong, a thick cloud of smoke hanging over the room. all four of them look over at you at the same time, glazed eyes silently asking who the hell are you?.

"sorry, wrong room," you squeak, slamming the door and retreating back into the hallway as you try your best not to step on anyone's feet.

with a deep breath you crack open the door directly beside the one you'd just opened and poke your head inside, and relief washes over you when you see chan inside.

he's sitting on a couch with a couple girls sitting next to him and a guy slumped against his shoulder, eyes closed and brows furrowed.

he looks up when the door opens, and a look of shock spreads over his face when he recognizes you. he calls your name and you step inside tentatively, saying his name in response. "chan?"

"close the door behind you," he says, and you jump to turn around and shut it with a click. he must notice you standing like a deer in headlights, because he motions you closer to him with a friendly smile. "sorry," he explains. "people will think it's an open room if you leave the door open. i don't want anybody in here without a reason to be."

you nod, but your eyes dart over at the girls sitting beside chan. he makes eye contact with them and clears his throat, and without a word they stand up, understanding the message.

he helps the man laying against him sit up, then helps him stand up and hands him off to the others. "don't let hoshi drink anything else tonight except water, okay? keep an eye on him until your driver shows up."

they nod and slip their arms around their friend, helping him stumble out of the room as he grumbles about something incoherent. "thanks, dino," one of them says with a little wave. "see you monday for that bio test."

the girls open and shut the door quickly, suddenly leaving you alone with him in the room.

"hi," you start, not knowing what else to say. it's been such an ordeal just trying to find him that you've almost forgotten why you came searching for him in the first place.

"hi," he repeats with a laugh. "honestly, i never thought i'd see you here. you don't seem like the type. so, what brings you over tonight?"

"you've only met me twice, how would you know what i seem like?" you reply defensively, thought he's spot on. this is not your usual scene at all, and you’re sure that anyone at this party who’s even a smidge sober must be able to tell how out of place you look.

he shrugs, patting the couch seat next to him. "alright, fair point. come sit down."

you carefully take a seat, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the collection of ambiguous stains on the couch cushions.

"oh, before i forget. somebody named cheol told me to tell you he wants a beer?" you say awkwardly, relaying the message.

"bastard," chan mutters, but he's smiling, and you assume the guy you met earlier is a friend of his. "fine, i'll grab him something when i go back outside." pausing, he turns his attention back to you. "but really, why are you here? i don't wanna make any assumptions, but i doubt it's for the free alcohol."

"if i was, you'd have to tell me where to find it," you say with a shrug, and he laughs but stays quiet for you to finish.

you fold your hands together nervously. "anyway, i just came over to ask—could you maybe turn the music down, like, just a tiny bit? and also… can you tell people to stop having sex in my yard?"

he winces and gives an apologetic smile. "yeah, of course. sorry about that. i told vernon to keep it down, but you know how he gets when he's…" he stops as if he’s just realized something. "nevermind. i'll go let him know right now. do you wanna come with, or you wanna stay here?"

"no offense, but i'd rather not go back out there," you laugh awkwardly. “it was bad enough just trying to find you in the first place.”

"all good," he replies with that friendly smile of his. "it's not for everyone, that's for sure. just make sure the door stays closed, and you'll be fine in here by yourself. shouldn't take too long."

he opens the door and slips out, slamming it closed behind him. you sit unmoving on the couch, finally glancing at your surroundings.

unlike the first room, the air here is fairly clean, other than the faint smell of alcohol and weed wafting in from under the door. you realize this must be chan's actual bedroom, when you see the posters that cover the walls and the bookshelf full of knick-knacks and textbooks.

you start to wonder who else lives in this house, but soon the door opens again and chan returns, the sound of voices and music flooding in while the door is open but quickly falling quieter once the door is shut again.

"alright, he'll keep it down. i'm sorry about the noise," he apologizes again, but you wave him off, suddenly feeling shy around him. with him still standing and you still sitting, he towers over you in a way that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter back to life.

"no, it's fine. really, it's not that big of a deal," you rush, trying to ignore the growing feeling in your chest. was he always this hot? for the first time tonight you notice how his blonde hair falls in waves around his face, perfectly framing his soft features.

he shakes his head. "really, i mean it. vernon will make sure it doesn't get out of hand, he’s good at that. i can't exactly give you a quiet evening, but i can give you the best i've got."

you take a deep breath and stand up. you're already way outside of your comfort zone even just coming to this party, but maybe this experience hasn't been all that bad. after all, you got to see chan again, and you got to exchange more than a handful of words with him like you did all the other times you’d met him.

"well… what is the best you've got?" you ask him, and you almost see him raise an eyebrow.

he puts his hands in his back pockets, pausing for a second as he looks at you. "mm, best i've got? probably this room. my room. quietest in the house, and nobody will come in to bother us."

your heart races as you take a small step towards him, standing close to him but still keeping some distance between you.

"so does this mean you're not leaving?" he asks when you don’t say anything, just barely loud enough for you to hear him.

"do you want me to stay?"

he takes a step closer to you. "only if you stay with me."

"do you say that to all the people you bring in here?" your question is joking, but a part of you still worries that he thinks you're just another girl at the party looking for a one night stand. though honestly, you wouldn't even really mind if that's all this was. hell, maybe all the secondhand smoke is getting to your head and clouding your judgement, because hooking up with your neighbor seems like a pretty fantastic idea right now.

"the only time i let people in my room is to let them use my bathroom and to make sure they don't die of alcohol poisoning," he says in a low tone, a little laugh escaping him. "and now, i guess i let my hot neighbor in here, too."

"you think i'm hot?" you ask, taking another small step forward.

he matches your stride, taking one last step towards you so that you're finally standing toe to toe with him. "i'd be an idiot not to."

"but how would you know, if we've only met twice?"

he laughs. "well, you had just moved in. i wasn't gonna hit on you when you hadn't even finished unpacking your furniture yet."

"so you did want to hit on me, then," you say confidently, straightening up a little.

“did i ever say i didn't?” he rests his hands on your hips and gently pulls you towards him, closing the last of the distance between you. his eyes never leave your face, gauging your reaction and looking for any hesitation.

you wrap your arms around him and lean forward, a smile on your lips. "good to know."

he leans in the rest of the way and presses his mouth against yours, and everything else just falls into place. your hands reach up to find his hair, threading your fingers through his blond waves and tugging experimentally, and when he lets out a little noise of pleasure you kiss him harder.

the noise of the party fades into the background as his hands slide down your body to grip your ass, and you can’t help the little moan that escapes as he starts to back you up against the wall. his hands stay put, kneading your ass as you try to keep your legs from giving out already. it’s painfully obvious how bad you want him, but it’s equally obvious how he feels the same way.

“fuck, been dreaming about this since the day you moved in,” chan says, pulling away from you with a shaky breath as your fingers tug at the hem of his t-shirt. 

he pulls it off over his head before leaning over to kiss you again, his tongue tracing over your lips. he’s good at this; not like you’re surprised by it or anything, but it still catches you off guard.

he seems to be able to sense the tiny bit of lingering hesitancy, so he breaks apart from you but still keeps his arms firmly around you, loosening his grip just a little. “is this okay?” he asks in a low voice, but you can hear the concern laced in it.

you nod quickly, tugging your shirt off quickly and letting his hands settle at your hips before you pull him back closer. you never do this. maybe you really had inhaled too much secondhand smoke on the way in and you aren’t thinking straight. but deep down, you know that’s not the case. 

as much as you hate to admit it, your harmless crush on your neighbor has grown into something much, much more. you can’t say you’ve never been a little jealous when you see girls leaving his house on sunday mornings after parties. you can’t say you’ve never let your eyes linger a few seconds too long when he goes out to check the mail and he’s wearing that tight black tank and thin silver chain he never takes off.

or the fact that he works out in his garage with the door open, and you aren’t really purposefully trying to look but it’s not your fault that your window just happened to be open. and it wasn’t your fault that you just happened to look outside and see him shirtless and bench lifting a very large amount and if you were really really quiet you could almost hear him groaning—

he slides his hands down your bare skin, hesitating again at the waistband of your jeans, but you arch your back a little to push yourself closer and he takes the hint. he easily undoes the button with one hand, and you try not to think about how many times he must’ve practiced that in order to get that skilled at it. but that thought is quickly pushed out of your mind when his hand makes its way into your pants, his fingers experimentally sliding down past your underwear and brushing through your folds.

you let out a groan, rolling your hips into his hand encouragingly. you’re already hot and sweaty, standing with your back against the door in just your bra and jeans, but it’s hard to tell if the heat is from the crowded, stuffy house or from something else.

“god, you’re so wet,” he murmurs under his breath almost incredulously as he presses his fingertip against your clit, circling the swollen bud before dipping back down to collect your arousal on his fingers.

you squeeze your thighs together out of instinct, trapping his hand between your legs, and he looks up at you for confirmation. “more,” you whimper, just loud enough to be heard over the music and the noise on the other side of the door. “chan, please.”

he groans and puts more pressure on your clit, starting to rub a little faster and a little messier. he slides his middle and index fingers inside and you let out an involuntary yelp, clenching and bucking your hips in search of more friction. he starts out slow, curling his fingers in a beckoning motion as his other hand massages the bare skin of your waist.

after more of your pleading he finally concedes, sliding his fingers out and wiping them on his stomach, leaving a glistening trail of wetness on his tan skin. he glances back up at you in questioning, but he finds no hesitation in your expression as his hands start to push your pants down your legs and you kick them away, leaving you bare in front of him.

“you sure you're ready?” he pauses to ask one more time, but your quick nod has him jumping back into action in seconds.

he follows hurriedly, stripping out of his pants and shoving his boxers down to free his cock. his length springs up and slaps against his stomach, the tip looking flushed and heavy, and your mind goes blank, replaced only with the thought of him inside you. he holds himself in one hand, lining his cock up at your entrance as you adjust your position in preparation.

you groan as he finally ushes into you, your fingernails digging into the back of his shoulder blades as you struggle to balance.

“feels good?” he mumbles as he lifts your thigh, wrapping your leg securely around his hip. he doesn't move yet, his hips still as he lets you move however you need.

you barely manage to nod in return, keeping your hands firmly planted on his shoulders, slowly but surely adjusting to his size. “god, yes,” you manage, trying to keep your breathing steady. “if i'd have known you felt this good i would've come over way sooner.”

“mm, well. you're welcome over here any time.” he grins at you. his dark eyes get hazier with desire as he holds you firmly against his pelvis. “for any reason you'd like.”

the best response you can come up with is “sure”, barely listening as you start to roll your hips, but you can tell the sincerity in his statement. your attempt at movement doesn't work very well in this position, but chan quickly takes the hint, pulling back and letting his cock slip halfway out before he drives back into you.

the first thrust has you seeing stars already, and you let out a broken moan as he starts to build up his pace. your back slides against the wall as you feel the bass reverberating through your bones, and it only enhances the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls.

“if there weren’t so many people in this house, i’d have you screaming my name right now,” chan huffs against your lips, pulling your body closer and wrapping his arms around you tighter.

“mm, but the music is so loud they probably wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway,” you bite back with a brazen smile. you're feeling bold, the party atmosphere filling you with a cockiness that you don't usually possess. but something about the environment, the fact that you're fucking the hottest person here while hundreds of people rave obliviously outside the door, is a thrill you've never felt before.

he rolls his head back with a groan, and you feel his thrusts suddenly getting harder and deeper. you have to fight to stay standing, using all your energy to keep yourself upright and leaning most of your weight on him, but if he notices it he doesn't let it show. all those push-ups and bench presses that you ogle him doing in his garage must be good for something, from the way he hoists you against the wall and drives his cock into you without even barely breaking a sweat.

“say it, then,” he goads, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh as he holds your leg up. “you want to, don't you? you wouldn't have come over here tonight if you didn't.”

the worst part is that you know he's right. your own curiosity is what brought you here tonight, masked by the claims of noise complaints. the noise isn't even really that much of a bother: you could've gone to bed, turned on your fan and played some white noise, and you would've been perfectly fine. but some part of you longs to know what goes on at these parties, to see your devastatingly sexy neighbor in this setting you've never witnessed him in yet. so now that your curiosity has been satisfied, you really have nothing to lose.

“chan! fuck— mmph, yes—” you whine loudly, unintentionally clenching around him as the words fall from your lips. there's no way anyone would hear over the music, and even if they did, there's a high chance they wouldn't care either way. it's just what happens at parties.

his eyes light up at the sound, a moan of his own leaving his mouth as he thrusts into you over and over again, burying his cock as deep as he can go with every stroke. a familiar heat burns in the pit of your stomach at his movements, winding tighter and tighter with each passing second. your walls throb around his length, filling every inch of you until you can't take it anymore.

“chan…” you groan again, pulling him towards you with your leg around his waist. “please, keep going… c-close, i'm close—”

he leans in and presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans with his eager mouth. “god, please cum for me,” he says breathlessly, pulling away but leaving just enough room for your lips to stay connected by a thin string of spit. “need to feel it, need to feel you. please, baby, fuck…”

he slams into you even harder, driving his cock right up into the spot that makes your knees nearly buckle. you manage to whimper out his name one last time before your lips go slack against his mouth, your eyes squeezing shut as you crash into your climax. the force of his steady, constant thrusts combined with the force of your orgasm leaves your body tingling, every nerve alight from the waves of pleasure pulsing through you.

his movements don't ever slow, but you can see the emotion twisting in his face in reaction as he watches you cum, squeezing around him so warm and wet and perfect that it takes every ounce of his self control not to immediately follow you over the edge.

his eyes bore into yours, watching your face until he's sure you've recovered enough to handle him. he pulls out and keeps his hand firmly wrapped around the base of his cock, jerking himself with tiny flicks of his wrist to keep the momentum going.

immediately you drop to your knees in front of him, tilting your head back to stare up at him between his thighs, your eyes wordlessly pleading with him as your tongue nearly rolls out of your mouth.

“fuck, you're so…,” he groans, keeping his fist tight around his cock with a few final motions. “you're so fucking hot, god, i'm gonna—”

he whines and his hips buck as he spills across your face, thick white ropes landing on your tongue and your cheeks. your smaller hand reaches up to replace his and you take him into your mouth, gagging only slightly as the salty taste fills your mouth. you wrap your lips around him and swallow, letting your tongue swirl around his sensitive head to collect it all until he's finished.

he pulls back and his cock slips from your mouth, leaving you gasping and licking your lips to catch the stray drops of his cum. his voice is low and strained as he reaches out his hand to help you up, his thick biceps flexing as he pulls you to your feet. despite the blissed-out look on his face you can see the guilt in eyes and it makes you pause, wondering if he didn't enjoy it the same way you just did. but it's only another moment before he speaks again, and your short-lived worries are put to rest.

“i'm sorry it was so fast,” he says almost shyly, pulling you over to sit at the edge of his bed. “i can go again if you aren't done yet. or we can do something else… or i could walk you back home. whatever you want, i'm happy to do.”

you expression softens into a grin, still a little hazy but definitely not finished. “oh, i can go again, for sure. i've got all night if you'll let me.”

his eyes crinkle with an eager smile, and you're already spreading your legs to give him space as he falls down onto the bed between them, landing on top of you. his hand cups your chin ans he pulls you into him, his lips finding yours and melting into you with a satisfied hum. his tongue finds its place once again in your mouth, prodding inside as he kisses you with a level of passion and desperation you haven't felt in a long time. 

he groans into the kiss as he tastes himself on your lips, exploring your mouth and the bitter taste he left inside. you feel the vibrations from it in your jaw and down your neck, and it only makes you kiss him harder in an effort to draw out more of those pretty sounds.

"hey, dino, didn't you say you'd bring me a beer? it's so boring standing out there—"

the door opens and you jerk away with a scream, hiding yourself under chan and using the nearest piece of clothing to cover up as someone barges into the room.

"cheol, get the fuck out!" chan shouts, wrapping his arm around you and keeping you pressed tightly against his chest, using his back to shield you from view. "fucking knock next time, dude, you know better!"

"jeez! how should i have known? i thought you said you didn't hook up at parties," cheol mutters as he turns around, slamming the door shut behind him. "i'll get the damn beer myself."

the door slams shut once again, and chan sighs and hangs his head, his forehead leaning against your chest before he reluctantly crawls off of you and crosses the room to lock the door.

“you don’t hook up at parties, huh?”

he turns around to look at you, and you pause to take him in. his hair is messier than it was when you got here, glued to his forehead with sweat and sticking up at odd angles from you tugging on it. his broad chest is tinged red with tiny scratches from your nails, and it makes you want to bite him all over, but you contain yourself for now.

your voice is teasing, but cheol’s words have honestly made you feel a million times lighter. you hadn’t expected to be anything special to chan after tonight; at the very least, you hoped that it wouldn’t be awkward when you see each other, but you’d figured you were just the next in a long line of girls waiting to have their turn with him. for once, you’d never been so happy to be proven wrong.

“i’ll make an exception for the pretty neighbor girl. just this once.”

“oh, so now i'm just pretty. i thought i remembered you saying that i was the hot neighbor girl,” you giggle, watching as he hops on one leg to put his boxers back on.

“two things can be true at once,” he says with a grin as he walks back over to you still lying on his bed. “besides, i still haven't taken you out on a date yet. would be kinda forward of me to call you hot when i haven't even bought you dinner yet.”

you smile at him, trying to fight the warmth burning in your cheeks as you reach up to ruffle your fingers through his soft hair. he lets out a satisfied groan at the feeling, and it gives you an idea.

“do…” you trail off, suddenly unsure, until you see the warmth in chan’s eyes as he lays on top of you and it fills you with confidence again. “do you wanna continue this at my house? i’ve got the quietest room, and nobody will bother us.”

“mm.” he grins at the way you repeat his words from earlier, enamored with your shy yet playful tone. “if we’re at your place, does that mean i get to give you the noise complaint this time?”

“i’ll allow it.” you roll your eyes and pull yourself to sit up. “i need a shower, and i’m sure you would like one, too. plus i have food that hasn't been spilled on the floor or soaked in alcohol.”

he picks your shirt up off the floor and hands it to you with a smile, moving around his room with a quiet confidence you find unbearably hot. “does this mean anything to you, or is this just a tonight thing?” he asks.

you bite at your lip as you shimmy back into your jeans, shaky fingers sliding the button into place as you sit back down on the bed. “it does,” you reply simply. “you did tell me you'd buy me dinner, after all. i'm gonna hold you to that.”

he leans over you, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips. “and i plan on keeping that promise.”

you stumble your way through the house, squeezing chan’s hand tightly as he pulls you up the stairs, following him towards the door. you're not worried about anyone noticing you anymore: everyone's too wrapped up in their own business to care, including you. the party seems dulled now, the music fading and the people around you becoming blank faces. all you care about is chan, your eyes roving over his broad back muscles that peek through his shirt as you trail behind him. you must look no different than every other drunk college kid here with the giddy smile on your face, but you haven't had a drop of alcohol. it's just the effect he had on you.

finally you make it outside, and the cool night air feels sharp compared to the humidity inside the house. already it seems quieter as you start to walk the distance across the street, moving away from the party and towards the comfort of your own home. chan moves up beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist while you lead the way, but you're stopped once again by the same man from earlier.

“hey,” he greets chan, only sparing half a smirk in your direction but otherwise not bothering you, despite the heat that instantly rises in your cheeks at the fact that you were caught. “did you get my beer?”

“no. you said you were getting it yourself.” he rolls his eyes, and cheol whines and gives him a look that you swear almost looks like a pout. “if anyone asks about me, tell them i'm not home. tell them i had to…” he looks over at you with a cocky grin. “…had to go take care of something. noise complaint.”

cheol groans, making a face. “god, whatever. i don't want the details. but just don't make me stand outside next time. i'm doing you a favor here. i'm supposed to be working on my thesis.”

“sure,” chan replies, but he's still stuck staring at you, barely processing his friend's complaints. “yeah. anyway, i'll catch you tomorrow.”

he tugs gently on your waist and you start walking again, leaving cheol without so much as a goodbye or even a proper introduction. you'll deal with that later, you guess. there’s a lot of things you'll have to deal with, but at least the wild parties your neighbor boyfriend throws won't be one of them anymore.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[brian-in-finance]

Instagram 2 June 2023 ⬆️ Instagram 20 August 2015 Instagram 20 August 2015 #2

Glamour Italia: August 2015

I TRAVEL THROUGH TIME

Caitriona Balfe, the Outlander’s star, is hitting the big time in Hollywood. And after shooting with Clooney and Julia Roberts, she’s ready to return to Scotland. With specific ideas, some style tricks and few regrets.

One thinks that some things can happen only in an episode of Sex and the City. Instead you can just walk in the West Village in New York with Caitriona Balfe (pronounced Catrina; it’s a Gaelic name) to suddenly glance at your side a coach with the advertising of Outlander, where she is the leading actress, exactly what it happens to Carrie in the unforgettable theme song. But Caitriona does not stumble: she mirrors herself in her image and smiles. “Thanks to the photo editing the scene seems almost heroic”,she says. “But looking at it I can only recall that my ass was freezing that day in the mountains of Scotland”. After leaving Ireland at 15 years old, entering the fashion industry as a model, last year she has been mentioned by Entertainment Weekly among the twelve Hollywood’s rising stars. Thirty-five years, 1.77 cm tall, a perfect body, icy stare and reminiscent features as Cate Blanchett, one of the actressess she likes more.

How did you feel working side by side to George Clooney and Julia Roberts in Jodie Foster’s Money Monster?:

“They are all movie giants, I learned a lot. But in the end, when you’re there, it’s just a work, and it becomes almost a routine”.

You grew up in Northern Ireland, two hours from Dublin, not only far from the spotlight but even from the city lights. How did you end up working in fashion?

“The usual fate. When I was 18 an agent stopped me while I was volunteering for an association against multiple sclerosis. I was filling shopping bags in a supermarket. He offered me to work for an agency in Dublin. I left the college, where I studied acting, and a year later I moved to Paris”.

You have worked with all the greatest – from Karl Lagerfeld to Dolce & Gabbana and Balenciaga – at the spike of your career you were considered one of the twenty most sought-after models in the world. Is there something you currently miss of that world?

“Surely the bread with olives made by Dolce & Gabbana’s cook! I remember they always had the best refreshments. Sometimes I still dream that bread. However, it was a very funnyworld, but I think it was a suitable lifestyle for my age at that time. You can cope with certain pace, between trips and parties, only when you are twenty years old”.

Is there something you never tolerate?

“The fashion system idealize only one type of woman: it’s wrong and misleading. It forces to doubt about yourself, because it doesn’t matter if you were the prettiest girl or the smartest one at school. You are judged only upon the basis of how much you are skinnier than the girl at your side. Or if you have nicer doe eyes “.

Did you feel you would have become an actress?

“Yes, I always saw my modelling career as a temporary thing. Of course, I did not think it was a step lasting for ten years! But at the time I wouldn’t have even been able to deal with all the responsibilities requested to an actress and the roles I play”.

Such as the Claire role, the heroine of the Outlander series, adapted from the book by Diana Gabaldon. Do you see herself in her?

“The story of Claire is a radical change, a great loss, but also a renaissance (Claire is mysteriously thrown back in time; in Scotland, from 1945 to 1743.) It talks about how you can survive in front of tragic events and that you must keep living your life against all odds. She has ahuge force: she is a modern and feminist woman, not by choice, but simply because she feels to be worth as much as men. And she is so strong she can afford to make mistakes … So not only I like to think to have many things in common with her, but I hope so”.

Claire is in a love triangle. Have you ever experienced a similar situation?

“It happened that the place in my heart taken by someone I loved was not yet free and meanwhile … someone else was already entering! But I have never found in a difficult position as Claire is. I do not think, however, that neither of the two men competing for her would be right for me. The first thing I look for in a boyfriend? Certainly a beautiful head. Even if no woman would say no to the overwhelming passion felt by Claire and Jamie in the serial. I almost had to take a test of “chemistry” on the set before having the part ( she laughs)”.

You had to cope with the book fans, following the character for years. Judging from your followers on Twitter – more than ninety thousand –you convinced them.

“The reviews so far are always positive and fans are very active. The funniest part is that they send me a lot of paintings of my cat. I find them beautiful and I gave a part of them to some friends who live around the world. So, it seems to meI have a piece of home wherever I go”.

Do you like Twitter?

“The wonder of this social network is doing something good by using all the “chatter”created around my success. For example, I support an association helping children with cancer worldwide. Through Twitter I can give visibility even to them”.

The first series of Outlander was shot for almost a year in Scotland: did it was a kind of homecoming or did you feel isolated from the world?

“It was a long time since I was living in Europe … Scotland and Ireland are very different but both have landscapes with ancestral energies, magical, taking your breath away. However, sometimes we were so isolated that the mobile phone did not work for days. But that’s good – actually I hate to take it always with me on the set! Maybe the only thing I really missed was dressing up elegant to go out. It seems strange, but being accustomed to Paris or New York, where you pay attention to how you dress even to go to dinner, I felt a bit out of place in Glasgow. No one dresses to impress there, unless you go to dance”.

But your look, brown sweater, high waist denim skirt, ankle boots with a little heel, apparently, seems to reflect a simple taste …

“In New York, jeans and t-shirt are the uniform between shootings, but when I go out I want to tart myself up. My style depends a lot about how I wake up: one day very feminine, girly, the day after tomboy or even “rock and roll”. The only constant is black and a few jewels. And, definitely, high heels”.

Do you have a secret to be perfect during the long days on the set?

“Perhaps the main problem are dark circles, due to the impossible schedule. So patches help a lot, the ones you can cool down. When I am engaged during the episodes of the series I have always a bit of them hidden in the fridge of the crew, and usually my days begin with them”.

With the end of the Money Monsters’ shooting you will have to leave New York to return to Outlander in Scotland. And then? Which are your plans?

“For now, I know more or less what direction I want to go, but I do not want to have a clear strategy. If you schedule everything, you risk being disappointed, while I always took my best decisions without thinking at them. I let myself be surprised and, when there are challenges, I took them up. For the moment, they were right choices. I have no regrets..apart from a couple of ex-boyfriends!”

Outlander-Online

Remember when August 2015 seemed like only yesterday?

[ayearwithoutwater]

Eleven.

In the premiere episode of Sex and the City's second season, Carrie narrates: "After a breakup, certain streets, locations, even times of day are off-limits. The city becomes a deserted battlefield loaded with emotional landmines; you have to be very careful where you step, or you could be blown to pieces." She's a month out from her breakup with Big, who she had wanted to be the one, her one, after ten years in New York and five real relationships (one serious).

I hate to draw the parallels between her life and mine, but I suppose they draw themselves, my own private ley lines. My breakup with Henry came after ten years in New York and four real relationships (one serious), and I abjectly refused to go anywhere that I'd previously been with him.

My relationship with New York felt sullied. I'd opened up to him in the way that New Yorkers do, bringing him to all of my favorite spots and explaining to him why my preferred locales—the best shop for desserts, the best Sichuan restaurant, the best corner for people-watching, the best eatery for fried chicken, the best corner in a particular nightclub for making out—were superior to all the alternatives. After we broke up, all of these places felt tainted.

Throughout the episode, Carrie is dragged out of her stupor by her friends. She goes on a couple of dates, she meets a new guy, and she sees her ex-boyfriend in strangers everywhere…until she eventually does run into him in person. It's an accurate depiction of the social scene in New York, with vanishingly small distance between the lives of one and one's ex-partners—here, one needn't go knocking on doors looking for the devil, because he'll make an appearance regardless. The likelihood of accidentally bumping into one another is so probable that it's equally likely to mistake a stranger for someone you once knew as it is for that stranger to actually be the person you want to avoid most.

It felt deeply unfair. Although Henry had spent time in New York since his childhood, I always felt that my relationship with the city ran deeper than did his. He'd grown up being shipped between New York and Singapore, depending on where his parents lived at the time, and I'd assumed that that meant he had many more local haunts out of nostalgia, if not habit, than I did. But, he'd told me once, when I'd asked about his relationship with the city, that he didn't know it very well; he was too young back then to properly explore its depths, and he was only ever a visitor until after he graduated college and became a resident proper. In contrast, I had lived here throughout my most formative years and beyond, and I always had more of it to show him than he, someone who never left Manhattan, ever had to show me. So, I resented the taint of our breakup that seemed to corrode all of my corners of the city. It felt as though even the city itself was taking his side.

The truth is that the places themselves were still the same; I was just looking at them through grief-colored glasses. In my fragile state of mind, I desperately wanted to avoid every echo of what—or who—I'd lost. I wasn't ready to confront the ghosts of my past, reanimations of the life we had shared. I wasn't yet ready for those sad memories to transition into bittersweet nostalgia.

I saw Henry everywhere I went: Port Authority, Fiumicino Airport, rooftop networking events, apartment parties, somewhere in the crowd in a nightclub…and, like within the episode, half the time it wasn't him, but that meant that, half the time, it was. Once, upon exiting the A train on 42nd Street, I thought I saw him just a few paces ahead of me. As if I were deranged Carrie Bradshaw myself, I followed him, my heart racing all the while. I needed to know if it was him. I didn't know what I'd do if he saw me, if we were confronted with one another. I just needed to know.

Someone told me I needed to concede that, given our places within the social strata of New York, running into each other was inevitable; after all, it's his city too, they said. But, my conceit refused to concede anything to the man who'd broken my heart—much less to a man who never ventured into even Brooklyn—and I wasn't about to let him wrest my favorite city away from me, too.

My therapist asked if I'd consider that he was probably just as afraid of running into me. I didn't have a smarmy response. It was, all things considered, probably true.

At the end of that first episode, Carrie breaks things off with her new beau. The writers pull off a gentle fake-out: succumbing to her residual emotions, she calls and asks someone to meet her at "their spot" because she just can't do it anymore, she needs to talk to them. We're led to believe that it's Big she's hoping to meet; instead, it's her closest confidante, Miranda. Miranda, for her part and despite having earlier sworn off any further conversation with the girls about their men, their exes, because she hated to see Carrie so upset, because she wanted Carrie to not dwell, to move on, had also just had a run-in with an ex of her own; she softens her stance, and the two commiserate over french fries.

I came up with a plan of attack: I would retake all of my favorite parts of New York, all of which I'd known much longer than I'd ever known Henry, by begging and cajoling my friends to accompany me there so that I could create new memories. Although the mental scars were still fresh, I rationalized that they, like physical scars, could be turned over and eventually expelled from my body, from me, until nothing remained of the life I had had with him. I just needed to go outside.

I've realized recently that I can now credibly claim to have a memory associated with almost every block in Manhattan below 42nd Street. Years removed from the event, I concede that those memories do, unavoidably, include him. However, they're thankfully no longer the only ones I have. I, too, have begun to move on.

[burritodetodo]

Tuca and Bertie went from being the adult animation revolutionary series to be (one of) the most important animated show aimed to adult people on media now. Season 2 picked up where we left: Bertie (Ali Wong) on her own pastry business and Tuca (Tiffany Haddish) trying to improve as a person, which this season makes focus. Speckle (Steven Yeun) remains where he comfortably is: being a supportive and cute sidekick. After a rough path on limbo thanks to Netflix' cancelling the show, Adult Swim picked it up as a valued player and let Lisa Hanawalt continue her story about the songthrush and the toucan.

The main thread of this season is Tuca and how she wants to be commited to a relationship like her bestie Bertie. She tries the reality show way on the Sex Bus, date apps, until she meets a nurse named Kara while visiting Aunt Tallulah. They fall on each other and start dating, but this relationship becames co-dependent and even toxic when Kara stops Tuca to be herself and transforms the hyperactive toucan into someone Kara would like to be. This ship becomes toxic and finally Kara dumps Tuca before moving in with her in a very, very shitty way. Tuca also does wacky things this season, but she has time to tell Aunt Tallulah off again and reconecting with her elder sister Terry and her niece on their own version of Halloween.

The main characters are millenials on their early 30s and having the same age of them I can feel identified on how this item is tackled (and many others I'll tell y'all later). Knowing someone and start great but then one of them shows their fangs and this becomes a one way relationship that sooner or later ends badly. And the crew did a great job on Kara (Nicole Byer) portraying as someone you really want Tuca to be with to a toxic and revealing her true facade: a controlling and self centric woman who wants people to be around her. Hopefully Tuca can grow again and be happy as we saw on a flashback of Bertie meeting Speckle on a party with her, but there's a lot to go through.

Bertie has less development, but she made a great first step: going to the shrink and talk about things that give her anxiety and how to fight them. One of them is Pastry Pete's reapperance after being cancelled for sexually harrasing Bertie. But therapy made her face things like her parents for the first time and their lousy role when she was abused at the lake when she was 12. They didn't believe her and she had to carry all that guilt and pressure of her parents pushing her to excel and not letting Roberta to be herself. And don't forget her co-dependant relationship with Tuca and some bumps when she is with Kara, or holding her move to the house Speckle bought.

Bertie and Speckle are one of the healtiest couples ever on animated shows, like Josh and Emily of Close Enough for example. Both are very supportive of each other, they have their doubts and struggles, but they help to deal with them. Or commit to please one another too, like Speckle going to buy that fancy door knob far far away.

And there is a whole arc that involves all main characters: gentrification. Represented by an annoying moss, T&B tackles the process of gentrification on neighbourhoods. This is: real estate investors buying properties on certain zones that are neglected on purpose by (generally right winged) goverments. Investors buy cheap, but change the population of those zones by making buildings fancy and trying to attract higher class tennants or people who rent. What happens to low and low-middle class people? They're forced to leave on more neglected hoods because they can't afford living there anymore. Capitalism at its best!

Moss *buys* Tuca and Bertie's building and Bertie has to move. Tuca plans to do the same soon, but in the meanwhile a Valley Girl moves into what was Bruce's the creep apartment and no one likes her because she doesn't fit there. Then Moss expands to all Bird Town, something that the Mayors (who are Tuca's twin siblings) let happen because basically they didn't care, and too much moss caused a ginormous flood that basically destroyed the city in the season finale. Because social issues are part of what is being a millenial and this one involved everyone in the town which is a thing that isn't treated so much in adult animation (except Simpsons who have many episodes about that).

This review of Tuca and Bertie's second season reflects how important is this show. I really love this show, it keeps getting better and better and not surprised on how the people who made Bojack Horseman could nail another great series on a row. Friendship, romance, gentrification and wackiness on 22 minutes of the best adult animated show at the moment which will come back in some time for Season 3 (take that Netflix!).

[wistfulrat]

this week’s fics! feat. bakeries, bookshops, bisexual awakenings of the angsty and fluffy sort, wolfstar goddads being tender as hell, desi harry reconnecting with his culture, domestic drarry, a lap dance set to akon’s smack that, and more!

But That’s History by @ebbet - 54k - T Harry Potter starts his first year as Muggle Studies Professor only to find that Draco Malfoy has been hired to teach History of Magic.

listen to me. this is one of the funniest drarry fics i've ever read. i was cackling in my bed at 2am because harry’s internal monologues throughout this fic are unhinged. insanely quotable. “what was he, a lothario” and “you were crushing me with your muscular thighs!” are lines that live rent free in my empty head. harry has never played anything cool a day in his life. there’s a faculty meeting where the teachers are planning the yule ball and debating the merits of a DJ when harry decides he must defend his muggle-music-loving honor by dancing seductively to akon’s smack that while a blushing draco loses his mind. i fucking screamed. and the best part is that in between the comedic scenes threading the overall story, you have extremely tender moments of like, padma patil helping harry become a more rooted desi by sharing their cultural traditions, harry proudly donning his sherwani. draco wrestling with his past, going to harry’s lgbtq+ club for students, being sheepish with ron and hermione. ugh, comedic writers with emotional depth are clever and talented as hell!!

Realities, Unfurling by @ebbet - 45k - M Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban into a changed world.

incredible collage-fic told from multiple povs. 8yrs post-war and everything’s changed. the current state of the magical world unfolds via slice-of-life snapshots from a truly stunning cast. non-binary harry whom is running a non-prof org dedicated to building tolerance and establishing equality for marginalized identities. post-prison-release draco whose life will be changed by the internet. neville’s tender relationship with blaise. andromeda’s fiercely protective mothering. remus and sirius being alive and very hot and just, the tender goddads harry deserved. cho chang being brilliant. baker pansy’s softened edges. found families abound. harry being flustered by their crush on draco and making personalized playlists on an iPod nano.

that all might sound narratively cluttered but the author more than pulls this off. glorious, start to finish.

Knead by @jovialobservationanchor (an @hd-erised​ fic) - 83k - E This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

cinematic. a love letter to oregon’s expansive landscapes and lively cities. it’s harry finding home in unexpected places and people. in the vast silence of rolling fields, endless coasts, and starry night skies big enough to feel like you’re adrift in space. and it’s also the lingering, intimate quiet of early mornings in a bakery, sitting on a park bench overlooking the city as you eat ice cream next to your crush. it’s harry watching ginny and luna dance and work around each other like bees. it’s the slow unfolding of harry and draco’s relationship as they fill each other’s quiet. finishing this fic is like waking from a good dream. transporting, immersive, lovely. 

Harry Potter and the Bisexual Awakening by @writcraft - 20k - E Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.

first of all, i feel very seen by draco being a gay-who-can’t-drive. it’s called representation. but mostly i love the ease of harry and draco’s banter, a flustered harry discovering his sexuality, and the way this fic addresses biphobia. also very emo over this exchange: “I think I might be scared of you, but probably not for the reasons you think.” “Yes.” Draco stares at Harry. “I think I might be scared of you too.”

Forged through flowing water by @tedahfromtayla (an @hd-erised​ fic) - 40k - E When Hermione sets up a diplomatic mission to begin repairing the damage British colonisation did to Indian magical communities Harry isn’t going to pass on the opportunity to visit and help his family’s home country. Maybe he should have asked a few more questions about the personnel she had recruited for it before signing on because Malfoy surely has an ulterior motive to be there.

so much to love about this fic. the beautiful settings, from kolkata to mumbai, to the holi festival and colorful lively streets, to remote cave settlements and old intricate temples. it’s harry in the homeland, reconnecting to his family’s heritage and confronting the weight of imperialism in his history. it’s nipping the white savior complex in the bud. this part: That is what England left behind. That is what it still stands for, despite whatever mask of respectability and honour it presents. . .You don't get to step aside and let someone else deal with the mess. You have to listen and learn and then act, Malfoy, you need to learn how to fix your own mess. This is why we're here. my indigenous ass cheered. HP certainly sells the british fantasy but HP fanfic?? fuck jkr, fuck the crown. i love that this fic doesn’t romanticize england’s history. i love that we get to see the vast resilience and beauty of post-colonial india.

Purity Control by yrfrndfrnkly - 28k - T In which Harry tries to ignore his trauma with fantasy Quidditch but Malfoy's Thereness™ is distracting and all his classmates want to talk about are unicorns, virginity, and Muggle music.

tender 8th year fics where they go from bristly as fuck to understanding and soft 100% guaranteed to make me emo as hell. all the teens have traumas and no one wants to talk about it but eventually Things are Talked About. it’s good of the adults to finally notice. everyone just wants someone to hold their hand. and this part: “You’re the only person around here who’s a bigger mess than I am.” “I thought maybe we could be a mess together,” pls don’t look at me as i weep over their gentle empathy.

Advent, a comic by dustmouth - WIP - T It's Harry and Draco's first Christmas together and Draco is determined to live his full yuletide fantasy, come hell or high water.

dustmouth, patron saint of whimsical drarry. whose illustrations singlehandedly reinvented wizarding fashion. whose cheeky and tender comics are like a soothing balm to the utter depravity of this carnal world. harry and draco being domestic, draco’s xmas spirit brand being “traditional unhinged”!! extremely my shit. we’ll absolutely be reading this all december.

Little Spaces by @dracoladon and @lazywonderlvnd​ - WIP - E Draco's back from France and working on the spell damage ward at St Mungo's with Hermione, who invites him over for dinner. Without telling Harry. This is a roleplay, which means Harry is written by one author (lazywonderland) and Draco by another (dracoladon).

the switch in distinct character voices works so well for this fic!! tonally i feel like i'm watching an episode of the office. i personally love harry and draco being Pissed Off at how much they want to bone each other. the battle of the tapenade was the most riveting dinner scene i've read in a minute. clever, hilarious, emotionally tense. can’t wait until that inevitable moment post hate-sex when they’re gonna be like “oh noooo it’s a Heart Boner as well!! >:((” hell ya we’re subscribing for chapter updates.

Dragons Don’t Know Paradise by @teacup-tai​ - WIP - E In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon.

non-magical bookshop AU. remus and sirius’ relationship is a marvel. the ease of their affection with harry makes me so emo. draco’s friends being insistently present even as he tries to isolate himself. this is a story about acceptance, found families, and falling in love at a distance. the intimacy, the longing, the tenderness. what a fic!! i keep coming back to this part:...he looks at ease, inside his body, a body he needed to fight for. He’d made peace with his struggles and his scars. And Draco realises he wants that. He wants to be at ease inside his body, the body that now carries a virus. He wants to be at peace with his own existence. you hurt for draco so deeply but you get moments like these where he affords himself a kindness that feels foreign and it’s just!! the boys navigating grief and learning to be vulnerable. so good.

[the-lady-writes-what]

Have I ever played League of Legends? No. Do I intend to? Maybe not. Have I watched only 5 episodes of Arcane and fell in love with Silco and now I can't get this brain rot of a story out of my head? Yes.

Am I going to make you all deal with it? Also yes.

Content/Content Warnings: mentions sex work, mentions of burn scars and leg amputations

Chapter 1: Fish Out of Water

Sneaking out of the under belly of Zaun and into Piltover is always the easy part. The truly skilled and knowledgeable can scamper along pipes, climb makeshift ladders, and sprint along cobbles undetected by enforcers. If you know your way, you can scamper between cities and squeeze through the tightest places like a rat. Things become difficult when you have two metal legs. Aeroships and blimps whizzed over head even in the dark of night carrying last minute cargo or a load of drunken aristocrats back home. Fey pulled the dingy hood further down her head before sprinting between headlights of passing vehicles. The clunk and clank of metal feet barely muffled by the cloth she wrapped around them to move about without too much noise. Still, having not just one but two legs replaced with metal bits and pieces was half the struggle of getting in and out. Movement in her legs was limited thanks to the old gears getting snagged on something or worse breaking mid-step. Always breaking or in need of repairs, there was only so much money a working girl like Fey could do with her modest income.

Fey tucked the braid of white hair that had come loose from the hoodie. It was a blessing and a curse. Men seemed to fall in love with her if only for her unnatural white hair, but it made her stand out all the more. Her mother and half-siblings didn't have such hair, so it probably came from the father whose name Fey never learned. Her palms itched under the ragged bandages she'd wrapped her hands in. She could feel the old scars burning. Sometimes she couldn't feel them at all, and other times she couldn't even use her hands because of the searing pain. No matter. Fey ignored the itching and focused on sneaking past enforcers making their rounds up and down the streets.

In the far distance, Piltover nightclubs thrummed with bases one could hear all the way in the slums of Zaun if they listened closely. However, Fey sprinted in the opposite direction. Not only would she never be dressed for the occasion of crashing a party, there was another destination she had in mind. Not the many shops that lined the streets or houses where she could plunder while the inhabitants slept. Fey made a serpentine path towards the fashion district of all places. Piltover complained about the refuse and inclement air of its neighbor, Zaun, but never stopped to consider the considerable waste they created themselves. Zaun had no such place like the fashion district in Piltover. People usually wore what could be cobbled together from vintage stores, hand-me-downs, or stolen from Piltover racks. Fey ducked behind one such designing house where a dumpster was left unguarded. The building itself was of immaculate plaster and stone free of graffiti which decorated nearly every building down in the undercity. The second floor was all glass windows while the first floor was a solid brick block. Fey glanced briefly at the mannequins showing off the latest Piltover fashion before running to the side of the building, clamber over the fence, and dash for the dumpster.

The broom was left right where she found it last time, propped up against the dumpster. Streets lights illuminated the almost pristine bin. It looked ridiculously clean for a place to drop one's garbage, but then again the Piltover fashion district didn't have to worry about environmental waste being chucked inside their rubbish bins on a daily basis. Fey glanced around her to make sure the coast was clear All the lights remained off in the building behind her. She picked up the broom and nudged the lid off the dumpster. The gears in her prosthetics scrapped against the metal bin as she hauled herself up and over the dumpster's side. Her short fall was cushioned by the dozens of bolts of cloth, scrap fabric, and ribbons too short to be of use to anyone. Bags of unsold buttons and beads lay beneath the silken, velvety, or sheer layers of cloth. Fey tore off the large duffle bag she'd strapped to her back and unsheathed a pair of scissors from her belt. She let her hands do most of the work as the dumpster was filled with mostly shadow.

Fey felt up every cardboard bolt of fabric in search of her favorite kind, velvet. She knew the subtle softness and could tell the difference in quality just by running her fingertips across the fabric. The spring collections were coming out soon, so whatever winter fabric that wouldn't or couldn't be sold (by lazy, careless Piltover standards) was pitched. Fey long suspected the practice to be in use to keep the luxuries out of Zaunite hands. Their loss was her gain in spite of their best efforts. Her heart hammered against her chest as she dove and tore into the leftovers like a pack of hungry dogs. In the dim lighting, she found rich jewel tones, damask and scroll prints, and velvet embroidered with exotic flowers. She snipped away what she wanted or unfurled whole bolts and left behind the cardboard in stacks on the dumpster floor. Fey stuffed jingling bags of beads and buttons a season or two out of fashion along with her feather-soft goods. When she could fit no more into her duffle bag, Fey chucked the bag over the lip of the dumpster. She climbed out and carefully replaced the lid.

Fey dragged the bag to the fence, threw it over, and hefted herself over. She almost doubled over when she threw her loot unto her shoulders, but regained her balance. Now came the tricky part. Sneaking into Piltover was easy, getting out with a loaded bag of semi-legal loot was another story entirely. Fey was by no means as weak as she looked having to literally pull herself up by her own strength sometimes. That didn't make it any easier. Loaded down, she wasn't nearly as fast as she liked to be.

Running back to Zaun relied on sticking to the shadows and ducking into alleys. She couldn't afford to lose her goods or damage them too much. Fey couldn't readily hurl them over a fence or stash it in a random corner while waiting for an enforcer to pass her by. She weaved in between buildings until the greenish glow of Zaunite lanterns approached her horizon. Fey stopped only once to redress the bandages on her metal "feet."

She reached the harbor as a bell tolled somewhere. Three in the morning. In a short while, the enforcers would be making their rounds near the docks. The window was closing.

Fey ran alongside the reeking river that cut between the two cities, forever and irrevocably cutting them off from one another. Even on the Piltover side, the water stank of fish and bilge water, though it was more bearable when it didn't combine with the fumes of Zaun factories. Beneath dingy lamplight, Fey spotted her little dingy still tethered to the dockyard. Her small boat was covered by the shadows of the piers. She looked behind for any sign of enforcers making their way down the docks with their too-bright flashlights.

Fey just about tossed herself unto the rocky shoreline of the river. She imagined every small noise at her back to be a Piltover warden running towards her with a weapon raised. Her prosthetics struggled over the large rocks leading to the water. Her vessel bobbed on the waves slowly rising as if to meet her. Fey dumped her load first and then herself, narrowly avoiding getting her rust-prone prosthetics wet. She hurriedly untied the rope, grabbed the oars, and paddled straight across the river. She got about half way when she looked over her shoulder once more. Fey paddled harder once she saw the dim lights of enforcer lights flicker across the dockyard.

She raced to the other side as if in hot pursuit. There was no other way. Slowing down meant getting caught and that she couldn't afford. Fey forced her muscles to push past the ache threatening to make her cry out in tired agony. Sweat beaded down her brow and settled into her eyes, but she didn't stop to wipe them away. Fey glanced again to find no one there. Not a shadow of a patrol boat anywhere in sight, however at this point why tempt fate and slow down? Fey paddled harder, faster, forced her way across the competing current until the dingy boat on made a thud against the opposite shore.

Fey tied her craft to the Zaun side dock, though she didn't doubt she'd find it missing the next time she tried going out. She climbed shore, jumping from rock to rock to skip over the mud and muck lining the undercity's shore. With her haul strapped to her back, Fey started for the hazy, green-lit shadow of Piltover.

Though it was early in the morning, the party crowd still loitered in the Lanes and congregated near The Last Drop. Fey would have to make her way through the throngs of shambling drunks in the main square, but not before she passed her workplace. Babette was sitting in her usual spot waiting for customers. She smoked from her long thin pipe as Fey stopped to greet her.

"Dumpster diving again tonight?"

"Yup," answered Fey.

"You certainly smell like it." She blew a stream of smoke away from Fey. "Somebody was asking for you tonight. Told 'em you had the night off and come back. So take a bath or two before you get here tomorrow night."

A secret loathing settled in Fey's stomach. Requests were frequently men who had...unique interests as they say. One in particular she hated most of all. It made her skin crawl just thinking about him.

"Well, let's hope that the pipes work when I get home," said Fey.

"You could just live here. You're going to give me a head of gray hair walking all the way home by yourself. It would be so much easier if you kept a room where you worked."

Fey inhaled the smoke from Babette's pipe. This wasn't the first time they had this conversation, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Fey shook her head.

"It's a good offer, but I need space to work and a quiet place to think," said Fey. "Thank you for the offer though."

She shuffled the bag on her shoulder and walked away before Babette could say another word. Fey weaved through the crowd surrounding the bar and walked into the dingy streets. She let her hood down and ran fingers through her sweat-slick hair. Yes, a bath should be in order if the pipes didn't run with sewage...again. Fey walked down several streets undisturbed. Though the homeless slept in the gutters, they were too tired to bother her. Fey strode past them and walked further ahead with eyes glued forward. That's how you get fewer people to bother you, make them think you've got some place to be in a hurry. It worked, some of the time.

Fey switched her duffle bag from shoulder to shoulder three times before home sweet home appeared in sight. A former fire brigade station, Fey renovated it into a home. The property was dirt cheap with ample space. She checked the lock on the back and front door because you just never know. People will do anything including stealing from one another if they're desperate enough to survive. All the perimeters were secured though as far as she could tell. A wind chime made of broken bottle pieces whispered in the breeze. Fey crossed the threshold and sealed the outside world behind her door.

Her palms itched more fiercely. Fey unraveled the dirty bandages she wore, revealing strange markings for her eyes only. The skin seemed to sizzle in the center of her palms like she put her hands on a hot stove. Fey dumped her loot at the base of a patched-up dress form with a half-finished red project draped on it. Her body demanded sleep, but the smell of her own body started to nauseate her. The bathroom was the cleanest room in the whole building but lacked a vital thing for privacy, a door. Fey kept some semblance of it via a curtain she tacked onto the wall above the door. She didn't know where the door went, just that it wasn't there when she purchased the abandoned station.

Bottles of chemicals sat on the back of the toilet. Fey sat on the edge of the tub and turned on the faucet. Cold water gushed out with a slight murky tint. She daubed a bit of solution onto a Q-tip and put it under the running water. The cotton tip turned pink, but Fey shrugged her shoulders.

"At least it doesn't contain parasites this time." The chemical test just proved there was a bit more salt and minerals than probably should be. The pipes began to groan though they didn't shut down.

While Fey waited for her tub to fill up, she undressed, leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor. A long nightdress hung on the wall. She plucked it off the wall and a towel and laid both within reach of the tub. Next, came the daunting task of detaching her prosthetics. Chemical burns covered her upper thigh, which was all that Fey had left of her right leg. Scars from the same incident was mirrored on the other leg, but these went from the ankle up. Her left foot had been cut off. The tub filled up to where she would splash it all over her floor and get her clothes wet. With the aid of ropes hanging from the walls and ceiling, Fey could ease herself into the water and safely sink down. She grabbed a bottle from a shelf along the wall and scrubbed her hair clean.

The scent of jasmine filled the room. The bottles lining the shelf looked out of the place with the whole building, not just the bathroom. They were exquisite glass bottles that matched the frippery and exclusivity of where they came from. Perhaps no one else in Zaun had such luxuries. Fey acquired them as gifts from the Piltover men who liked to visit the slums for shits and giggles. Oh, how she hated those men who'd otherwise turn their noses up at her, but then gave her exactly what she asked for if she batted her eyelashes or sucked their cock good enough. Fey washed her hair and dunked herself beneath the cold water. Wash, rinse, repeat.

When she felt like she got the dumpster smell off of her, Fey emptied the tub and heaved herself onto the bathtub sill to dry off. She wore her nightgown with nothing beneath and reattached her prosthetics. Her "bedroom" was the loft in the mezzanine area up the metal staircase. Her queen-sized bed was courtesy of those slum-exploring rats from Piltover, but the beauty part was that none of them ever got to see it. Jokes on them. Exhaustion hit her body like a train once she crawled beneath the sheets. It took only a short while before Fey drifted off to dreamless sleep.

[meeko-mar]

Can I just compare Bakudeku to Korrasami for just a moment

Not as in, their relationship, but in terms of fandom experience, perception and how it became Canon.

So, some years ago, LOK was on it's 4th and final season. So of course, shipping discourse was high. Who would Korra end up with? Would she end up single, be back with Mako?

Or....there was a big calling for the couple Korrasami, that is, Korra and her female friend Asami, to get together.

Now, up until the point of the finale, (and grant that I haven't watched in a while so I'm speaking in an overall sense and recalling my experience) Asami and Korra had been teaming up more and more. Korra had been really, badly, injured in the last season, leading to her isolating herself in the SWT for about 2 or 3 years to heal with Katara, and upon heading back to Empire City, she takes an abrupt turn to spend more time isolated and on a sort of spirit journey in the wild because she didn't feel ready to face her destiny and her friends and was suffering from PTSD. She later returns to EC, and to Asami, and they are close together for the season.

This all caught the attention of the Korrasami shippers who had, at the time, kind of only been casually shipping them because, hey, wouldn't it be nice? and they were slowly and steadily getting more crumbs, and the ship gathered momentum as the seasons progressed.

But lo and behold, everyone else was saying such things as:

"they're a female/female ship, it will never happen, even if you want it to" (even shippers of Korrasami were resigned to this because the precedent in youth animation in western cartoons at the time, was of course, not inclusive of same sex couplings).

We SAW the subtle development between the two and DARED to hope and dream that it might one day become canon, even though we thought it unlikely because of the trend towards heteronormativity. We saw their interactions and toiled over if they were trying to hint at something more between them.

"They're just friends. You're reading into it"

Because the "just friends" behavior of Korrasami in later seasons were:

-Asami being deeply supportive of Korra when she was injured (and for a time, disabled) Like, literally, getting on a knee, putting her hand into Korra's and saying "I'm here for you, for ANYTHING you need" kind of supportive, even offering to COME to the SWT with her. (Korra sacrificed her desire to have Asami close because she didn't want Asami to drop her duties as basically a CEO to tend to her)

-Korra receiving letters from all of her friends during her healing period, but ONLY responding, in a very beautiful letter, to Asami's.

-Korra honestly apologizing for being gone so long without writing more than one letter or sharing more of what was going on or where she went

-Asami complimenting Korra's new hair and Korra BLUSHING and looking SO charmed(and returning the compliment of how amazing Asami always looks) --there is no hetero explanation for this.

-being battle partners and constantly having each other's backs

-Asami protecting Korra from pursuing enemies while she's in the Spirit World(leaving her physical body vulnerable)

-other characters in their circles being literally like "What's going on with you two??"

-Culminating in the final episode after the final battle with Asami breaking down, confessing that she wouldn't know what she had done if she had lost Korra in that final battle(she'd even lost her father the same day) AND THEN Korra comforting her and suggesting that they, the two of them, alone, take a trip together, to get away from it all for a bit.

-It ends, when They literally walk into the spirit world portal holding hands and staring lovingly into each other's eyes as the camera pans from them into the spirit portal

Which, LET ME TELL YOU, watching this when it first premiered, for the first time, WAS AN ALMOST TRANSCENDENT EXPERIENCE. It was a soft scene, emotional, beautifully animated, and the MUSIC just hit you right in the heart. Like, they didn't even kiss to really hammer it in that THEY ARE IN LOVE, however, it was an EMOTIONAL PAYOFF and there was NO arguing that they were not a couple. Creators soon after confirmed, yes, they are both bisexual women, and they are in love.

And so, you could definitely say that Korrasami could have been interpreted as just "Very Good Friends" behavior, of "Gals being Pals", and many people DID argue that, and would later claim that there wasn't "enough build-up to the relationship". And part of the atmosphere in media back then(esp. Nickelodeon at the time) they really couldn't be blatant about it up until that ending. It was even a thing that Nickelodeon had been kind of shooting them in the foot for a while with switching around air times, and eventually taking it off air and putting it only available to view ON THEIR WEBSITE. There was a lot of fuckery with the studio at the time, and It wouldn't have been far off to think that they had issue with the idea of this series ending with two girls together romantically.

..

It just kind of makes me think of people telling BKDK, not only "They're m/m, it'll never happen in shonen manga" but ALSO anything from "they hate eachother" to "They are toxic because Bakugou bullied him(blatant disregard for any current development of Bakugou's character) and so it can never ever happen" to "Ok sure they're becoming friends again, but that doesn't mean they love each other or will by the end of the story"

When arguably, Korrasami was basically given the same dismissal.

And my dudes, it's only gonna get more intense from here.

Like, Bakugou and Izuku are friends now(again). There's no denying that. They would literally die for one another. Their relationship, and the emotions between the two of them in the coming arcs will only be compounded, with how the last arc left off and how Izuku SUDDENLY left and how Bakugou has so many unresolved feelings, and how, like Korra being the Avatar and having to save the world multiple times over(and the PTSD she got from it), Izuku is carrying a heavy burden that Bakugou is determine to help him see it through to the end without LOSING Izuku in the process. Their stories are so closely tied together and they are SET to return to each other, and it CANNOT end WITHOUT them being together, in some capacity, even if it is just platonic.

So...I wouldn't write BKDK off just yet. We're at the same spot right now that Korrasami shippers were when they were starting to seriously think that there was something canon about Korrasami.

So, Am I saying that I for sure, 100% believe that BKDK will become romantically canon? Not really; the hurdle of it being a Shonen-oriented manga being actively marketed for boys, is admittedly a huge hurdle to overcome, and I, as an American, cannot begin to understand all of the cultural barriers, or implications breaking any of those barriers would have to a Japanese audience or for Horikoshi/his career as a manga-ka.

I still don't know what Horikoshi is thinking when it comes to BKDK, he's obviously very private and all we can do is speculate on what he feels about it; there's still a possibility, however small, that he may actually be the biggest BKDK of us all, and "telling the story he wants to tell" may yet include BKDK becoming canon(that quote may also have nothing whatsoever to do with any romance, but we don't know)...But, much like I was at the point in the Korrasami tale, I'm still painfully aware of the precedent that remains in the way.

Like the Korrasami tale, though, I suppose there is that possibility that we will see something completely amazing and groundbreaking, and I will once again have that transcendent experience where an unlikely ship suddenly becomes reality. At this state in the Korrasami tale, I had NO IDEA that we were shipping the real, canon deal, and it honestly surprised me, being that I usually attach myself to something that never becomes canon, lol(*cough*Zutara).

We're in the thick of it now, we just gotta wait it out and see.

[gardenofkore]

The Theory of the Sicilian Origin of the Odyssey refers to a particular trend (particularly fashionable during the 19th century) according to which the true author of the Odyssey was a young woman from Trapani, who took inspiration from people and places familiar to her to write this famous epic poem. The postulation was made especially renowned after Victorian novelist Samuel Butler published his work The Authoress of the Odyssey in 1897 and is still debated nowadays. The main reasonings who could support the theory of a female writer are the fact that, in the Odyssey, women are depicted as more reasonable and positive than men, who act almost mechanically and aren’t as exalted as their female counterparts. While Iliad’s women are creatures who need to be protected, Odyssey’s women rule, counsel and protect. When Ulysses reaches Scheria, Nausicaa advises him to plead for help from Queen Arete rather than King Alcinous. No woman in the Odyssey is made fun of, and almost everyone of them is treated with respect, except if they committed a serious crime (like Penelope’s unfaithful handmaidens, who are showed no mercy) while men aren’t considered trustworthy and able. Also, the text is peppered with small errors (about navigation, the structure of a ship, the shape of a weapon etc) which no male author could have made.

Who, then, was she?

I cannot answer this question with the confidence that I have felt hitherto. So far I have been able to demonstrate the main points of my argument; on this, the most interesting question of all, I can offer nothing stronger than presumption.

We have to find a woman of Trapani, young, fearless, self-willed, and exceedingly jealous of the honour of her sex. She seems to have moved in the best society of her age and country, for we can imagine none more polished on the West coast of Sicily in Odyssean times than the one with which the writer shews herself familiar. She must have had leisure, or she could not have carried through so great a work. She puts up with men when they are necessary or illustrious, but she is never enthusiastic about them, and likes them best when she is laughing at them; but she is cordially interested in fair and famous women.

I think she should be looked for in the household of the person whom she is travestying under the name of King Alcinous. The care with which his pedigree and that of his wife Arēte is explained (vii. 54-77), and the warmth of affectionate admiration with which Arēte is always treated, have the same genuine flavour that has led scholars to see true history and personal interest in the pedigree of Æneas given in "Il." XX. 200-241. Moreover, she must be a sufficiently intimate member of the household to be able to laugh at its head as much as she chose. [...]

Lastly, she must be looked for in one to whom the girl described as Nausicaa was all in all. No one else is drawn with like livingness and enthusiasm, and no other episode is written with the same, or nearly the same, buoyancy of spirits and resiliency of pulse and movement, or brings the scene before us with anything approaching the same freshness, as that in which Nausicaa takes the family linen to, the washing cisterns. The whole of Book vi. can only have been written by one who was throwing herself into it heart and soul.

All the three last paragraphs are based on the supposition that the writer was drawing real people. That she was drawing a real place, lived at that place, and knew no other, does not admit of further question; we can pin the writer down here by reason of the closeness with which she has kept to natural features that remain much as they were when she portrayed them; but no traces of Alcinous’s house and garden, nor of the inmates of his household will be even looked for by any sane person; it is open, therefore, to an objector to contend that though the writer does indeed appear to have drawn permanent features from life, we have no evidence that she drew houses and gardens and men and women from anything but her own imagination.

[...]

Richly endowed with that highest kind of imagination which consists in wise selection and judicious application of materials derived from life, she fails, as she was sure to do, when cut off from a base of operation in her own surroundings. This appears most plainly in the three books which tell of the adventures of Ulysses after he has left Mt. Eryx and the Cyclopes. There is no local detail in the places described; nothing, in fact, but a general itinerary such as she could easily get from the mariners of her native town. With this she manages to rub along, helping herself out with fragments taken from nearer home, but there is no approach to such plausible invention as we find in Gulliver's Travels, Robinson Crusoe, or Pilgrim's Progress; and when she puts a description of the land of Hades into the mouth of Circe (x. 508–515)—which she is aware must be something unlike anything she had ever witnessed—she breaks down and gives as a scene which carries no conviction. Fortunately not much detail is necessary here; in Ithaca, however, a great deal is wanted, and feeling invention beyond her strength she does not even attempt it, but has recourse with the utmost frankness to places with which she is familiar.

Not only does she shirk invention as much as possible in respect of natural features, but she does so also as regards incident. She can vilipend her neighbours on Mt. Eryx as the people at Trapani continue doing to this day, for there is no love lost between the men of Trapani and those of Mte. S. Giuliano, as Eryx is now called. She knows Ustica: the wind comes thence, and she can make something out of that; then there is the other great Sican city of Cefalù—a point can be made here; but with the Lipari islands her material is running short. She has ten years to kill, for which, however, eight or eight-and-a-half may be made to pass. She cannot have killed more than three months before she lands her hero on Circe's island; here, then, in pity's name let him stay for at any rate twelve months—which he accordingly does.

She soon runs through her resources for the Sirens’ island, and Scylla and Charybdis; she knows that there is nothing to interest her on the East coast of Sicily below Taormina—for Syracuse (to which I will return) was still a small pre-Corinthian settlement, while on the South coast we have no reason to believe that there was any pre-Hellenic city. What, she asked herself, could she do but shut Ulysses up in the most lonely island she could think of—the one from which he would have the least chance of escaping—for the remainder of his term? She chose, therefore, the island which the modern Italian Government has chosen, for exactly the same reasons, as the one in which to confine those who cannot be left at large—the island of Pantellaria; but she was not going to burden Calypso for seven long years with all Ulysses’ men, so his ship had better be wrecked.

This way out of the difficulty does not indicate a writer of fecund or mature invention. She knew the existence of Sardinia, for Ulysses smiles a grim Sardinian smile (xx. 302). Why not send him there, and describe it with details taken not from the North side of Trapani but from the South? Or she need not have given details at all—she might have sent him very long journeys extending over ever so many years in half a page. If she had been of an inventive turn there were abundant means of keeping him occupied without having recourse to the cheap and undignified expedient of shutting him up first for a year in one island, and then for seven in another. Having made herself so noble a peg on which to hang more travel and adventure, she would have hung more upon it, had either strength or inclination pointed in that direction. It is one of the commonplaces of Homeric scholars to speak of the voyages of Ulysses as "a story of adventurous travel." So in a way they are, but one can see all through that the writer is trying to reduce the adventurous travel to a minimum.

See how hard put to it she is when she is away from her own actual surroundings. She does not repeat her incidents so long as she is at home, for she has plenty of material to draw from; when she is away from home, do what she may, she cannot realise things so easily, and has a tendency to fall back on something she has already done. Thus, at Pylos, she repeats the miraculous flight of Minerva (iii. 372) which she had used i. 320. On reaching the land of the Læstrygonians Ulysses climbs a high rock to reconnoitre, and sees no sign of inhabitants save only smoke rising from the ground—at the very next place he comes to he again climbs a high rock to reconnoitre, and apparently sees no sign of inhabitants but only the smoke of Circe's house rising from the middle of a wood. He is conducted to the house of Alcinous by a girl who had come out of the town to fetch a pitcher of water (vii. 20); this is repeated (x. 105) when Ulysses’ men are conducted to the house of the Læstrygonian Antiphates, by a girl who had come out of the town to fetch a pitcher of water. The writer has invented a sleep to ruin Ulysses just as he was well in sight of Ithaca (x. 31, &c.). This is not good invention, for such a moment is the very last in which Ulysses would be likely to feel sleepy—but the effort of inventing something else to ruin him when his men are hankering after the cattle of the Sun is quite too much for her, and she repeats (xii. 338) the sleep which had proved so effectual already. So, as I have said above, she repeats the darkness on each occasion when Ulysses seems likely to stumble upon Trapani. Calypso, having been invented once, must do duty again as Circe—or vice versâ, for Book x. was probably written before Book v.

Such frequent examples of what I can only call consecutive octaves indicate a writer to whom invention does not come easily, and who is not likely to have recourse to it more than she can help. Having shown this as regards both places and incidents, it only remains to point out that the writer's dislike of invention extends to the invention of people as well as places. The principal characters in the "Odyssey" are all of them Scherian. Nestor, Ulysses, Menelaus and Alcinous are every one of them the same person playing other parts, and the greater zest with which Alcinous is drawn suggests, as I have said in an earlier Chapter, that the original from whom they are all taken was better known to the writer in the part of Alcinous than in that of any of the other three. Penelope, Helen, and Arēte are only one person, and I always suspect Penelope to be truer to the original than either of the other two. Idothea and Ino are both of them Nausicaa; so also are Circe and Calypso, only made up a little older, and doing as the writer thinks Nausicaa would do if she were a goddess and had an establishment of her own. I am more doubtful about these last two, for they both seem somewhat more free from that man-hatred which Nausicaa hardly attempts to conceal. Still, Nausicaa contemplates marrying as soon as she can find the right person, and, as we have seen, neither Circe nor Calypso had a single man-servant of their own, while Circe was in the habit of turning all men who came near her into pigs or wild beasts. Calypso, moreover, is only made a little angry by being compelled to send Ulysses away. She does not seem to have been broken-hearted about it. Neither of them, therefore, must be held to be more fond of men than the convenience of the poem dictated. Even the common people of Ithaca are Scherians, and make exactly the same fault-finding ill-natured remarks about Penelope (xxiii. 149-151) as the Phæacians did about Nausicaa in Book vi. 273-288.

If, then, we observe that where the writer's invention is more laboured she is describing places foreign to her own neighbourhood, while when she carries conviction she is at or near her own home, the presumption becomes very strong that the more spontaneous scenes are not so much invention as a rendering of the writer's environment, to which it is plain that she is passionately attached, however much she may sometimes gird at it. I, therefore, dismiss the supposition of my supposed objector that the writer was not drawing Alcinous’ household and garden from life, and am confirmed in this opinion by remembering that the house of Ulysses corresponds perfectly with that of Alcinous—even to the number of the women servants kept in each establishment.

Being limited to a young woman who was an intimate member of Alcinous’ household, we have only to choose between some dependant who idolised Nausicaa and wished to celebrate her with all her surroundings, or Nausicaa (whatever her real name may have been) herself. 

[...]

 The fact that in the washing day episode, so far as possible, we find Nausicaa, all Nausicaa, and nothing but Nausicaa, among the female dramatis person, indicates that she was herself the young woman of Trapani, a member of the household of King Alcinous, whom we have got to find, and that she was giving herself the little niche in her work which a girl who was writing such a work was sure to give herself.

[...]

At the same time I think it highly probable that the writer of the "Odyssey" was both short and plain, and was laughing at herself, and intending to make her audience laugh also, by describing herself as tall and beautiful. She may have been either plain or beautiful without its affecting the argument.

I wish I could find some one who would give me any serious reason why Nausicaa should not have written the "Odyssey." For the last five years I have pestered every scholar with whom I have been able to scrape acquaintance, by asking him to explain why the "Odyssey" should not have been written by a young woman. 

Samuel Butler, The Authoress of the Odyssey

[yodawgiherd]

Cabin at Nighttime

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Aaand there is the second part of modern cottagecore, more M-rated, so beware if that is not your cup of tea.

For Mikasa, it was like watching movie scenes unfolding in front of her eyes. It could happen anytime around the cabin, during any activity, if there was a pattern to it then she failed to see it. Yet while the images bled to reality, Mikasa always knew that is real and what isn’t - the underlying feeling of sadness and abandoned duty that followed these visions made them easy to identify. When she walked to the edge of the small forest, she saw dream Eren chopping wood, his hair in that unfamiliar undercut. She saw him carrying a huge fish, a proud smile pulling at his lips. She also witnessed a lot of intimate moments, hugs, and gentle kisses scattered all around the cabin, and if it wasn’t her as one of the actors Mikasa would feel like intruding. It was so precious, what the two of them had, but there was that sadness every time, the feel that it was just a utopia, a daydream. The dread wasn’t caused only by the mission they ran from to be together, but a new faint feeling tingled its way into Mikasa’s bones.

It was a few scenes. In one, Eren was coughing into a handkerchief, and when he pulled it away from his mouth it was tainted red. In the next, Mikasa was watching him struggle with a log, tears in her eyes before she quickly crossed the distance to help him. All these visions were drenched in that sad feeling, in the helplessness, it made her own eyes water. Not from the pain this time, but from the tragedy of it all.

“He was dying.”, she said out of nowhere, making Eren look up from the small fire he was cultivating.

He knew right away of who Mikasa spoke.

“Why? Was he sick?”

“Yes…” a tingle, “Or no, it was more like… a curse?”

“Curse?”

“Yes, a curse that was killing him, and he didn’t have much time left.”

“Was there no cure?”

Mikasa shook her head, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of hopelessness. Eren must have felt it because he abandoned the fire in favor of sitting next to her, wrapping her shivering form in a hug. Closing her eyes she pressed her body close to his.

“Poor guy,”, Eren stated, “Ran away to be with the love of his life and still got cursed to die young. Dude can’t catch a break.”

“Eren..”, she frowned at him but he kissed it away with an easy smile.

Mikasa had to remind herself that Eren didn’t feel the presence like she did. Sure, he was the understanding and supportive boyfriend who did everything in his power to make her feel better, but he didn’t have these nightmares, these visions. His mind wasn’t weighted down by the impending doom, creeping around the corners of the cabin.

So why stay, one could ask. Why stay in the place where Mikasa saw ghosts around the corners? The answer was simple – it was a gut feeling. Mikasa felt right here, almost as if she came home after years and years of being abroad. Yes, there was sadness and guilt but there was also joy and happiness and it all mixed in an addictive way. Most importantly, she knew that it was correct to be here, the universe demanded it.

To be completely honest, Eren had a tiny fear that he might be bored at the cabin, his brain hardwired to all the action living in a city brought. It turned out to be completely wrong because he was anything but. Instead of twiddling his thumbs, he was now fuzzing over Mikasa ever since her small collapse, making sure that she has everything she could ask for. As a doctor, he knew that these visions might be a symptom of a mental illness, but she wasn’t showing anything else apart from them. Mikasa wasn’t delusional, she didn’t confuse reality and her dreams, she could answer his questions clearly and correctly. For now, he kept it as an open topic, making a mental note to ask Hitch about it once they get back to the city. He could call her, but the situation wasn’t urgent and he would very much prefer to hear her opinion over a few drinks.

The place was something else, and if Mikasa didn’t like it so much he would probably call it a shack instead. At least it had running water, a fact that Eren was very grateful for. With technology and the hustle of the city far beyond them, they spent their time doing downright childish and primitive things. They swam, splashing around in the cold ocean water like careless kids. They hiked, taking in the natural beauty of the countryside. With Mikasa not having another one of her episodes, Eren even left her alone for a bit and tried fishing, only to discover that he is terrible at it. Staring at the bait, unmoving in the water, he couldn’t suppress a groan. Damn water creatures, they must be plotting against him. His evening got marginally better once he returned, seeing Mikasa preparing the outside table for dinner.

“What did you catch?”, she asked with a smile, obviously seeing that Eren wasn’t carrying any fish.

“My love for you.”, he replied before producing a small flower he picked, offering it as a gift.

Mikasa accepted it, putting it into her hair, and the hour spent being taunted by fishes just didn’t matter anymore. It was the 21st century, so they weren’t dependent on Eren’s ability, or rather inability, to fish - the food they brought would do. Cooking it over the small fire, they ate in relative silence, taking in the embrace of nature they found themselves in. After that, Eren produced a few more sweet treats from his bag and to Mikasa’s delight prepared hot chocolate and marshmallows. The shadows grew long and the evening steadily progressed into the night while they huddled on the bench, bundled in a blanket and with Mikasa once again shamelessly abusing the heat Eren’s body produced.

“Did you have any more visions?”, he asked cautiously, rubbing her shoulder.

“A few, but they were very faint.”, she snuggled closer into his embrace, “But I have this strange feeling while I’m here.”

“What’s that?”

“I think… I feel like Mikasa was pregnant.”

“Well damn, the brats were faster than us?”, Eren snickered, “Guess they didn’t have careers to focus on.”

“They did.”, Mikasa disagreed, “They had a whole mission of saving the world. They abandoned it to be together.”

“Romantic.”, with a gentle hand, Eren dragged his fingers through Mikasa’s hair, loving the silkiness of the natural black and the few artificially red strands, “Yet sad at the same time.”

“Very sad.”

“It does bring an interesting question.”, Eren continued,  “Would you abandon your career to be with me?”

Mikasa thought about it, deeply and carefully. She loved fighting, loved the freedom she had in the ring, loved working on herself and her body. Overcoming obstacles and winning against impossible odds made her feel strong, invincible. But despite all these facts, despite her loving MMA so much, she knew the answer.

“I would. Both fighting and modeling, for you I’d do it.”

“I think I would too, even if it would be tearing me up inside. If I couldn’t help people anymore, couldn’t set them free from their injuries…”, he took a deep breath, his chest expanding where Mikasa leaned on it, “Still, you are way too important for me. I would drop it all to be with you because living without Mikasa in my life is not worth it.”

Mikasa fell asleep out here, bundled up with Eren, but she woke when he carried her inside and put her to bed. Why? Because that old thing creaked terribly.

“Sorry…”, he murmured, making her snicker.

“Hardly your fault.”

“I’d prefer if you slept peacefully.”

“Is it because of the visions? I told you not to worry, only the first one was painful.”

She got up, stretched a bit, and went to change into her sleeping clothes. Eren mirrored her actions, and for a moment the only sounds in the cabin were the rustles of fabric.

“Would you look at that.”, he remarked once they were both changed, “There is only one bed.”

“Guess we will have to share.”, she plopped down on it, making the bed creak again, “I hope that you will not try to take advantage of the situation, good sir.”

“I wouldn’t dare ma’am.”

To her surprise, Eren did just that, lying down and pulling the covers over himself at a respectful distance from her.

“I wish you a good night, lady Mikasa.”

Eren’s back to her, Mikasa looked with a raised eyebrow as he did exactly nothing. When the silence stretched, she poked him in the shoulder.

“Hey Eren, you know that it was a joke right. I would very much prefer if you did something very inappropriate to me.”

He turned, the moon reflecting in his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“What, are you scared that sex might bring back more of the memories?”

“I don’t rightly know.”, he confessed, “You had a headache from touching a bench, I have no idea what your triggers are.”

“Babe, stop worrying for a second,”, Mikasa grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging his face to hers, “And kiss me, you fool.”

He did so, and then it was the familiar dance. Clothing was torn and thrown away from their bodies, careless where it would land, littering the interior. Only once they were bare to each other did Mikasa roll on her back with Eren falling on top, their mouths not leaving one another for a second. She opened herself up to him, letting him have all the control when he pinned her hands above her head, their fingers entwining together on the aged sheets. There was no resistance from her when their groins touched, when Eren pressed his hardness against her heat, forcing her body to arch so beautifully. Their lips mashed together, hard and bruising, and soon the lack of air made them pant. Mikasa breathed with tiny soft moans that somehow tugged at his heart at the same time as his groin. His love and adoration for her were absolute, both physical and spiritual. That was until he felt something very cold rub against his legs. Despite his primal hunger for her, Eren tore himself away from Mikasa’s lips.

“Geez, your feet are freezing.”

Her response was a giggle and even more insistent cold rub.

“Then warm me up.”

Seeing her smile and hearing her laugh was intoxicating, making Mikasa happy was very high on Eren’s priority list. Angling his head he licked a long stripe, all the way from her collarbone to her pierced earlobe.

“All right.”

And then he was kissing her again because he loved her more than anything, even with her freezing feet. There was no one else he could even imagine doing this with because no one was like Mikasa. He knew her body, he knew it so well, yet Eren traced his touch all over it, letting his hands go down from the restricting hold on her wrists. She was pinned beneath his weight but Mikasa did not mind it at all. And exploring he went, down her face that put the sun to shame to the small yet perky breasts that were now heaving with her breathing. Groping the area shamelessly Eren indulged himself, playing with Mikasa’s chest until her breaths grew even more desperate. Her nipples were coming to life underneath his touch reacting wonderfully when he thumbed the nubs. Soon he had them fully erect, just as his cock was. The pinch he planted on the left one made Mikasa groan into the kiss, a sound that was so sexy that Eren forced her to do it again by pinching the other one. Down the plane of perfectly defined abs that belonged on a statue and not a living person, and down still. Smugly ghosting over the apex of her legs, Eren’s hands anchored on her thighs instead, caressing those beautiful muscular limbs. Mikasa could feel him smirk into the kiss, he knew that he was ignoring the place where she wanted him the most. Patient, compliant for now, she would let him keep the lead. He never let her down before.

Reversing his descent, Eren slid his hands upwards over the toned legs, taking in a handful of her ass. It fascinated him and it would never stop doing so, because Eren was a weak man and the thing that he was groping was the most perfect ass that there was, fueling his primal desires to no end. A thing to worship, caress and care for every single day.

And still they kissed, breathless and growing more and more aggressive. Her tongue traced his upper lip, prodding inside and sliding alongside his wet muscle. Then it was Eren attacking, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth. Raw and dangerous yet sweet at the same time, it was like kissing and being kissed by a wild animal sometimes. Mikasa was practically panting when Eren left her mouth to bite her neck, pressing his face into that silky skin he loved so much. The pale was now marked by him, imprints of teeth and reddening marks he sucked into it, definitive proof of his conquest.

Above him, Mikasa let out a breathy laugh at all that. Sure, the bites hurt but they were immediately soothed by Eren’s tongue and lips, leaving only a pleasurable tingle behind. He could be rough but he was always there to kiss the hurt away, to let her know how loved Mikasa was. Eren could hurt her but it was a beautiful pain.

A new sting originating from her chest let Mikasa know that he was now at her breasts, ravaging them. He nipped at the underside, knowing she’s ticklish there, mixing her breathing with airy giggles. The dark nipples were already hard from his previous actions, and they felt great in his mouth when Eren pulled them in, sucking Mikasa’s breasts. And then the bite came a clamp of his teeth against the super-sensitive bud that had her crying out and arching from the bed. A pinch and roll on the other and Mikasa was shaking beneath him, her mouth open in cries and pleas.

Down he went, kissing everywhere he could, making every inch of her flawless skin as his. Her stomach, her beautifully muscled stomach, her sharp hips, the lines that guided him to the place where the fire originated in. His lips were here and there, scrape of teeth against the hipbone and gone before Mikasa took full notice, everywhere and nowhere at the same time. To say that it was driving her crazy would be an understatement. Eren had the gall to call her a tease?

She was almost begging, she almost reached down to push him there when Eren’s mouth arrived at the apex of her muscular thighs, taking a handful of her cheeks and spreading them open for him. Mikasa assisted him more than willingly, biting her bottom lip to keep the excited noises in. Eren went down on her so many times but it was something she always looked forward to, the amazing pleasure he could provide with his mouth was an experience to be enjoyed a hundred, thousand times over. It would do her no good to squeal like a schoolgirl because Eren would surely tease her for it later, but it was hard to keep it inside. Brushing the midnight bangs from her eyes Mikasa looked down, wanting to see him because Eren pleasuring her was an incredible sight. Many times she was tempted to snap a picture, a quick photo of his mouth between her legs, but didn’t do it yet. Maybe one day.

It was oddly satisfying, watching Eren between her spread thighs. The tiny part of her recalled those hurtful memories, the “I’ve always hated you Mikasa”, that pain that belonged to someone else. It was her Eren’s perfect copy who said that but look at him now. Fully devoted to her, to Mikasa’s pleasure, ignoring himself just so he can make her feel better. Hate was miles apart from what Eren felt for her, judging from his actions.

“Something funny?”, he asked, hot breath blowing over her womanhood.

Mikasa must have been smiling, she realized, smiling because she got to have this, not hate and suffering.

“No, I’m simply appreciating how nice you are to me, how attentive.”

He grinned up at her, keeping eye contact while he stuck out his tongue, licking her sex in a single wide stroke, all the way from the bottom to the top.

“This? I’m doing this solely for myself.”, his next words were a sultry whisper spoken so close to her sex that it looked like he was talking to her pussy, not to Mikasa, “I adore how you taste.”

Maybe to prove his point, maybe because he did enjoy it Eren dipped his head down to lick at her again. It wasn’t a service, it was an exchange, because Eren was in turn blessed by the sight of Mikasa’s bare stomach, tense abdominal muscles contracting with every whine and breath falling from the raven’s lips. His actions were slow and languid, licking her outsides but not dipping in yet, getting her properly worked up first. There was no rush, was there.

The two fingers that appeared by Mikasa’s lips were not a surprise and she took them eagerly into her mouth, sucking them. Once properly wet, he pulled them out and repositioned his hand between her slightly trembling thighs. Pulling his head back, Eren pushed them in and they both disappeared into her with a wet sound, making Mikasa moan out loud. A beautiful sound, that.

Eren's fingers dutifully re-explored every inch of Mikasa's sopping wet sex, made so by both her juices and his mouth, gliding from one area to the next with ease that comes from years of practice. And as always it drove Mikasa insane, her hips shifting because that smug bastard wasn’t doing what she wanted. Knowing her ticks so well, Eren ignored Mikasa’s clit that was begging for his attention beneath its hood, not touching her there in the slightest. Why? Because he loved seeing her desperate.

“Please…”, it finally came from her trembling lips, music to his ears, “Please, Eren…”

“Please what?”

“Please… do it”, her chest contracted, “… do it properly.”

It would be shameful to admit that Mikasa’s pussy was throbbing at this point, her clit so poor and unattended, but it was the truth. Eren had a thing for driving her arousal high, much higher than necessary, before doing it right. She was begging now, in that small voice that he could never say no to, and he didn’t want to in the first place. But when he moved down to obey and his cheek touched her inner thigh, Mikasa groaned.

“You have a stubble.”, she accused him, “Scratchy stubble at that.”

“It would appear so…”, to tease, Eren rubbed his face against her sensitive skin making Mikasa yelp and frown at him.

“Shave. Tomorrow.”

“I…”

“No buts.”, Mikasa reached down, grabbing his hair and angling Eren’s face back down, reminding him of his mission between Mikasa’s thighs.

“Now go on, please.”

Right. Spreading her open with his fingers, Eren dipped his tongue in, the tip of the wet muscle sliding inside her. She was scorching hot, faintly pulsing around his tongue and Eren knew that he can make these contractions much, much stronger. Delvin deeper he licked everywhere where he could reach, wiggling his tongue inside of her. At the same time his fingers attacked her clit, rubbing the tiny circles she liked, and Mikasa was finally being given the proper oral treatment. The insistent swirling of his tongue combined with the expert touches on her slowly stiffening nub as Eren was teasing it from under its hood. Letting her head fall on the bedding, she let her lover know just how much she appreciates him by moaning because that’s what he always wanted to hear. The sounds that Mikasa could make in her turned-on voice were better than any music.

He switched it up, sucked on her clit while fingering her, two digits moving in and out at a murderous tempo. The tip of his tongue stroked the bud languidly, teasing it from beneath the hood, and then his lips were wrapped around it again and he sucked. Hard. Mikasa lost control of both her voice and her hips and they were moving on their own, riding, fucking Eren’s face. Her thighs moved too, wrapping around his head and caging him in with no chance of escape.

Trapped, imprisoned by her muscular thighs, Eren had no other way out than to keep pleasuring her, but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t love when Mikasa got demanding. Surrendering to her, he crammed a third finger inside her tight pussy to join the two already there, feeling the stretch as she accommodated him. Mikasa was so incredibly hot like this, sweaty and moaning while her body shook and her beautiful face contorted in the intense pleasure he was giving her. This was heaven, this sight was paradise, and Eren was so incredibly blessed to be allowed to do this to her, to this goddess that was in his bed. He needed her to cum on his face, he needed to taste her and he needed it now.

Putting all of his experience and skill to action, Eren fingered her hard while abusing her clit with his mouth. And when he curled the fingers and pressed into that one special spot, when he let his teeth graze over her clit, Mikasa lost it. She came hard, mind-shattering orgasm ripping through her body as she drenched Eren’s face and he lapped at the sweetness, tip toying with her throbbing clit. Those strong legs squeezed him too and her hips lifted from the bed, beautiful muscles forced to contract by the waves of pleasure flying through her entire being. She was delicious and Eren made sure to lick everywhere where he could, even sucking her cum from his fingers. Yes, he adored the taste, but while he was so diligently pleasuring her through the orgasm, drawing it out and making it even better, Mikasa had another vision.

Normally, her sight went white while cumming, but now there was something else imprinted over the otherworldly nothingness. Eren’s face was hovering over her, but it was the one with short hair and not her version. His face was sweaty and a bit embarrassed when he spoke.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold myself back.”, not-Eren said in an ethereal voice. “I finished so fast…”

“Don’t worry.”, a phantom hand reached out to caress his cheek, “I don’t mind, it felt nice.”

“Not good enough,”, the other Eren disagreed, “I promise that I’ll make it up to you. I’ll get better with practice.”

Mikasa felt herself blushing, not only in one reality but in the other too, while the other Eren dipped his head down to kiss her. And that’s when the vision broke. Eren must have noticed it, must have heard her speak to his other self because his head shot up from between her legs.

“Hey? What’s wrong?”, he asked, eyes widening in alarm, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I..”, she held unto him, tightening her legs around his form and preventing Eren from fully pulling back, keeping him in, “Another memory, that’s it.”

“I thought that this was a bad idea. Am I going to get blueballed by myself? That would be somewhat next-level play.”

Mikasa chuckled.

“It wasn’t a bad memory, just unexpected.”, she reached out to smooth her fingers over the bedding, “Let’s say that we aren’t the only ones who went to town in a very similar cabin.”

“You did say that Dreamkasa was pregnant, so it’s only logical.”

She frowned at him for using that stupid nickname, but Eren’s cheeky grin didn’t budge as he climbed up her body until they were face to face again. His was wet, she noticed, as Eren never did mind having her essence all over himself. Mikasa would never admit it out loud but it was pretty hot.

“It was super sweet, they were inexperienced and oh so careful with each other.”

“I’d call myself a lot of things, but inexperienced is not one of them. Not with you around.”

“It felt good, I’m sure of that.”

“Better than me?”

“Oh Eren,”, she giggled, hands coming up to circle his wide shoulders, “Are you getting jealous of yourself?”

“Just..”, he moved low, his hot breath ghosting over her neck as he punctured the word with a bite, beginning a slow journey upwards.

“Answer”

Lick

”The”

Nip

”Damn”

Bite

”Question. ”

Kiss

”Mi”

Suck

”Ka”

Lick

”Sa”

Bite

And now he was at the top of her ears, teeth clicking against the piercings lodged into the goth’s vulnerable cartilage. He knew that the neck and ears were Mikasa’s weak points, and he abused the knowledge, fanning the fires of her just-orgasmed body.

“You! Of course that I prefer you.”, getting some self-control back, Mikasa pulled at his long hair to get Eren to face her, “I spent so long training you, what kind of teacher would I be if you sucked at sex.”

“Teacher? For a woman who almost died of shame after showing me her boobs for the first time, you have certainly grown. Miss possessive.”

“Of you? Always.”, she pecked him on the nose, “You’re mine.”

His hand went low, groping her naked ass.

“And you mine.”, he replied in a heated whisper, “All of you, even this ass. Did you know that it’s a perfect fit for the golden ratio?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your ass is a Fibonacci perfection.”

For the sake of her mental health, Mikasa decided to ghost over that comment as Eren could be somewhat strange with his compliments. She knew he meant well, and that was good enough.

“Okay, it’s yours. Why don’t you stop stalling and make me feel good, hm?”, her voice was sultry now, eyes half-lidded, “Show me how much you have learned…”

A challenge.

“Didn’t you just come?”

“So?”, single fine raven eyebrow raised, “Can’t you do it again?”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Aah, but I believe that you will sate me,”, her divine hand went low, squeezing his cock between those strong and dexterous fingers, “Right?”

He breathed hard against her naked skin, thoughts clouding. How could Mikasa make him so desperate with a single touch, that was a question Eren could never answer. Maybe trying to take advantage of his weakened state, Mikasa hooked a leg over his waist and pulled, attempting to roll them over. When Eren resisted she stopped, not wanting to force herself on top. There was a time and place for measuring strength, and this old and creaky bed wasn’t it.

To get an explanation for his actions, Mikasa tugged at his hair, getting Eren to look at the question written on her face.

“There is no way I’m letting you be on top.”, he answered the unspoken query.

“What? Why?”

“Miki, if you don’t remember, let me refresh your memory.”, his touch was back, one hand tracing the outlines of her abs while the other squeezed her thigh, “You literally broke a bedframe by riding me, and it was a much firmer than this squeaky one that’s here.”

“But I…”

“I’m not sure about you, but I don’t want to spend the night on the floor.”

Mikasa sighed, ceasing her efforts to roll him over.

“Fine.”

“Don’t you worry…”, Eren drawled out the words, kissing her neck again, “I’ll take good care of you.”

And he was inside her, pushing in with one sharp thrust that made her eyes roll back and mouth drop open. He abused that fact straight away, dropping his tongue between her lips and letting her taste herself. She was everywhere, in every crook of his mouth, every part of his face, every inch of his tongue, reminding Mikasa of how strongly he made her cum. Back and forth he fucked into her with determination, sliding in easily as her sex was drenched. Her black nails were at his back, carving into the skin, marking him with bloody wings over the tattooed ones. The sounds were wet, her moans thick, but Mikasa was Mikasa and she was a beast, impossible to tame and difficult to please.

“More…”, she half-moaned into the messy kiss. “Harder…”

With a groan and a primal need ignited in his lower belly, Eren pushed up into a kneeling position. If Mikasa wanted more, if she wanted to be fucked harder, then who was he to question his queen? Picking her legs up he put them on his shoulder, both on the left, creating a rather tight passage to squeeze through. Holding her ankles together with one of his hands, Eren anchored himself with the other and resumed the moves from earlier, picking up the pace.

Mikasa’s vision was beginning to swim. Her sounds were rising, her chest was heaving more and more, the way she panted for air was making Eren harder than diamonds. She wasn’t idle either, her hands moved, playing with her own breasts while he watched. It was arousing as hell to see, the way her slender fingers rolled the erect nipples between them, when she pinched and moaned out loud. Now it was Eren who wanted, no, needed more, overtaken by a desire to give Mikasa everything she deserves.

He needed to be closer to her heat, closer to that divine being that Mikasa was, so he pushed forward to do so. One of her legs back on the bedding, Eren kept a firm hold on the other as he spread her as wide as she could go. Mikasa groaned at the burn his move produced in her muscles, her legs being forced into a very wide angle, but it was a slight ache and easily forgotten in the heat of passion. Mikasa’s ankle was now practically resting above her own shoulder as she was half-doubled over, this position possible only because of how flexible she was. She was completely open to him, wanting nothing more than to be fucked senseless, and Eren did his best to deliver - truly rutting into her, his hips slapping into her ass again and again and again and…

She was going to have welts on her butt tomorrow.

Mikasa was moaning in sync with his thrusts, her Ah-Ah-Ah so much sweeter and better than whatever Eren’s foul mouth could produce. She was loud, no shame in how she let her pleasure vibrate out from her throat and that was music to Eren’s ears. After all, there was no need to keep silent as the animals were the only ones who could hear them. If they did mind the sounds of their lovemaking, they didn’t say so.

Intertwining their fingers, Eren marveled at how small Mikasa’s hand looked in his, how delicate. But when she squeezed and the strength reminded him that she is no helpless flower, very far from it.

It was wet and loud and powerful when he moved in and out of her, his cock soaked by them, by whatever they were doing together. The bed creaked beneath every time he thrusted, but they didn’t care. It felt like heaven to move inside Mikasa because she was so hot and so incredibly tight that Eren could never wish for more. Years, eternity, he could spend it all right at this moment when he is fucking her raw and throbbing pussy, repeating the moves over and over, disappearing and appearing out of her pulsing sex. He could spend eternity, but his physical form disagreed. It was getting too much to handle because it was so perfect, and Eren was not the only one on edge. He could feel it inside, how she pulsed more rapidly, how impossibly tighter she grew, so much that even pulling himself out to push in again was an exertion, a workout for his abdominals.

Eren didn’t understand her dreams, her visions, he didn’t understand why they happened. He didn’t have the faintest idea why he would ever, in any reality or timeline, want to hurt Mikasa. She gave him two things in her existence - undying love and devotion, and Eren could never reject these gifts. But then her muscled sheath squeezed all around his member, deep inside her, and he was reminded of one more gift that loving Mikasa brought.

The best and most intense sex one could ever ask for.

He needed help, anything to push her over first because the wave was approaching and Eren knew he can’t win. Dropping his hand low he located her clit and pressed against it, the effects almost immediate as that nub was more than sensitive at this point. Mikasa’s eyes shot open, a loud groan falling from her mouth when Eren rubbed her weak place at an almost feverish pace. The bed’s creaking was very loud too, the wooden headboard banging against the wall, almost as if the old furniture was protesting against being so shamelessly soiled. He could feel Mikasa’s wetness leaking, trickling down his shaft and down over his balls that kept slapping against her ass, and he knew that she’s right there on the edge.

If he wanted to edge her, if this was one of the nights where he tied her up and tortured her, now would be the time to stop. But tonight was not such a night, so Eren kept moving, stimulating all her weak points, and that was good enough. Her body arched beneath him into that perfect bridge, while she made that adorable face only orgasming Mikasa Ackerman can do when the second climax overtook her. One day, one day he will snap a picture of it in the perfect moment and that will be his gift to mankind.

Her moaning got louder as she came, most likely stirring a few animals from their sleep outside, but Eren loved it. He adored how loud Mikasa could get when she let herself go, when she stopped caring who heard and let her pleasure truly show. Normally she was the silent type, and it was quite a shame because her voice was beautiful and Mikasa could carry a tune perfectly. It took a long time before she was comfortable enough to sing for Eren, but when she did it was an amazing experience. The few times when they visited a karaoke bar were still lodged in his brain.

Now, Eren was making her sing quite a different tune, and it was an achievement for him knowing how good she was feeling, so good that her insecurities melted away and she was loud. But that was not all, as making Mikasa cum first was better for a multitude of reasons – it made him feel great mentally, it made her happy, but also for the selfish reason of being inside her while it happened. There is no way to describe how amazing it felt when she climaxed around him, as her body contracted and released, rapidly repeating that pattern, how her walls collapsed around his shaft and massaged, milking him. In short, it was like the most expensive sex toy in the world made specifically for his cock. Unable and not willing to resist Eren came inside her, filling her with several spurts. Way too much to fit, some of it dribbled out and down on the poor bed, making Eren smirk. They would have to change the sheets and maybe burn the ones that were here now. Filthy didn’t even begin to describe it.

For now though, he pulled out and collapsed on his back next to his sweaty lover, listening to her agitated breathing. The haze covered them both like a blanket, the pure euphoria that occurs after climaxing, nothing but unbridled happiness. Mikasa closed her eyes for a second and Eren wondered if there aren’t more visions going on in her brain, but he wouldn’t pry. If she wanted to share them with him, she would, but they were hers. With a rustle of sheets she turned towards the window, staring out into the darkness and stillness of a forest night, pondering something. At first, Eren wanted to speak up but then the moonlight shimmered over her porcelain skin and his eyes were drawn to the wings on her back. There was no better symbol for her - she was an angel, incredibly free, and when Eren was with her he felt like he could fly.

Mikasa felt his lips at her back, pressing gentle kisses against the skin before he picked up her wrist and did the same there, nuzzling it.

“What are you doing?”, she asked, not even bothering with looking away from the dark forest.

“Admiring your tattoos.”

“Again?”

“I’ll never stop doing it.”, another kiss to her wrist, “They are beautiful, just as you are.”

She giggled and rolled over to rest on his chest, shifting their position. Now they were cooling down from it all, Eren’s hand wrapped around her and gently caressed her hip.

“Hey Miki?”

“Hmmm?”, she hummed from his chest, not stopping the movement of her little finger that traced patterns into the skin.

“What if we bought this.”

“What, the bed?”

“No…”, he snickered, “The cabin. It would be nice to have a getaway from the city and the location is amazing.”

“I thought you didn’t like it.”

“Eh, I’m warming up to it.”, he squeezed her slightly, “Plus with you here, the cabin can be ugly as sin, you are the only beauty I need in the whole world.”

Mikasa snickered and kissed the underside of his jaw for that.

“Way too cheesy.”

Ha, like that would make him stop.

“Well, I am a firm believer in Mikasa supremacy. You could say that it’s my religion.”

Groaning, Mikasa hid her face in Eren’s neck to mask the crazy smile on her lips. Must have been her jittered hormones after the intense sex, the endorphin high always such a wild ride. Because yes, it was cheesy as hell but it felt great to see how much he adores her, about as much as she loved him back.

“Can you stop simping for me and tell me more about the sudden cabin-buyout plan?”

“I’ll never stop simping for you Miki, but I will tone it down if it will make my queen happy.”, squeezing her again, Eren continued with the original train of thought,  “We can rebuild it you know, upgrade it so it’s up to the living standard of the twenty-first century. It’s the location that’s amazing, this close to both mountains and the ocean and not that far away from the city.”

Mikasa pondered Eren’s proposal for a moment, but she knew the answer already.

“Sounds good. We could have gatherings here too, invite friends to take a breather with us.”

“While I’d prefer being here only with you, I guess that we can tone it down a bit if guests were over.”

When she didn’t understand what he was implying, Eren grinned down at her.

“You are quite loud during sex, and the walls are thin…”

The slap she planted on his chest was a loud one, but it did nothing to stop his laughter. Bickering back and forth over nothings, Mikasa didn’t even remember how they ended up kissing but here it was. Soon there was the familiar hardness poking her stomach and with her own embers smoldering, Mikasa was more than up for it.

She rolled on top, proving that if she wanted to Eren had no chance of stopping her. Staring up into her twinkling grey eyes, his smile turned into a small frown on the prospect of spending the rest of the night on the cabin floor. Eren loved Mikasa to death, but she was very bad at controlling her strength in the heat of their passionate lovemaking, and when that combined with how unnaturally strong she was furniture was bound to get destroyed. Or him, for that matter, if the pain in his neck and the scratches Eren could feel on his back were any proof.

“Miki please don’t, I beg…”

“Shh, I promise that I’ll be gentle. Somewhat.”

She leaned back, pulling Eren with her.

“Sit up,” she demanded.

Her desired position was with Eren sitting and her in his lap, bodies all entangled together. Mikasa loved the closeness it brought, like this she could feel every breath, every twitch from her lover. Bracing herself up on her knees, she reached blindly behind herself and found Eren’s length, easily identifiable by how he hissed when her fingertips brushed over it. Yet that hiss was nothing compared to the sound he made once she began angling him, because she let the tip pass over her pounded pussy and then he was close to the other opening, the realization making his eyes wide.

“You want to…?”

“Shut up.”

Mikasa could never do this if he wasn’t so wet, but Eren was drenched and she wasn’t much better, some of the wetness found its way down when she squirted before. Still, it made her grit her teeth when she began sinking, feeling her ass stretched to its limits by his invading girth. Anal was always more difficult, and now when there was no lube or plugs in beforehand it was hard to accommodate what Eren gave her. This was something else yet she kept impaling herself, unyielding. Huffs of breath through her nose, whole body clenching, she worked herself down on his shaft, penetrating her tight muscle ring inch by inch.

The muscles in his neck bulged and Mikasa knew that he’s fighting himself not to thrust up into her, into that tight heat that was sliding down in such a slow, torturous tempo. It didn’t help that he could feel some of his cum leak out of her other opening, now unattended, pushed out by how her inner muscles were forced to work again. Why did this filthiness turn him on so much, that was a question Eren didn’t want to answer.

Instead, he focused on her, on how she felt around him, sinking lower and lower, taking it like a champ. It was Mikasa’s show, Eren was more or less an observer right now, letting her do what she wanted. Yet he had to praise her because there was nothing else like this in the entire world, no one else could be this amazing.

“F-Fuck Miki… You feel too good.”

“S-Shut up…”, she repeated, having trouble speaking too, being stretched so much in that other place.

To stop herself from speaking and to shut Eren up too she mashed their faces together into a messy and wild kiss. And then finally, after several more up-and-down slides, she was fully sitting on his lap, his cock lodged deep inside her ass. It made her pant, the physical exertion, her abdominals fluttering. Watching those muscles move erratically, bathed in sweat as they were, that was a fucking beauty on its own. Eren didn’t even dare to move now, lest he disturbs the short rest Mikasa was taking, her head on his shoulder and the hot breath washing over his back. That was until she nudged his face with her nose, getting his attention.

“Help me…”, she moaned weakly.

“O-Okay... Okay…”, thinking was hard with her all around him, but Eren managed, “Let’s do this together.”

Mikasa nodded and braced herself on her knees while Eren grabbed her hips, lifting her. Together they moved, with Eren helping her along the ride. It was slow, way slower than how she rode him normally, but anal was always different. Mikasa circled her hips, rocked them back and forth, stretching herself more around his girth. Breathe in, breathe out, the unpleasant sting was fading and being replaced by pleasure as her butt got used to having Eren’s cock inside of it. Slow yet picking up speed, it was under Mikasa’s dictatorship with Eren playing the role of a helpful lackey. Willingly.

Her knees scrambled on the bedding and she was pushing herself up by the hands on Eren’s shoulders. Mikasa deemed herself ready for the next stage of her plan, which was finding a better purchase on the bed. Her feet finally found their place and she was squatting now, right on Eren’s lap. And then it was time to truly ride him.

Up and down she bounced, propelled by her powerful thighs, her ass sliding all over his cock, squelching it in its tight embrace. The repeated penetration finally convinced her muscles to give way, albeit just a tiny bit. It was igniting a primal need in her, the way he rubbed her insides, the tiredness burning away. Maybe it was because of her athletic body but Mikasa caught a second wind, spiraling down into a nearly animalistic state. The need for more was back, stronger than ever, so slapping her ass down onto Eren’s poor hips, she grinded into him hard.

“Come on, come on…”, it was coming through her gritted teeth, her gray eyes scorching Eren with the intensity.

“You keep saying how much you love my ass, right?.”, Mikasa practically growled the order, made wild by the overflowing feeling, “Show me.”

Normally, such words would never leave her lips but they were both far beyond normal. She was wild but Eren was no better, teeth clenched to match her. Bracing his feet against the bed he did as she asked, thrusting up to meet her descent half-way. He moved up, Mikasa moved down, their hips slapping into each other in the middle with a smack. Her ass sat down on him hard, crotch loudly protesting against being crushed like this. To help, to assist his feral goddess, Eren slipped his hand down to that squelching wet place. Spreading her open he toyed with her clit, and the multiple stimulations made Mikasa practically howl like a beast. She was an animal right now, an animal in heat reduced to its primal instincts, and Eren was fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to be her chosen mate.

Close, so close, the electricity was everywhere inside her, tickling her brain. Eren attacked with his mouth too, his teeth sinking into her neck before coming up to claim her lips. The kiss was bruising, the way she bounced on his lap too, and several things were nearing their breaking point. Mikasa, because Eren’s fingers at her clit were a godsend. Eren, because Mikasa kept grinding her ass down on him with fervor, her butt clenching so hard around his length that it hurt, reminding him how incredibly strong his lover was. And also the bed, because the old thing was not constructed to withstand this amount of wild pounding. It was a race, race on who would break first, and fortunately for all that was Mikasa.

With a last slam of her hips that pinned him and shook the bed so much that it nearly fell apart, Mikasa’s head tipped back, a wild scream tearing out of her throat as she squeezed him so hard that Eren swore out loud. It was the wild contraction of her muscles that pushed him over the edge to follow her, his cock spurting inside her with his second release, filling her ass with a smaller load. Done, finished and over, Mikasa slipped out of his hands and fell to her side, pulling herself away from his body. They laid there, side by side, catching their breath. The whole world seemed to take a breather, the animals outside wondering what kind of terrible duel took place in the usually peaceful cabin.

“God damn, Miki,”, Eren finally managed, “If I knew that a cabin would drive you this wild I would take you here ages ago.”

She chuckled, but a gust of wind from the opened window made her shiver. The sweat was cooling down and it was rather cold outside. Instinct at this point, she rolled back towards Eren’s heat, laying her hand on his chest, tangling their legs together and leeching shamelessly.

Mikasa was tired, tired from her performance and the long day, tired in the best possible way. She stilled completely and didn’t move, their bodies mashed together in one sweaty and dirty mess. Breathing hard, she could feel Eren’s chest contract beneath her, betraying that he too needed a small break from their intensive lovemaking. Yet resting while there is the mixture of your climaxes running down your thighs is hardly hygienic, so Eren stroked Mikasa’s back to get her attention, fingers tapping the bumps of her spine.

“C’mon, let’s abuse the running water and get cleaned up. This bed needs all its sheets changed or burned and I’m pretty sure that you shouldn’t be sleeping with a double creampie between your legs.”

She took a shuddering breath.

“Eren, I hate you and your dirty mouth so much.”

“Nonsense. Remember how hard you came when I ate you out?”

Done, Mikasa hid her face in Eren’s shoulder, ignoring how his body shook with the laughter.

The shower was surprisingly big, for a rundown shack like this, and it wouldn’t be Eren if he didn’t take advantage of the fact. Mikasa gasped a bit when his finger slid into her still-sensitive sex, looking at him over her shoulder.

“I told you to wash my back, not finger me.”

“I have to my sure that every part of you is clean.”, he leaned closer, “Before I make you filthy again.”

Closing her eyes, Mikasa decided not to fight her fate and let herself enjoy it. The feeling of Eren’s finger was soon joined by another one, and now there were two explorers inside her, poking and probing at the walls. Curling his hand Eren’s palm pressed against Mikasa’s clit, rubbing it slightly and getting her worked up properly. Her lover was right when he called her insatiable because Mikasa’s libido could be nigh bottomless. She blamed Eren – he knew her too well, knew her body better than his own at this point and all of her weak points were etched into his memory. He knew how to touch, how to stroke, where to press and rub and in what intervals. Mikasa’s body was a terrifying weapon, powerful and deadly in the ring, but Eren could turn it into a putty mush in his hands, all her lean muscles melting underneath his touch.

Okay, she could go again. She wanted it too because his fingers managed to re-ignite the fire between her thighs, stroking it higher and higher with every press against her clit. Reaching between her legs Mikasa tugged his hand out, turning to face Eren.

“Pick me up.”, she ordered him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Do I have to?”, he faked a pained expression, “You are so heavy.”

But Mikasa didn’t want jokes now.

“Eren, don’t.”

It was the tone in which she spoke those two words, her icy commander voice that would make him fall to his knees in the middle of a crowded street if ordered him to. It was the one that allowed no argument nor question, only blind obedience.

“Yes, my lady.”

With a grunt Eren picked her up, letting Mikasa wrap her strong legs around his waist. He was grateful for the assistance, as Mikasa’s body was heavy, but if there was one thing Eren could do after all that gym-going, it was holding up his girlfriend. The water beating down on their bodies, her eyes locked to his as she manipulated her hips blindly until his tip was resting against her folds.

“Ready?”

A single nod being the answer, Eren eased his hold on her and let gravity assist them. Of course that Mikasa had to do something, wouldn’t be her if she didn’t. Bracing on Eren’s shoulders, she let herself go slow, super slow, torturing him with the tempo. In hopes of appeasing her, he dropped his head to her exposed breasts, tonguing the red marks he left behind earlier. Mikasa’s tits would be littered with bitemarks come morning, and she was silently very grateful that there were no swimwear photoshoots on her agenda anytime soon. Sure, the makeup artists could cover the marks Eren left on her and Mikasa’s neck often had to be worked on but having them tap their brushes against her chest was something else entirely.

This time around it was no wild pounding, they were both way too exhausted for that. It was slow lovemaking with Eren pulling her up and letting the gravity push her down on his cock, over and over, until the familiar heat awoke and slid into her whole body. Mikasa came with a gasp that she hid in Eren’s shoulder and he was quick to follow, the last bits of his essence squeezed and milked out of him by her inner muscles. And then it was time to truly get cleaned and rest, although Mikasa had a faint feeling that she might not be able to walk tomorrow.

And yes, the morning proved that she was right in that assessment, but Eren was no better. With how hard Mikasa rode him, he had bruises and welts all over his hips, and his neck looked like someone was trying to choke the life out of him. Well, Mikasa did, because her thighs moved on their own while she was cumming and squeezed the poor man between them hard, but Eren was used to it at this point. With both of them out of commission, the next day was spent doing nothing and lying around, giving their bodies time to heal. Still, it was totally worth it.

Two days later, everything was falling into place. Mikasa’s visions were less and less frequent until they stopped completely, letting her know that there was nothing more the cabin could show her right now. All she could do was wait, her visions would come when the time was right.

With the closeness of the mountains they went skiing too, Mikasa acing it as she did anything that is a physical sport. Eren had his issues, not nearly as perfect as she was, but after a few hours of training and guidance from her, he could hold his own on the treacherous devices strapped to his feet. Exhausted from the skiing, they practically collapsed as soon as they were back in the cabin in dire need of rest.

Eren was fast asleep when Mikasa woke, slipping from his embrace and out of the creaky bed. Making a cup of coffee for herself, she opened the door and watched as the sun slowly climbed from the horizon and up. It was so beautiful here, so peaceful, and she knew exactly what to do. Mikasa was meant to be here, this was the place where she would get her last dream, the last piece of the puzzle, the final chapter of the story. Here, she would know what happened to her other self, how she ended up. And taking a sip of the hot beverage, a tight smile spread over the raven’s lips.

Mikasa was looking forward to that.

A rustle of sheets behind her indicated that Eren was stirring about. It was like an instinct at this point – when he couldn’t feel Mikasa next to him his sleep was usually mediocre at best as if his mind is constantly checking if she’s there with him, safe and sound. Mikasa didn’t turn, keeping her eyes on the rising sun even when she heard his bare feet tapping against the wooden floor behind her. Soon she was enveloped in a warm hug from behind.

“Hi.”, he whispered into her ear, kissing her cheek after.

“Morning. There’s coffee if you want some.”

“Hmmm, later…”, he yawned behind her, “I’ll keep hugging you for a bit longer.”

With a smile Mikasa put her hand on his, intertwining their fingers. And feeling it, feeling the fingers splayed on her stomach reminded her of something, a faint feel of memory hitting her again. They stood like this, exactly like this, with Mikasa gazing out and Eren behind her, but there was one significant difference. There was a baby bump on her midriff, beneath their intertwined hands.

Mikasa took a sharp breath through the nose once she realized that, looking down. There was no baby, of course, her and Eren’s hands were nestled against her firm abdominals. But in her mind’s eye, she could see it, and to her surprise Mikasa liked that image. The implant in Mikasa’s arm burned for a second, reminding her of its presence and function.

Her mood was completely shattered when Eren rubbed his cheek against hers, his stubble scratching her and reminding Mikasa of the night before.

“Eren, the shaving?”, she reminded him gently yet didn’t pull away, enduring the feeling.

“Hmmm.”

“I could shave you, you know.”

“That would be nice.”, he pressed a quick kiss to the side of her neck, “Thank you.”

“Could cut your hair too…”

“As long as you don’t give me an undercut.”

“Why’s that?”

“Miki I love you but I don’t want to be reminded of Levi every time I look in the mirror.”, he shuddered behind her, “When he sees us kissing my life flashes in front of my eyes.”

“You have to overcome the fear of my brother.”

“It’s not fear, it’s respect.”

“Oh? And why do you respect him that much then?”

“Because he is so similar to you! It’s like a shorter and much grumpier male version of you who doesn’t love me at all. And that is scary, because I know how much stronger than me you are, and I’d go as far as saying that your brother dislikes me.”

“Just stronger?”

“Well, way more beautiful too, but that doesn’t count with Levi.”

“You have it all figured out, huh.”

“For sure. You are stronger than me and Armin is smarter, so if we ever get into a real conflict I’ll argue with you and fight Armin.”

She laughed at that, marking Eren’s mission of making his angel happy as complete. With that he buried his face in Mikasa’s neck completely, filling his nose with the pleasant smell of her natural scent. She was giggling, the heavenly sound in his ears, and that was simply the best way to start a morning.

“All right then.”, she reached out to pat his cheek, scratching it gently, retaliation for the agony his beard caused her, “Just don’t shit your pants when Levi walks me down the aisle.”

His voice was muffled against her skin.

“You want him at our wedding? Ugh…”

“Eren, he is my brother. Behave.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Giving up on morning Yeager, Mikasa took hold of her coffee with both hands and took another long sip. Maybe roused by the sound Eren raised his head.

“Let me have a taste?”

“Sure, here…”, she almost handed him the cup before realizing what he meant, “Oh..”

With a grin Eren took a hold of her chin, angling her head so he could kiss her. It felt nice, especially when his tongue swept against the seam of her lips and she let him in, touching it with her own. And when he pulled back and smacked his lips, Mikasa smiled because of the raw happiness she felt.

“How is it?”

“Good, I feel like I need a cup myself.”

“Do you?”

“Maybe, let me have another taste to be sure.”

So Mikasa kissed him again and they stood there tangled together while the sun steadily climbed over the horizon. And everything felt right.

[arent-you-scared-lil-human]

Bølger (2)

Merman!Kae x Reader.

Words: 3,183

bølger means waves.

Chapter 1.

Merfolk were almost divine to your eyes, living near the coast gave you the blessing of discovering these amazing creatures, well, or the thought of actually seeing them. 

You were 7 when your mother gave your guard to your aunt Betty, your mom grew sick and she wanted to be sure you would be cared for when she passed. But it took her cancer to reach stage 4 to allow you to live with Betty. 

The thing was, your mother hated the coast, the town, and the ocean.

When Betty went to visit you, she would take small cards with fairies, merfolk, werewolves painted on it. She would tell you to believe in magic and accept that we aren't alone on the big blue planet.

Which made your mother mad because she hated the mere idea of mermaids, so much that the little mermaid movie was never allowed. But she had to swallow her revulsion to be sure you would be cared for and not thrown on the orphanage in the end.

So you went to live on Walrey Coast with your aunt. She was a good woman, a bit light-headed but good nonetheless. She taught you how to cook, even though you hated it, taught you how to work in her small restaurant and how to read and love Julio Verne's work. 

The house was small but notably comfy and colorful, each room had a color and somehow it didn't get overwhelming. Your bedroom had fairies painted on the walls, and a lamp with a mermaid painted in gold.

But you never saw a mermaid or a merman in your life.

And since your city was a small place each person ended up knowing another.  You were homeschooled till your 11, but Antony -your aunt friend- told that his nephews were your age and that his sister could teach you too.

Antony's nephews were three, a girl called Hope, and two boys, Archie and Hunter. Hope and Archie were twins, and Hunter was a year younger but their mom taught them the things at the same time so they could always be together if they ever went to a "normal" school.

So, with your 20's and seeing Archie leaving the town to persuade his dream university made you happy, but sad in seeing Carla's tears, after all, she always wanted her kids together.

"C'mon, Y/N, I consider you like a daughter so let us re-form your brother's bedroom..." Carla tried to smile through her tears, Hunter hugged you and Hope rolled her eyes at her brother's trial of reaching your interest, the poor boy has been crushing over you for 6 years already.

You kept your routine of woking at your aunty Betty restaurant, Antony tried to coax you to leave town and go to uni -as every elderly person tries to tell us to-; But something held you in Walrey Coast, maybe it was the trauma of the last time that you left your home was due to a loved one passing, or maybe Betty being abandoned in her big picturesque house... or who knows, perhaps something else, something unseen, or forgotten.

Hope didn't want to go to university, she craved to open an auto-shop, Carla said she didn't mind, but everyone knew deep down she wanted her small girl to be the perfect wife-to-be. And Hunter wanted to become a biologist, the boy adored the sea more than the air he inhaled and after years and years of Antony pulling his ear telling him that the idea of being a professional surfer was as idiotic as his hair, he swallowed down and picked another profession that connected the sea, too.

You loved them, and the town, but you were lonely. You had your first kiss, and even that you studied in "not a homeschool but it was basically one" you knew the other people in town, the men in their 20's that lived near and also the visitors that came and go. And working in the restaurant you saw lots of people, soldiers, biologists, families, even sailors, travelers, wanderers, et cetera. 

So you had your 'first times' but nothing serious, and even that Hunter tried several times to date you, you couldn't see him farther than a brother. He was attractive, smart, polite, liked animals as you do but he was... a brother. Through and through.

So your life was based around this minimalist and simple presence. Waking up, helping Betty at home, go to the restaurant, visit Carla and your dear friends, go back to the restaurant, sit in the pier where Antony lived while you ate your dinner looking at the sea, go home, shower and sleep.

Antony tried to make you go swimming or try to surf with Hunter, but you were terrified of the ocean, you loved it, it was fascinating and very very beautiful, but scary.

Dangerous.

Yet, gazing at it brought you a level of peace that couldn't be accomplished in any other form.

So finishing your meal and making sure to set any trash inside a bag so you could throw in the trashcan later, you stood up and gave one last look at the dark waters and went home.

Deep in the waves, stood Kae, gazing at you leaving your favorite spot in the docks, each day you went there and in each one he approached the surface to make you company, a silent one.

Sometimes you hummed a song, one that of course he had not heard before. And sometimes you would put music to play in a small black device he saw humans carrying around all the time, the music was a mixture, but he enjoyed them, and loved when you sang along.

Merfolk took singing into high consideration, it was important to lull food, to find a good partner, to... well, everything!

And he hummed back with you, but he knew you didn't hear him. You didn't remember him.

It was funny how different worlds that co-existed, should know about another, should collide.

Humans are evil, everyone says. But what Eros did with you wasn't it? Hurting an innocent cub, or better saying: a child, and bringing your unconscious body as a trophy was the most repugnant thing he ever witnessed. After that episode years prior, Kae never glanced at his cousin in the same way, Eros was still family, but he wasn't the good merman Kae thought he was.

And with their adult forms and getting the spot of protectors of the ocean society, the mating season was approaching. 

Jaxi was in love with a mermaid that was from oceans away, they found each other in a hunt for food and after that, they've been planning their wedding ever since. Melin grew to be an insatiable lover, the mating season was an open feast to him, especially since it didn't involve a mandatory loyalty. Eros had the most beautiful sea creatures he could find, he was handsome and strong, but he was a player, which wasn't so shocking.

And Kae had some encounters, had his first sex in his 16's but he didn't like the notion of marrying and being away from the bare soil, away from his little friend that didn't even remember his existence.

He wonders if you still have Eros's nails wounds scarred in your skin, or maybe you healed after he rolled the algae around it? The alkaline water helped sea beings to heal and regenerate their skin, maybe oxygen did it too to humans? And if it hasn't healed, have you ever questioned the origin of it?

Kae didn't see himself as a stalker, he was more of a curious merman. And after leaving you in the waves near the sand, he has been reaching the surface searching for you. Ecthelion realized his peculiar interest in you, so he at least told Kae that his human friend, Antony, has told him that you were alive and well. And that the human's healers said you declared that you floated too deep in the ocean and the waves took you away.

Only that.

And as much that was a relief to hear you didn't remember the evilness Eros committed, Kae was still disappointed that you wouldn't remember him, or Jaxi and Melin that were also very much curious about human's anatomy and helped to save your life.

He wanted to talk to you, to see how different you are, would it be shocking for you to see him? Would you run away seeing his different form? He was very pretty, and one of the most desired young merman between the merfolk, but their physiology are different for various reasons. Maybe you wouldn't think he is pretty, his monster form would push you away. Scare you.

               ...

Hunter lost his mind, inviting you to go surfing? Insane.

"You know I'm afraid of the sea,  Hunter!" You told him and your friend only shrugged.

"Y/N, i know but we can try. There won't be big tides today, and I'm an expert at it."

His sad voice made you feel bad, you loved him dearly but couldn't answer his romantic feelings. "Is just... we are not kids anymore and with our brother away and Hope getting you away for 'girls night i barely have time with you. And i don't want to be an asshole, i swear, but that accident that happened years ago was an accident. You were a kid and now you're all grown."

Yu chuckled and hit his shoulder slightly. "All of this only to convince me to go with you?"

He narrowed his eyes and gave you a shy smile. '"Only if you say it worked."

"It did. But! If the waves get too big or anything we will come back, alright? Don't try to prove a point."

"And which point would that be?" He seemed offended.

"That you know how to suffer."

"Right, I won't do anything stupid."

                       ...

Carrying Hope's board firmly you questioned if the straight material could hurt your palms. "Come on." Hope yelled cheering you up, she agreed with Hunter that it would be good for you to test the waters. Being afraid of it was a dangerous thing.

Hunter extended his hand while his other one was carrying the board under his arm. "Trust me?"

"Yeah, but please if I want to come back help me."

"Don't worry."

You held his hand and walked to the waters, Hope clapped her hands a couple of times yelling "you got it" to give you motivation.

It was a pretty day, the sun was out but it wasn't awfully warm Some seagulls flew through the skies and you admired the blue water touching your skin.

The water wasn't cold, and so far no big waves came and snatched your nor Hunter's life.

"Now in the way we tried back there." Hunter held the surfboard you were firmly grasping and helped you to jump on it. He did the same on his and held your hand looking at you with nothing but honesty.

You laid your chest on the board and moved your arms in the water to push you a bit far from the sand. Hunter was smiling, he adored the ocean and adored you so he was very happy.

A small wave came and you looked at him. "Hunt!"

He didn't tell you to go, he gave you a tiny nod and told you the two of you could swim around until you felt more relaxed.

After some minutes you tried to surf in a tide, it was small, amen for that, and Hunter seemed proud. He went to the bigger ones and even when he fell in the salty water he would emerge smiling and laughing.

Hope entered the water too and swam around, you never swam with your friends before.

Some minutes passed and you lost your fear from the ocean, the salty water, the rays of sun, Hunter's smile and Hope's laugh was a blessing and you wondered why you never gave Hunter a chance when he asked you to surf with him since you two were 12.

A medium-wave came in, and you told them you would try. Hunter has surfed and tides four times bigger so he was secure you wouldn't get hurt.

You moved your arms in the water to push you near the growing wave, you managed to feel it moving the surfboard, and you got on your feet and yelled in euphoria when your body kept firm above it. It was amazing, a sensation of pure joy.

The adrenaline, the beauty on it.

Hope and Hunter were cheering you up, and you smiled at then before noting a big movement near the tide, head got out of the ocean and the creature knocked your breath out of your lungs.

Was it... a mermaid? Well, better saying a merman?

"What?" You lost balance and fell into the water, the string holding the surfboard to your ankle made a pressuring pull and you whimpered at the pressure. You shut your eyes as the salty water burned your eyes but soon your foot was realized from the surfboard-pull.

You opened your eyes terrified that you lost the board because you were being dragged further in, but you saw something, someone. 

The strong features, the gills on his neck, the floating long hair... the tail. 

"Y/N!" Hope yelled. "Where are-", "Y/N!" Hunter yelled too.

He swam to you and leaned in, you got terrified, the water was burning your eyes, the lack of oxygen making you anxious and this creature was placing his hands on your cheeks. The cold hands made you stare at him but he only leaned in to kiss your forehead and then your nose. 

Hope's and Hunter's yells going deaf to your ears. You could only stare at the merman.

Before you could do anything else he smiled and touched your feet pushing you up to find oxygen.

You broke out of the surface and coughed as Hunter pulled your body to his chest. "Jesus Christ! You scared me." He said and kissed your forehead over and over making sure you were alive under his touch.

Hunter's kisses were gentle, urgent, and you enjoyed them, but it wasnt like the creature's touch. 

The monster's touch that could certainly snap your neck in a fraction of seconds, but the same touch that made your heart beat faster a moment prior.

And when he held your feet... you thought he would pull you in, to kill and eat you.

No.

He launched you up, assisting you, freeing you!

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have brought you." Hunter cried and you leaned in his touch, holding his neck and looking over his shoulder seeing familiar eyes gazing at you miles away in the water.

                       ...

Sitting in Hope's bed and having her blow-drying your hair, you told Hunter for the 45° time that you were okay and wasn't his fault. He gave you a cup of hot chocolate and checked your fingertips again searching for any hint of extremity cyanosis. He was terrified of losing you, shit, he even argued with Hope when he told her he wanted to help you to take a shower. And even if crushing on you, his intentions weren't sexual, he only wanted to be sure you were warmed up.

"It's okay, it was my fault. I thought I saw something. I got distracted."

Hope brushed your dry hair and you held Hunter's big sweater closer to your chest, he was taller than you so his clothes were the most comfortable. "Hope, i'm sorry for-"

"No no, it's okay. The thing was old anyway." She hugged you from behind and assured you it was okay the loss of her surfboard. "But i wonder how the safe-string got out of your ankle."

You remembered the pressure the string was making, remember the relief it was when it was snapped away from you... the merman did it.

"I don't know either." You lied and tried to get up, only to have them push you back in Hope's bed and ordering you to rest.

Hunter called your aunt to tell her it was all okay and that you would have a sleepover.

You fell asleep, dreaming of waves and gentle touches.

                         ...

Waking up you looked at the covers and searched for a clock to see how long you've slept. It was 2 AM and Hope was passed out, you gently got up from the bed and grasped a pair of Hope's boots.

You got off the stairs and unlocked the door discreetly before closing it behind you.

You walked to the docks and sat in your dining-spot. The vision of the water moving slowly under the stars always eased your thoughts. 

Yes, you consumed a bit of seawater but you didn't imagine what you saw. "Hey, uh, thank you for saving me." You spoke, feeling stupid and looking over your shoulders to be sure no one was near to listen to your nonsense.

"I... nearly drowned and if it wasn't you... I... Fuck!" You swore under your breath. The quietness of Walrey Coast at the dark night was comforting, silence was everything, it meant peace.

Holding your legs together and leaning your head on your knee, tears formed in your eyes. You missed Archie, you felt bad for making Hunter so worried, for destroying Hope's surfboard, the silence that engulfed you, and the thought of going crazy.

As tears drop reached the water, Kae got the courage to break out of the surface. He cursed himself so much earlier on, he should have reached you, if you haven't seen him you wouldn’t fall. So saving you was nothing less than his obligation. 

And touching you... well, that's another story. He couldn't help himself, you were so soft, so grown and stunning. Watching you from afar was something, but perceiving you centimeters away was enchanting.

With your eyes closed, you moaned a song that you loved, and even that the music spoke about heartbreak and a lost lover... it was beautiful.

Stopping to hum while you cleaned your nose, you opened your eyes startled when the song kept resounding,

Widening your eyes you looked at the water and placed your hands on your mouth to avoid a scream to leave your mouth.

There he was, the same thing that saved you.

"Hm, hi-hi!" You gagged.

Kae looked down at his torso, he hated how the human guy held you in his arms early on. His chest was free of hard skin, freed of scales, his skin color was near yours... it wasn't pale as his.

"Maybe you don't speak my language, I, uh actually I'm sort of believing i'm dreaming. My name is Y/N."

The smile on your features was all he could see, the previous shriek apparently wasn't from his ugly self. But surprise, or so he hoped.

"I know," His stark tone of voice made you gasp, he spoke! He could speak, and your language! "Hi, little human."

                       🧜🏻‍♂️

[spencersprentiss]

Where Is My Mind? (Unsub!Spencer x Fem!Reader)

Prologue / CHAPTER ONE / ch2

A/N: This is just chapter one, like I said before: I’m not really into the habit of writing at the moment. Please hold with me. I really hope it’s good, and if not than it gets better. Also, I picked the title based off of a song that was played in an episode. I will link part two after I post it! 

Warnings: Slight NSFW, hints of a panic attack. If you feel like there is anything else that needs to be added please let me know! 

Spencers’ hand held your waist tightly, your hands gripping the t-shirt hanging loosely on his chest. “Spence I’m freezing.” You whine against his chest. Your eyes wander up to his and he smiles down at you, a burst of warmth spreads through your chest. 

“Nuh-uh, don’t change the subject on me babydoll.” You roll your eyes and huff, burying your face from view again. “Come on baby, please. We’ve been dating for months and they really want to meet you.” His hand moves from your hip to your jaw, pulling you up to him. 

“When are they gonna fix the heating unit?” You whine, and he groans. He takes his hands away from you and starts to roll out of the bed. “Wait, no Spencer don’t leave I’m sorry!” You call out to him, pulling the blanket around your body. He turns and smiles at you. 

“Will you listen to me?” His eyebrows are raised and you smirk at his frustration. 

“Maybe…” You yelp as he jumps on you and starts to tickle your ribs. “No! Spencer no! No!” You squeal and he takes his face away from your neck and looks into your eyes. A serious look comes over his face as his hand starts to trail up your shirt. Your breath hitches as his thumb runs under the swell. “Spence… please?” He smirks. 

“Will you go to Rossis’ with me for dinner or not?” Your face falls. “Cause if not…” His hand starts to pull out of your shirt. 

“Yes, yes Reid I swear to god I’ll go and meet your friends Saturday night just please?” You panic and grab his wrist before he leaves completely. 

“Good.” He grins and places his hand under your rib. “But it’s too cold for that, so if you want then we need to head to your place.”

“Fine.” You groan and start to get ready. 

~

“What if they don’t like me?” You whimper against the window, watching the snow fall onto the DC streets. How much longer is this damn drive? 

“They’ll love you y/n, I promise.” His hand moves from the wheel to your hand, lacing your fingers. Your eyes move from the world outside the car to him. “Relax, there’s no reason to be tense around them, and especially not me.” He squeezes your hand as reassurance. 

“How far is this drive bubba?” You ask softly. By now you had made your way out of the city and were about 20 minutes into the woods. Looking into nearly pitch blackness, you hold Spencers’ hand a little tighter. Irrational fear of the dark in front of your boyfriend, probably won’t be the most embarrassing thing you do tonight. Thanks amygdala. 

“Not too much longer sweetheart, Rossis’ place isn’t too far out.” He leans forward and squints, looking for his turn in the dark. 

Fuck this place is huge, defiantly should have worn more than a sweater and some leggings. 

But when you look over at Spencer, he’s in his regular dress pants and sweater vest under a sports coat. 

“Reid’s here! Reid’s here! Reid’s here!” There’s shouting as soon as the door opens, causing you to shy back behind Spencers’ shoulder. 

“And his girlfriend!” Another male voice carries across the room. Your grip on Spencers’ hand becomes deathly as the voices approach. 

“Aw boy wonder, she’s so pretty!” The woman from before says again. 

“You know Penelope, I bet she speaks too.” Emily speaks. You had met her once, briefly after you and Spencer started dating. She came to drop off some papers to him while you had been at his apartment. 

“Thank you.” You manage to push out around your tightening throat. Penelope Garcia was the first thing Spencer had warned you about. 

“She’s loud, and very outgoing. And no matter what you do, do not answer any questions about our sex life. Trust me, she’ll ask. Maybe not the first night, but eventually.” 

After being introduced to everyone, you calmed down a little bit. You never left Spencers’ side unless you had to, and when you did, you stayed attached to Emily. That’s how you ended up in a circle with the girls on the floor. 

“Wait, so y/n. What do you do?” JJ asked, turning the subject away from Garcias’ dress, which was pale pink and covered in purple cartoon dogs. 

“I’m uh, I’m actually an assistant at a publishing company.” You nod, not wanting to get into that conversation too deeply. 

“That’s right! Spencer told me you went to school for writing.” JJ smiles and you nod awkwardly. “How’s that going?” she asks.

“Uh, well my boss is a dick. So not the best.” Please fucking end the conversation, Emily your drunk talk about something random and time consuming. 

“You should totally come work with us! I have been begging Hotch fo-” 

“No.” The deep voice sounds through the room, putting a stop to all the voices. “You know better Garcia.” Hotch states, his voice an unsettling shade of calm.

“But why couldn’t I?” You ask softly. Spencer puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, almost as if he’s warning you. 

“We’ll talk about it later babydoll.” He says quickly, trying to end the strange sense of silence. 

After about an hour, everyone gets ready to leave. You say your goodbyes and Spencer pulls you out the door before Penelope can pull you into a hug. 

“Are you mad at me?” Your voice is so low, you’re almost shocked he could hear it. The only words he had muttered since the incident were when he told you to get your coat. He stays quiet for a minute, and tears rim your eyes. 

“No baby, of course not.” He responds, monotone. Not Spencer. Fuck. 

“Spencer please, I love you and I’m sorry just please don’t be mad at me?” Tears run down your face and your voice cracks. You can feel your chest tightening, your breathing faltering. It feels like the cold of the unheated car is closing in on you, causing panic to set in. 

The car jerks quickly as he pulls to the side of the road. And suddenly he seems just as panicked as you are. He’s unbuckling, his hands are on you, and he’s pulling your face to look at him. 

“No doll please, please don’t cry. I’m not mad I promise.” You nod your head and grip his shirt, hiding in the crook of his neck. “Did you really mean that?” He muses, running his fingers in circles on your spine. 

“Hmn?” You hum, pulling away to look at him. 

“You said you love me.” He grins, “Do you?” You giggle and nod your head vigorously. 

“Yeah, yeah I do!” You laugh and tighten your grip on him. 

“I love you too babydoll.” 

~

“Reid?” 

“Rossi, it might be easier than I thought.” 

A/N: I don’t exactly have a tag list yet, but I would love to add people to it! So please let me know! But thank you @pumpkin-goob​ and @fish-on-trees​ for all of the support! It means so much! 

[passivenovember]

Tagged by: the lovely and talented @cherrydreamer​

Tell me which 5 TV shows make you feel better, then tag 10 other blogs.

Im dyslexic and I got the numbers mixed up so it’s 10 shows now whoops

(Through this I’ve realized how much I absolutely guzzle American content. I need recs from other countries so plz HIT A GIRL UP)! This is going to be long as fuck because I’m so passionate about storytelling. Hope you can find something comforting to watch <3

1. How I Met Your Mother: I love everything about this show. From the overarching plotline of “something better is always coming,” and “Nothing in life is legendary unless your friends are there to see it,” to the technical design (The mother is a Yellow Umbrella, Robin is the Blue French Horn) to the intricacy of how this story is told, How I Met Your Mother is integral to my happiness. So much so that whenever I have a panic attack my partner turns on HIMYM. I love it.

2. What We Do In The Shadows: This show is fucking hilarious. Just a bunch of pure of heart, dumb of ass bisexual vampires making a documentary about their lives. Nadja, my favorite character, is autistic and so is one of my best friends. To see her face light up at that kind of representation: unparalleled. There are only 20 episodes and I’ve seen each one four times. It’s hilarious. Colin Robinson the Energy Vampire is one of the most hilarious characters in television history.

3. King of the Hill: My uncle introduced me to a lot of the shows from the 90s that I love. He used to babysit me and show my inappropriate stuff and this was one that always stuck with me. While being genuinely funny I think it does a fantastic job of showing that conservatives can also be kind and understanding people. Hank Hill is one of the greatest cartoon dads; he loves his son, he loves his wife, and any time he is wrong he takes the criticism graciously. Fantastically funny. Also includes the late great Britani Murphy.

4. Daria: she’s one of the characters that I relate to the most. Misunderstood in her time, a fantastic portrayal of what it feels like to be the smart girl--the outsider. She eventually grows to understand that people care about her and what she has to say, that maybe her classmates and family members aren’t terrible. Incredible growth exhibited in someone so young. ALSO: the animation is so badass. Dry humor is the best humor.

5. Pen15: Shows us that we all were so awkward in our youth and that, in many ways, we never really left middle school. At its core it’s a story about friendship--how important it is not to take yourself so seriously. Has a staggering amount of heart, as well. Love.

6. Bobs Burgers: Loving the people around you BECAUSE of their eccentricities, not in spite of them. Loving fully and completely until it consumes you. Loving without fear. Fantastic, i’ve been watching since 2011 and I’m so proud of how far this show has come.

7. Sex and the City: First off, I’m a Miranda. While some of the concepts of this one are a little outdated, the heart of the show remains the same: friendship, good shoes, and good sex are the most important things in life. Carrie Bradshaw and her friends taught me that it’s okay to be unapologetically smart. And Sexy.  And sweet. That being a woman isn’t one-toned, it’s multivocal. That there’s not wrong way to be feminine. Love. Not to mention every person in America knew if they were a Carrie, Samantha, Charolette, or Miranda (let me know which one is you).

8. Grace and Frankie: You really don’t want to get me started with this one. Two women in their 70s must start fresh in life when their husbands leave them to marry each other. This show says so much about womanhood, how we are thrown away once we reach a certain age. It teaches us that it’s never too late to start over and live your best life. Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda? Powerhouses. Icons. Heroes to young women for decades. This show has so many fans of so many different ages and I could talk about this show for HOURS if you’d let me.

9. Gravity Falls: Spooky and funny and SO MUCH LORE! My gothy nerd heart sings every time I watch this. Such a beautiful message about growing up, too, which is one that always makes me cry. The buildup to the final moments of Weirdmegeddon 2 is incredible...I have a tattoo of Bill Cipher. And I’m a simp for outstanding animation. I could watch this show a trillion times and never grow tired of it.

10. The Proud Family: I’m black, so. And I was in elementary school around the time this originally aired so it taught me a lot of really important things about race and personality and sticking together as a family. Also: Beyonce and Solange did the theme song. What else could you ASK FOR!

Honorable mentions: Blackish, Moesha, Sister Sister, A Different World, 30 Rock, Arrested Development, and New Girl.

I nominate: Anyone who feels so inclined! (I also don’t have 10 mutuals that I interact with regularly oops)

[oftenderweapons]

Stress Reliever - Yoongi

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 3.7k words

Genre: fluff, smut, angst 

Rating: 18+

Yeah! It’s Yoongi time! 

What would he do to relieve some stress with you? Let go of his temper? I’ll cut this short and go straight to trigger warnings.

TRIGGER WARNING: unprotected sex within an established relationship (please y’all, I love you, be careful), mentions of quickie(s), grinding and making out, BDSM relationship, enough pent up pressure to power a small city, breaking of rules and disobedience, masturbation, sending nudes/sexy vocal texts/sexting, mild bondage, punishment, heavy marking (bites and hickeys), tits worship, choking kink, mild spit play, mentions of blindfolds and cocksleeve, mild degradation kink, outright hammering, yoongi feat. oral fixation except his mouth goes everywhere except near your pussy (it’s a punishment, bish, no way he’ll pleasure you with that technology of his). Mild angst because yeah, master’s not happy you went against the rules. 

Here is my masterlist! ENJOY!

--------------------------------

Yoongi wakes up heavily, trying to switch off the alarm not to disturb you. Today you could finally rest after your boss had called you in to work even during the weekend, due to the important partnership you had to plan and secure. Since your part of the work was now over, you had been given a couple days to rest before dedicating yourself entirely to the new collaboration. 

As you felt him move beside you, you latched onto him, your limbs clinging around him, lips searching for his neck. No way you could let go of his body heat. 

“Come on, baby, just one more day and then I have a free week.” September was almost over and his summer schedule left him some spare time before the group began planning their winter activities. 

You moaned, kissing his breastbone through his loose undershirt, his hand combing the hair on your nape, holding your head close as he tried to remove the leg you had thrown over his hips. He caressed the back of your thigh, his hand stretching over the soft of your glute. 

“Don’t go.” Your lips tried something more convincing, peppering small kisses over the pale skin of his neck and jaw.

He groaned loudly, his gravelly morning voice making your insides quiver. Smiling slightly as you saw him hesitate, you pressed your belly to his crotch, hoping that the warmth of your body and the comfort of the bed could convince him to stay long enough for a morning quickie, making him get ready in a rush and leave the house still slightly dazed with the orgasm -- or orgasms -- and the fretting.

“I love you.” He murmured, kissing your head and caressing your back, almost pushing back into you, both your hips and his slipping into the natural pace you had learnt a couple weeks after you had started dating. He made it feel too easy. 

“But I really have to go, kitten.” He groaned, using your small victory against you: you had loosened your grip on him, thinking you had won him over, but at your first distraction, he was already climbing out of bed, stumbling a little before entering the bathroom. 

Your loud whine echoed in the room, your legs now helplessly caught in the sheets. “Don’t tease, kitten.” He called from the bathroom. 

You let out a childish grumble, but then turned on the other side, as he exited the bathroom, selecting his outfit for the day and bending over the bed. 

“Are you upset, kitten?” He asked, caressing your hair. 

You just turned and closed your eyes. His mean snicker made you even more resentful. Heading for the kitchen, you heard him making some coffee, then proceeding to preparing breakfast. Not like you intended to get up. 

Twenty minutes later he entered your room again, leaning over you. “I left you some food in the kitchen. Coffee is ready and still warm.” He kissed your cheek, at which you grimaced almost imperceptibly. “Quit it, kitten. I’ll be back tonight. And from midnight on, I’m all yours for a week.”  

“I hate you.” You murmured, only half convinced. 

“We both know you don’t.” He kissed you again, and this time you held his hand. “Because I love you. And you love me too.” He caressed your face. “And I promise tonight I’m gonna spoil you, so be patient, yes kitten?” 

You opened your eyes, putting your best dollface on. 

“There she is.” He smiled big, the softest expression making your heart melt all over your chest. “Can you do that for me? Be patient for me?” He crooned.

You nodded.

“Good girl.” He freed his hand, smiling at you more softly. “Wish me good day.”

“Have a nice day.” You mumbled, trying to hide your pout. 

“You too, kitten.” And with that he left for the day. 

You turned around and fell asleep once more. Unfortunately, the oneiric version of you still remembered all the lost possibilities of earlier that morning and your imagination didn’t hold back at all. 

You woke up frustrated, needy and alone, your midday nap ruined. There was no use in trying to stay in bed, so you got up and hit the shower. Brushing off your sweat, you dedicated some time to self care, feeling like a queen by the time you were done, and while laying on the bed after your beauty routine, you noticed your reflection, your self esteem surging at your fresh looks. 

Would a selfie hurt? 

After pondering it a little, you grabbed your phone and took a few pictures, a mischievous intent awakening in your brain. You uncovered your chest slightly, Yoongi’s mark appearing on the soft curve of your breast. 

Licking your lips, with an innocent look in your eyes, you pressed the button and, happy with the black and white filter, you breathed out and hit send. 

“Do you think it’s fading?” You wrote this as a caption.

You casually scrolled through your social media, naked on the bed as you waited for his reply. 

You didn’t have to wait much. 

“For fuck’s sake. I can’t even come home for lunch, busy.” A few seconds later. “I’m touching it up tonight.”

Excitement filled your veins. “Please do.” You texted back. 

“You can count on it, baby.” He wasn’t the type to double text. Not twice in a row. So you were quite surprised when another bubble appeared. “Don't get started without me.”

A reminder and a warning. And, against your better judgement, your rebellious streak started tiptoeing around it, deciding that he was already turned on, so you might as well make him frustrated and turned on. 

One hand heading south, your grin devilish, you felt the wetness at the apex of your thighs, pooling there at the intended meaning of his texts. It didn’t take long for your mouth to open in a sigh, chest heaving at the pleasure you could conjure yourself alone. Your spare hand, once on your sensitive nipple, was now searching for your phone, lost somewhere in the sheets.

On the brink of your climax you pressed the button for the vocal text, hoping that the wet sound of your folds would somehow get caught in the recording. "I'm so sorry I couldn't wait, I've tried to be good, but I dreamt of you and you were so hot, Yoongi, and I kept thinking of your mouth on me, I'm so, so sorry, I swear I'll be the best girl tonight, please--" and with a final whimper you felt your body come apart, a desperate squeal surging from your lips. You rode out your high, hips bouncing on the mattress with the power of your thrusts. Once your breathing subsided, you stopped the recording and without thinking twice you let it send. 

You let the phone fall, laughing hysterically when you thought about what you've just done. No amount of behaving and grovelling could fix your most recent infraction and, interrupting your train of thought you headed for the bathroom, cleaning up before getting dressed and entering the kitchen to make yourself some lunch. 

In the process you ignored your phone, left in silent mode on the bed, missing a text from your Yoongi and a call. 

You were in for trouble. 

The afternoon was pretty uneventful, you finished a book that had been laying on your coffee table for a while, then you watched some episodes of a series you had forgotten you had started, and that's probably because it was so boring and filled with useless drama that you fell asleep on the couch. You woke up with the sound of the lock of the apartment, weak light coming in from the window. You had probably - unsurprisingly - slept till dinner. 

You heard Yoongi's voice calling your name from the entrance. "Come here."

You had seriously underestimated the trouble you were in. 

Mumbling from the couch, you sat up, feet heavy and brain still reconnecting to reality. 

He stood in the doorway to the sitting room, his face absolutely neutral. “Is that why you didn’t answer my calls? You were sleeping off your orgasm?” He licked his lips. “I had told you to wait.” His hands were propped on his hips while he stared down at you. 

“I tried to wait but I wanted you too much.” You said, voice tiny, knowing all too well that you had made a mistake. 

“Did you want me or did you want to cum?” He asked, his expression stern. 

“I was turned on because I had dreamt of you.” You admitted, hoping that being well-behaved could save you from the worst of his fury.

“And what did you dream?” He asked.

You looked him in the eye, “I dreamt of you licking me.”

“Was I only licking you? Where was I licking?” The intensity of his eyes burnt through you.

“You were sucking hickeys on me, using your hand between my legs, then fucking me with your mouth.” You described, cheeks blushing.

“That’s a lot more specific. And was I good in your dream?” He questioned. 

“You are always so good to me, Yoongi.” You batted your lashes at him, speaking with that soft voice he loves so much.

“So, did you cum in your dreams?”

You shook your head. “I woke up.”

He snickered. “Such a disgrace.” He brought his fingers to his belt, undoing it very slowly. “So much useless training.” He unlooped the accessory, folding it in two and stretching it between his hands. “Come here.”

You obeyed with a deeply apologetic expression on your face. 

“Kneel.” He ordered. 

Once more you carried out his command. 

“Your hands.” He said, and you offered them to him, slightly parted. With skilled fingers he placed his belt around your forearms, using it as some sort of leash around your wrists. 

“Good. Now you will walk to the bedroom on your knees, hands bound. You'd better keep the pace.” At that he took the first step, wide and slightly impatient. You soon realised it took three knee steps to make up for one of his full ones. You were actually fretting after him and by the time you reached the bedroom you were sweaty and short of breath. 

“Well, looks like your training is not lacking. Maybe it’s just your manners. Let me help you understand.” In the meantime he undid the belt, two deep dwells appearing on the skin it had encompassed, but nothing drastic, since he hadn’t pulled that bad. 

“You have sent me a picture of you, naked, reminding how much I always miss your soft breasts and how bad I need to mark you up. Then, after I explicitly told you not to, not only you touched yourself, but you also sent me a recording of how good you sound when you cum, of how wet your cunt gets when you think of me.”

You mewl as he takes off your shirt, you still kneeling on the floor. 

“And to top it all, you didn’t reply to my text or my calls, leaving me frustrated and so fucking horny all afternoon.” He commanded you up with a sign of his hand. Now a few inches taller than you, he looked you in your face. “And I had to listen to that through my earphones, during lunch with the boys. Do you know how embarrassing it was to get a hard on like a stupid teenager? And my friends were there, worried for me, asking what had happened.” He looked livid, tonguing his cheek and clenching his jaw. His voice was so low and husky you could cum of the sound of him alone.

He grabbed your face with his hand, squeezing your pout between your squished cheeks, the pose usually cute, but now absolutely indecent. “My sexy little girlfriend, that’s what happened. Making me frustrated and angry at lunch so I can come home all furious and fuck her till she begs.”

You nodded at that, your eyes imploring him. 

“I think Hobi even heard you. After all he was sitting so close to me.” He muttered. “Did you want him to hear? Want him to know how wet I make you, how needy you are for me? Did you want me to play it without my earphones so everyone could ear?”

You shook your head. “No, Yoongi.”

“That’s right. Because you’re mine and I’m the only one who can get you desperate like that.” He smiled at you, now with some fondness. 

“This will teach you to think twice before you hit send. Unless you’re comfortable with anyone possibly hearing and seeing you on my phone. And since no one should hear you and touch you and see you and taste you but me, let’s remind you who you belong to, uh?” He threw you over the bed. “Silly girls like you tend to forget their lessons.”

Half a minute later your hands were secured over your head with an old bandana of his, the bright red fabric contrasting with your skin. 

“First thing, we should touch up my mark, yes?” He waited for confirmation.

“Please Yoongi, show me I’m yours.” You cried out, your mouth trying to reach him. 

He mercifully bent down to your lips, only to bite the tip of your tongue before sucking on it a little. “You’re so hungry for me, it’s almost like you didn’t get yourself off.”

“It was a mistake. I don’t even know why I did that, it wasn’t you.” You begged.

“Well, big girls pay the consequences for their actions.” And with that he licked down your neck leaving a trail of saliva before his front teeth settled against your collarbone. 

“You dreamt of my mouth, yes?”

You nodded impatiently. 

“Than that’s what I’m gonna give you.” His hand connected with yours, still looking for that small sign of intimacy between the two of you, that secret language of yours made of intertwined fingers and nails scraping against palms. 

His mouth searched the soft flesh at the base of your throat and started sucking there, the skin bruising easily. Your legs crossed behind his back, pressing upwards to gain some friction.

“Do you want my cock?” He teased, licking up the mark he’d just imprinted on you.

“Please, Yoongi.” You mumbled, grinding into his lap. 

“So ready.” He sucked another mark into you. “But you’ll have to wait.” He kissed between your collarbones, slowly descending towards your breastbone. “Let’s get rid of this bra first.”

His hand reached behind your back, unclasping the black cotton bra, grinning devilishly as your breasts slipped out and your nipples perked up. Noticing your tied wrists he mulled over what to do, settling for pushing the garment all the way up along your arms, leaving it tangled in the bandana. 

“Keep your hands still, baby, I’m gonna feast on you.” At that, he pushed your breasts together, licking the crevasse there, finding his favourite spot. His body was kneeling between your parted legs while his strong hands began kneading your flesh aggressively. Mesmerized by the softness of your skin, he started nibbling on it, breaking the blood vessels blooming there, suckling while looking at your blissful expression, your eyes just barely open to enjoy the way his lovely, perfect lips parted and made love to the luscious swell of your bosom.

His mouth moved to the side, capturing a nipple and tonguing it artfully, his teeth trapping it while his tongue dragged it up and down. When he combined it with the bobbing of his head, your moans became high pitched squeals, the pleasure so intense you could come apart from it alone. 

“You liking it?” He provoked you, his arrogant demeanour matching his cocky smirk, his breath fanning over your wet nipple. 

“I like it so much, Yoongi, please let my hands go.” You were literally praying him, your lower lip shaking with exasperation.

“Oh no, ____. You’ll keep your hands put, so you’ll learn that if I tell you not to touch yourself, you don’t put a fucking finger on this pussy.” He sat up straight, his hands dragging both your sweats and panties off. Your scent hit him immediately, his body so accustomed to your every small tell. With your body now finally naked and at his mercy, he let his eyes roam freely as you pushed your breasts up, back arching, legs clenching for the tiniest sense of relief. 

“That’s my kitten. You look like sin.” Standing at the side of the bed, he dragged the tip of his middle finger deliriously slowly from your toe to your neck, his fingers pressing at the thick veins at the base. After a couple seconds you were already dizzy, your brain too fuzzy to notice him sitting beside you on the bed, his spare hand fooling around your hip-bone, raising goosebumps on its wake. His naughty hand reached your navel. 

“Are you ready, sweet thing?” he licked once more at your breast, the hand at your neck losing some pressure. He knew all too well when it got too much. He kissed your shoulder, devotedly. “Are you ready, ____?”

You nodded, wailing in desire.

“That’s it.” His finger reached your clit without hesitation, your eyes opening wide, searching for his. He didn’t disappoint, meeting your stare from below you, still latched onto your breast, the one he hadn’t had the chance of fondling earlier. 

After a couple strokes, marvelling at your wetness he added another finger, slipping them inside you. “Were your fingers this good?” He asked, encompassing your areola in a bite.

Again, you whined in surprise, shaking your head. The gesture reminded you of the grip on your neck, causing his fingers to tighten there. “No, Yoongi. I’m sorry. You know it.”

“I know it. I do.” His pattern changed, now fingering you in a come hither motion. 

“But since you’ve already had your hand on you today, and you had my mouth in your dreams, I might as well get my own fun.”

“Yoongi please, I’ll do anything you want, please, my hands…” He laughed sadistically, then he undid his button and fly. He found it hot, having you naked, at his mercy right before him, while he was fully dressed, nothing but the necessary parts uncovered. 

Some part of him wanted the nearness, the fond sensuality of skin against skin, but remembering the burn of embarrassment at lunch made his fingers quicken and his temper flare. 

“If you touch me, just once, I’ll twist you around, tie you up, and blindfold you. And then I’ll use that nasty toy you hate so much to make myself cum all over you. Understood.”

“Yes, Yoongi.” You replied, almost too fucked out to give him coherent words.

“Good.” The delicate knot came undone in seconds, his face resting temptingly close to yours. “You sure you don’t wanna grab my face, kitten?”

A fucking demon. As you shook your head no, he grinned darkly and slid in, bottoming out in one brutal motion.

Your hands gripped the pillowcase so hard that the joints of your fingers popped. You knew how easy it would be for you to reach for him, probably it would have been better if your hands had stayed tied, but you hoped he would reward you for your hard work and willingly increased effort. 

“You all right, kitten?” He asked, breath laboured. 

“I just need you to move, Yoongi, please.” You circled your hips, his groan ricocheting from his chest. 

“Imma latch on your pretty neck, baby. You’ll still have a collar by the time I send you back to work.” He briefly kissed your mouth. “You good with that, baby?”

“Yoongs, anything please.”

One more laugh and his mouth peppered butterfly kisses along the column of your throat, his mouth at your ear. “Enjoy, ‘cause it’s gonna be one hell of a ride.”

At that he started hammering into you, his hands propping himself up, shifting to his elbows quickly as he willingly searched for your wrists.

“I wanna hear you mewl, kitten.” He encouraged you, shortly before settling his teeth at the base of your throat.

“Yoongi, yes.” He started sucking, unbothered, his hips shifting to let his pubic bone drag against your clit. 

“Wanna wrap my legs around you.” You murmured. 

He let go of one of your hands, placing his palm on your knee and picking it up, encouraging you to hold him like that. 

The change in angle made him growl in relief, his hips even faster. “Imma take it home, yeah?”

He was going so hard you felt tipsy, so when he rose, his back arched, one hand balancing him up, the other coiling around your neck once more, you felt ready to leave your body. 

“Show me how you came this morning, kitten, show me what I missed.” He slowed down his thrusts, waiting for you to comply. 

You lowered your arm slowly, fingers aching to caress his balls, but dutifully landing on your clit, your lips parting in a loud cry. 

“Yes, kitten. Give me your other hand.” You were mildly suspicious and the hand at your throat was making you wonder whether you were imagining things. He snickered, grunting in effort, “want to suck on those dirty fingers. Give me your free hand, love.”

Fingers dripping in his spit, latched on his lower teeth, trapped between his lips, you felt his hips snap, the devastating mix of sensations triggering your orgasm, eyes rolling back and vision going blank, not even bothering to make a sound. 

His mouth opened in a silent cry, hips losing their pattern, his weight now propped on his elbow, hand free to grip your hair while his fingerstips slid up and down gently against your throat. When the frenzy dissipated, his high subsiding, he collapsed on you, thoroughly exhausted. Your heaving chest pillowed his head, his breathing making your new marks sizzle with the sudden fresh air. With the little energy left, he removed the hand still protecting your overly sensitive clit, brushing it against the place where your bodies joined, making sure it caught both your tastes before bringing it to his mouth, licking at it in some absolutely classy, although obscene, way. 

“So good, kitten.” He praised. “Give me ten minutes. I was so hard on you, I need to make up for it. We got a full week but I need to make sweet love to you tonight, princess.” 

Forget dinner, you’ll be the only meal he needs to eat tonight.

[asianhappinesss]

Jiu Liu Overlord (2020)

Summary

The story takes place at the end of the Tang Dynasty. Li Jing Liu is a business tycoon, while Long Ao Yi is the leader of the Longzhu Sect. When a mysterious burglary shakes the city, the city's two overlords are pitted against each other. On the one side, there is mob boss Long Ao Yi (Bai Lu). She represents the Lower Jiuliu, the lower class consisting of entertainers, seamstresses, candy sellers, matchmakers, thieves, burglars, and prostitutes. On the other side, there is silk tycoon Li Qingliu (Lai Yi), the calculating leader of the Upper Jiuliu and the social elites. The two must push aside their prejudices as they go from fighting for the city to working with each other. From the alleys of Chengdu to foreign locales to the royal court of the Tang Dynasty, the two fight with each other and then together in both jianghu and the business world.

Review

This review may contain spoilers

Is It Really That Bad?

After watching all the 36 episodes, I can understand why Overlord has its fair share of negative reviews. I think it starts off well with a refreshing storyline but the screenwriters failed to carry that through to the end. So, from Episode 21 onwards, the plot moves back to the usual palace power plays and jealous third parties. Whether that could retain your interest would really depend on your appetite for evil schemes of palace officials, concubines, and love rivals. Plot Lost Its Shine (Spoilers Alert!) Personally, the second half of the drama is a letdown as it reverts back to being the usual fare. There is some surprise in the unmasking of the real mastermind behind all the bad deeds but apart from that, there is nothing inspiring in the later plot. Certain things are also not properly explained such as Qing Liu’s dizzy spells with the opposite sex and Ao Yi’s father’s death. I think the revelation that Qing Liu is a prince is where the whole plot starts to lose its shine. The drama starts off with him being a merchant and to suddenly transform him into a prince just leads viewers down a predictable path of palace politics. Furthermore, with only half of the story left to be told, the palace power plays doesn’t have a strong plot development to give it more depth. Hence, viewers are given a superficial tale of the royal court affairs compared to dramas with a focus on palace intrigues. The ending itself is acceptable but it doesn’t leave me with a truly satisfying feeling either. The way the bad guy is defeated feels like an anti-climax. The time jump towards the very end just seems like a lazy way to finish up the drama. It feels forced as they wrap things up for the required happy ending. Well, the good thing is, at least, there is no ambiguity whatsoever unlike the ending in Dance Of The Phoenix and Love Of Thousand Years. Slow Burn Romance Overlord is not a romance-heavy drama which means it could be really boring for those who want more skinship and romantic moments. By the time they are sure of their feelings for each other and express them, they already have to separate due to unforeseen circumstances. Well, the love is there and the viewers know it. But the couple also tends to bicker especially in the initial stages of the relationship. It takes a while for them to acknowledge their feelings for each other which is very different from dramas like General’s Lady whereby the love is recognized early. I guess whether you would enjoy Qing Liu and Ao Yi’s love story would depend on your liking for slow burn type of romance with under the surface feelings. So, if you expect a more expressive male lead and an intense romance, Overlord is not the right drama to watch. Can’t Feel The Chemistry To be honest, I can’t feel the lover’s vibe between the two leads. Perhaps I’m spoilt after watching Bai Lu with Leo Luo in Love Is Sweet whereby their chemistry is off-the-charts. It is not that Bai Lu’s and Leon Lai’s acting is bad in Overlord as they do fit their roles well enough. Bai Lu gives Ao Yi a thuggish look with the right amount of swag as a gang leader. Leon Lai’s portrayal of Qing Liu is also right on the dot for me as a reserved and stoic man. I think where the 2 leads fail in the romance department is that their chemistry remains stuck in the bickering stage and they couldn’t raise the bar as their relationship progresses. It has nothing to do with the lack of smooches although some viewers might think more skinship will give off better chemistry between the leads. It is not necessarily so as Allen Ren and Seven Tan pulled it off very well in Under The Power which is a 55-episode drama with hardly any kisses. In Overlord, something is just missing in the couple that I can’t feel the sizzles. In fact, some viewers think Alen Fang should have been the male lead instead. But Alen Fang has such a warm and pretty boy look that makes him more suited to rom-coms like the role he played in The Love By Hypnotic. It will indeed be interesting to see how he will stack up if he is told to portray a cold and

emotionless Qing Liu. My Verdict – Is It Really That Bad? Well, Overlord is not really unwatchable despite the weaknesses that I have highlighted above. Perhaps 36 episodes is too short for a historical drama that wants to feature a slow burn romance, palace politics, and investigations all rolled into one. The result is a drama that couldn’t make me feel totally invested in the story. But the positive side to it is it doesn’t get dragged out and that should please viewers who prefer a shorter drama. There are no complicated subplots here. While the royal court facet doesn’t have a strong story development, it should delight those who hate long drawn out evil schemes that tend to exist in palace dramas. Watchable But Forgettable Furthermore, the cast did a good job in portraying their roles. At the very least, you don’t have to cringe at their acting. Although I feel that the chemistry between the leads is lacking as a romantic couple, the upside is Overlord is not meant to be a heavy romance drama just like The Blooms At Ruyi Pavilion. In other words, a sizzling chemistry would be a bonus but the lack of it would not really take away much from the story that also focuses on the investigation and corruption aspects. This is very different from a modern rom-com like Perfect And Casual whereby the chemistry is what drives the drama. For this Jiu Liu Overlord review, I wouldn’t say it is unwatchable but neither would you miss much if you skip it. If you are a diehard Bai Lu or Leon Lai fan, then go ahead and watch it. Their acting shouldn’t disappoint you. Also watch it if you like a gutsy and unconventional female character and an uncomplicated plot. Other than that, it is a forgettable drama that wouldn’t linger on your mind once you are done.

[burnedbyshoto]

Show Me How You Like It

Kinktober Day 12 ~ kink: pegging

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, smut

word count: 3,850

a/n: this is for @lady-bakuhoe .... oh god, i did so much research for this because ive never tried pegging, but idk....might need to convince someone oneday. also, new season?????? im literally shaking because the first episode was so pure,,,,,but this season,,,,,ohmy

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Do you want to try it?”

Being married was something you thought of as unimaginable. Marriage and you didn’t ever seem to go hand in hand. Not that you didn’t want to get married at some point in your life. You never expected anyone to want you for the rest of your life.

You met Kirishima Eijirou in middle school. As you were best friends with Ashido Mina. You often noticed the shy dark-haired boy always watching on your friend group. You remember going to the U.A. entrance exam and sitting between Mina and Kirishima. The written exam you listened to Mina curse under her breath, and Kirishima shakes as he filled out his sheet.

You remember looking at the field he was then placed in for the practical exam. Sighing when you saw the three of you were then scattered everywhere. You had wished him luck! His cheeks turning pink as he stammered back good luck as you and Mina took off to get dressed. You didn’t know much about him besides that he was shy and very sweet, but you hoped he did well! The next month, the three of you called to the principal's office. You were absolutely astonished to see that Kirishima had gotten in as well! The three of you would be going on to U.A. together!

After ending middle school, you didn’t see him again until orientation. Except, he was different. A good different. His hair stylized, large spikes, and bright red. It was attention-grabbing, demanding even, but his face was still as sweet as ever. Kind and loving.

The first year flew by. Near-death experiences with him formed a bond with him that you never knew would manifest. The three of you--Mina, Kirishima, and you--were close. Buddies, but sometimes, if you were being honest, your eyes would stay on him for a bit too long.

Your heart hammered when he went out for his internship, scared he’d come back scared. Your eyes locking on his flexing muscles, and Mina’s sharp laughter pulling you back to reality. The way he was reckless and shield the class from attacks. Because he was a shield, and he could take it. The way he would catch you in his arms. Those black sleeves were so soft, making you squeak as you were now distracted from your own battle. His toothy grin sucking you in as he made a cute comment about getting there on time. His warm large hands on your body as he placed you down, encouraging you to finish the villain.

There was the night you found yourself knocking on his door. Tears brimming your eyes because you needed to be in someone's arms and Mina was asleep. He took you in without you even asking. Taking you to his bed as he wrapped you in his blanket. His voice apologizing about the state of his room. Apologizing because his blanket wasn’t that soft, and you deserved a softer one. He seemed to panic around his room, setting up a kettle for tea, all while you stared at his blushing face. His cheeks bright enough to match his hair as you stood up from the bed and wrap your arms around him. Your words are weak as you ask him to hold you because that was all you needed. You fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest as he smiled at you. Lips pressing to your forehead.

It wasn’t until your second year did you do something about your feelings. Your eyes on Kirishima as he was joking around with Kaminari over Bakugou’s fuming head. You felt yourself walking over, no plan in mind. The girls staring at you as you went, muffled screams because they could tell what was coming.

You didn’t ask, only grabbing Kirishima’s wrist and pulling him so that he could look at you. His face went from grinning, to shock, to a blush erupting to cover his entire face as he realized it was you. His hand slamming against the back of his neck as he apologized for something. Not that it was actually needed. His lips were so pretty, and you were sick of him not being yours. Your hands fisted into the shirt of his collar and brought his lips to yours. Your first kiss with Kirishima a slamming force. You clenched your eyes as your lips pressed against his, and you felt him stiffen against you.

His quirk going off and you pull away, lips stinging because of his mishap.

The screams of the girls were loud, Kaminari’s seemed louder, and Bakugou was laughing loudly. Kirishima returns to normal his face turning redder than his hair as he apologizes. Kirishima admits he likes you so much, and you caught him completely off guard.

So with a breathy laugh, you pull him in close once again and seal your lips over his.

The kiss makes you dizzy as he holds you tightly. His finger gripping your waist as if you would crumble between his fingers.

So the two of you began dating. Four years of a very serious and committed relationship had your heart soaring. The two of you were each other first’s for many things. There was never heartbreak between the two of you. Fights were always avoided, the two of you always talking before things escalated. So it was no surprise on the night before your fifth anniversary, the two of you home in your sweats, did he propose.

You cried, screaming at him for proposing when you looked like this. Kirishima cried as he stayed on his knee, a sparkling ring in his fingers.

“That’s not an answer,” Kirishima says, as you cover your face. Sobs refusing to stop as you shake your head overwhelmed. “A-Are you not ready?”

“EI!” You bawl as you stumble to your feet, and throw yourself into his strong arms. “YOU’RE SO DUMB! Yes, I’ll marry you! Every day for the rest of my life if I could!”

The two of you spent the rest of that night in each other's arms. Tears intermingling on your cheeks as you expressed your love for one another.

Your wedding was unimaginable, intimate, and wondrous.

So here the two of you were. Six months into marriage on your day off he asked to try something new. Your guy’s sex life definitely was not vanilla. Both of you sported your favorite kinks and positions, and you incorporated them into bed. Today he asked something that you never thought you’d hear. So without judging you uttered those words.

“I’d like to try pegging, one day. I just--I don’t know--I feel like I need to try it out!” Kirishima says, scratching his cheek as you laugh.

“Well, I think we should definitely try it out! I hear it’ll be super enjoyable for you.” You agree as you stand up. “Do you want to order it online or go to a sex shop?”

Kirishima sighs as you take a seat on his lap, and his hands rest on your hips. It’s muscle memory at this point as you kiss his cheek. “If the store is open, let’s go?”

“It’s only three in the afternoon, Ei. It’s open.” You laugh as you kiss his flaming cheeks. Kirishima sighs as he stands up from the chair, his arms wrapping around your legs as he carries you.

“No need to be mean!” He pouts, and you laugh as you pepper kisses against his lips as he walks towards your home’s entrance. “I just hope we don’t run into fans again…”

“Hey!” You laugh as he slips on your shoes all while holding you still. “It’s their damn fault for thinking we don’t have kinky sex… or sex at all.”

“You didn’t let me smash for a whole year.” Kirishima laughs as he shifts you in his arms so that he’s holding you piggyback style. You laugh as he puts on his own shoes. Your limbs tightening around his body for support as he’s leaning down.

“It’s because you kept telling me to smash, and the first time it happened you pulled out Super Smash Bros.”

“You’re telling me you denied me for a whole year because of that?!”

“EIJIROU, YOU LITERALLY MADE ME PANIC SO HARD! The girls and I went out to buy me lingerie and everything!!”

“You’re telling me this now? Sorry, y/n, sounds fake.” Kirishima laughs as he stands up, and begins your journey out.

Eventually, you slide off his back, and he takes your hand into his own. The two of you talking as you walk down the streets of your city as you enter the sex shop. You went were you remembered where the strap on dildos and harnesses were. Kirishima, however, seems frozen as you pick out a sturdy harness. It was black and rather daunting as you handed it to Kirishima.

“You get to pick the dildo.” You say, looking at the collection they had.

“T...This is a lot more than what I was expecting.” Kirishima gulps as his hands rake through his flat hair. “Is there a one size fits all?”

You snort at you shake your head, “No, baby. Just like there are no two dicks alike, you have to choose. We can always start with the thinnest one?”

“Yeah. That sounds right.”

You grab a thinner dildo and choose the bright red one. “For my Red Daddy Riot?” You ask, a burst of bubbling laughter in your throat as Kirishima tosses his head back.

“That was one time!”

“It still happened, and you liked it!”

The two of you laughed together as you bought the two things. Even taking pictures with the person at the register because he was in love with you two. Besides that, the two of you left back home.

Steps quick to try it out. Breathing picking up as you reached the house.

Kirishima’s lips were over yours as soon as the front door closed behind him. His strong arm keeping you on his hips as his other one held the black bag.

“Wow, you’re impatient.” You moan against his lips, as you kick your shoes off.

“It’s the nerves.” Kirishima sighs as he walks towards the bedroom, your lips gliding against his.

Your fingers tug at his hair without care, his heavy pants making you grin. You knew his body as well as you knew his own, and hair-pulling always lit a fire under him. Your back pressed into the mattress, and your breathing increases as he shifts. His shirt pulling off his head. You pull away and watch as his scarred chest heaves.

You sit up, your lips pressing light kisses against every scar. Every bruise. Every impurity. Your lips were hot against his skin, and Kirishima’s wordless praises stirred you on. Your hands grabbed his shorts. Without him even realizing it, you’ve removed his shorts, and have him on the bed in two-fluid movements.

“Is the lube, fuck, is the lube in the box?” Kirishima asks as your lips suck the crook of his neck.

You nod your head as you remove your own shirt, and his hands squeeze your breasts. You hiss at the sensation, your hips involuntarily moving as well. Kirishima’s gasping breathes stir you on as you feel his arousal pressing into your ass. “Are you ready?” You ask, your nails running up and down his abs. You know he likes the teasing of the sensation, and he nods his head as you pull away.

Kirishima watches you from the bed as you strip off your shorts. You’re wearing a nice set already, a deep maroon bra and matching thong piece. It wasn’t lingerie. But the color of red against your skin made Kirishima moan as you pull out the lube from your box of other goods. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his throat as you open the harness.

Your eyes locked on his own, a smile on your face as you slip your legs through the ties. Fastening them all tight around your thighs as you spin around for Kirishima when it’s done. It’s tight enough that you feel comfortable, but not loose enough for it to fall off ever. Kirishima groans, his body falling onto the bed as you place the dildo into the harness. Why did you look ravishing like that?

Kirishima feels you climbing onto the bed, your hair tickling his cheeks as you lean down. “On your knees, Red Daddy Riot.” You whisper into his ear, your teeth nibbling his earlobe.

“You’re the worst.” Kirishima groans as he does as commanded, slipping his underwear off. Your teeth bite your lower lip as you stare at his ass. This was a new angle, and it was one you very much enjoyed. Hell, if you looked this hot, it was no wonder why Kirishima loved doggy style. You could see the sharp lines of his body, the muscles rippling in his nervousness. His ass looking firm and delicious as you shuffle closer. A sigh leaving your lips as you rejoice in him being the perfect height for you to peg him.

“I’m going to start with my fingers first.” You inform Kirishima who nods his head.

“Be gentle at first?”

“Like a flower.” You promise as you grab the lube, rubbing a very healthy amount on your index finger and middle finger. “Ready?”

His nod is weak but sure of his request.

So with as much precaution as you can, your index finger slides past his tight hole. You ease it in as Kirishima lets out a string of curses, his body trembling as he almost falls onto his forearms. Your tongue pokes out, unsure if it was okay to savor the way he was feeling or to be actually concerned.

“Does this feel good, baby?” You ask as your finger curls.

“Y-Yes, oh my god, princess…” Kirishima pants as he thrusts his hips out towards you.

Your finger makes it all the way in, and Kirishima cries out your name as you begin to move it back out. Your finger now slowly beginning to thrust into him. Your hips shifting in the excitement in the way he shakes. His chest falling to the mattress as you continue thrusting into him. Kirishima’s moans stirring you on as you add another finger.

H makes audible gawking noise. You chuckle as your free hands trail up and down his muscular thigh. Your hand moves up his inner thigh and then grasps his hard cock. Kirishima’s pleasure and pained moans filling the room as you stroke his length. “You’re taking my fingers so good, baby.” You groan against his rippling back muscles. “I hope this feels as good as you look.”

Kirishima spasms as your nails gently tease the walls of his hole. His nearly shrieking gasps turn you on further. Your hand that is moving down his length his fisting him as you go. A sadistic smile on your face as his cries continue. His body trembling. Your fingers moving in a wave-like function as he gasps prettily.

Your cunt is now throbbing at the sight of your husband like this. The dom in you bleeding out as you remove your fingers from his hole. Your other hand releases his twitching cock as you pull back. Kirishima’s pleading gasps making you laugh as you slap his ass.

“Don’t worry,” You say grabbing the lube and placing a large amount onto the dildo. “I’m not done with you quite yet.”

Kirishima whimpers softly, the noise music to your ears as your lips press against his ass.

“You’re doing so well.” You whisper as you press the head of the red dildo onto his hole, not yet inserting it. Your grin widening as Kirishima rocks his hips, wanting you to thrust in already. “I’m going to put it in now, and I don’t want to hear a single moan, groan, cry, or word.” You warn.

Kirishima’s husky voice lets out a whine, and you shiver at the feeling as you move your hips forward. The head of the dildo sinking into his awaiting hole.

“You didn’t make a sound, I’m impressed. Are you okay, my love?” One of your hands moving up to rub soothing circles on his back as you pressed deeper inside him. Kirishima replied with a weak head nod. Rutting his hips back into you as you entered completely inside him. You wait a moment as his heavy pants let you know he’s still adjusting. Your thighs twitch with your anticipation, and you want nothing more than to thrust into him. The pool of heat within you intensifies as Kirishima drops to his chest.

“I-I’m ready.” He asserts, and you smirk, your hand coming down heavily onto his ass.

“Are you ready to feel how good I am with my cock?” You tease, and Kirishima laughs, his head nodding.

“Show me how you like it.” Kirishima staggers as your hips roll into his ass.

A shriek of pleasure leaves his lips as you begin pushing your hips against his ass. Your pace a lot faster than it probably should have been. You began to buck your hips against him, admiring in the way Kirishima moans loudly. His hips moving to meet yours. You grinned as you landed another hard smack on his ass, expecting a raw noise in response. Your face lits up when your husband sinfully moans at the action, his jaw-dropping as he pants. Your fingers continue running across his soft skin as you watched it redden under your touch. Your handprint was evident in its shape.

“Please, baby, more!” Kirishima gasps as you shift your hips slightly. His back arching as he clutches the fabric between his fingers. You laugh, your head leaning to press a kiss against his spine.

“Kami, you look so damn pretty when you’re crying for me.” You moan, uncaring about your sloppy thrusts for the moment. The way Kirishima is so responsive to your actions is stirring you on. You’re positive that you’ll be coming as soon as he touches you later. You grip his hips, angling your body so that you’re thrusting into him at a better angle. Trying to desperately find that angle that will make his eyes roll to the back of his head. To find the angle that will make him scream and drool. The loud and raw ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips, lets you know you found his prostate. You continue in at that angle, the same power and depth as the rawness of his voice send chills down your spine.

Your body feels like it’s on fire as you feel so much power. Your husband’s continuous whimpering stirring you on. Your right-hand leaves his waist, moving to grasp his still rock hard cock in your grasp. “Oh, poor baby,” You coo. “Does your cock need to come?” You pant, the action of your thrusting hips making you sweat.

“Yes, fuck, baby yes!” Kirishima shouts, his face burying into the mattress as you massage his length up and down. Your hips are relentless against his ass as you continue fucking him. Your laughs nearly inaudible at the sight of him still fucking himself against you.

“What if I don’t want you to come yet.” You pout, your fingers leaving his length, your hips stilling.

“Please let me come, baby, please!” Kirishima pants his hips unapologetic as he continues pushing against the strap-on. You giggle, taking his cock back in your hand. Your arousal slicking against your thighs as you continue.

You’re intent on getting him to come within seconds, and it shows. Your hips are thrusting harder and faster than you’ve gone yet. Your hand fisting along his length, his leaking precum covering your hand. Kirishima’s spluttering shouts fueling your inner lust. His body convulses under your manipulation.

Sinfully loud mewls and moans leave his lips, and you feel his cock spasm. Your hips finding it difficult to go as fast as you had been going as his hole tightens around the dildo.

“Y/N, FUCK!”

Your hand covered instantly in his hot sticky seed. Your lips in a wide grin as your hand continues stroking his length. His fluids continuing to come out in his heavy load. Your thrusting stops, and with a sigh, you pull away. Falling down on your ass as Kirishima collapses. His eyes locked on you as you lick his come off your hands.

“You’re super hot like that.” You inform Kirishima as you shift towards his heaving body to press a kiss to his lips. “I didn’t think you would be so into it.”

You slide off the bed, taking off the harness and letting it fall to the ground as you groan. You remove your panties and show Kirishima just how fucking wet they were. “Just in case you weren’t sure how turned on I was.”

You take off your bra as you crawl back onto the bed, Kirishima turning onto his back as you straddle his torso.

“You still need to come, huh?” Kirishima states. A low hiss escaping his mouth at feeling your throbbing wet cunt against his hips.

“Yeah, I do.” You sigh your fingers teasing your breasts as your husband leans up. His lips pressing against the underside of your breasts. Your head drops back as you feel content. “Are you gonna help me out, or am I going to be forced to fuck you by myself?”

You shriek as you’re on your back, looking up at Kirishima who is trailing his heavy and hot hands down your figure. You moan at the feeling of his teeth biting against your neck. His sharp teeth sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll know how I felt that entire time,” Kirishima promises, his finger entering your aching core.

“Give it to me, Red Daddy Riot.”

“...I’ll leave.”

“No! You know that I’m only tea--OHMYGOD!”

Kirishima has his once again hard cock slamming into your throbbing pussy. His voice snarling at the sensation as his hands bring your legs over his shoulders. “Now shut up, and let daddy show you how to fuck properly.”

You can’t even tease him as he begins jackhammering into you. Your head slamming into the mattress as a shriek rips through your throat.