#the pacing is superb

[clara-licht]

We finally got to see Mueller!

Ngl he's cuter than I expected lol

I kinda don't like how the manhwa didn't mention that he's actually 30 years old tho 🙃 now Cale is like a grown up bullying a child 🙃

At least Cale looked mighty fine in this chapter 😏

Oh! AND HAPPY 1OO CHAPTER EVERYONE!

Serious note now!

Aside from that my one and only complaint still remain strong: THE PACING.

GODDDD THE PACING IS SO BAD 😭 AN ENTIRE CHAPTER AND WHAT DO WE GET???

Cale: imma go get Mueller and the treasure!

Cale: *finds Mueller and the treasure*

ngl I'm super frustrated rn 🥲 I get that there are still a lot of background details that need to be explained through bubble speech, which takes a lot of space in the chapter, seeing as we're still in the early arcs...... but isn't it getting a bit ridiculous? can't they explain them in the background of the scene while something else is happening? we're already 100 chapters in, and it's only chapter 74 in the novel.....

[minijenn]

Watched the first three episodes of the Avatar live action remake

It's.... interesting

[nazuna-tunnel-vision]

tbh what kind of sucks about the villainness/noble girl reincarnation genre scene now is that the stories all just kind of blend together. there's really nothing that sets most stories apart from each other, apart from the designs. (which. to be fair are very often absolutely fantastic)

i keep thinking that surely the authors went, "man the stories i'm reading right now are missing something... i'll write the story myself." but i can't figure out what those "something"s are. it might just be bc they've got horrible pacing. like, in some cases i can tell that they're going... somewhere... but i'll hit chapter 25 and it's still super vague. it's just a slice of life and the conflict in the hook never gets addressed ever again. i don't have faith that the plot will get any clearer by chapter 100. and i'm not sticking around no matter how good the art is.

[tiredwoodnymph]

need to do an in depth analysis of this episode

[ajdrawshq]

rh has VERY good walking on tile/hard floor sound effects n every time i come across those areas i keep making Stocke run around just to hear the tap tap tap tap

[kkrazy256]

hello, just finished reading the Kakashi Restuden novel, nobody talk to me for the next week I need to //process//

[cheriladycl01]

Feel the Heat - Grid x F Driver! Reader

Plot: All the moments that Y/N has just absolutely lost her shit.

Warnings: Lots of swearing, mentions of sexism (undertones) which I do not condone at all, its just for the plot and what i see some celebrities are burdened with in the limelight.

Credit to martha-dobie for the GIF

Moment 1:

"So Y/N how do you feel about the 10 second time penalty?" Martin asks you in the post race interview. You were now starting P20 in the race tomorrow and it wasn't even your fault.

"Yeah superb the FIA did a really good job determining who was at fault!" you grit out with a strained smile on your face.

"Oh really? Because your team seem to be arguing against the decision as we speak, they've been very vocal about it"

"Yeah it was sarcastic of course I'm not happy, any other driver who did that would have been let off... but I don't? My team have clips of Hamilton, Ricciardo, Leclerc, Stroll, Gasly and Norris all doing it and getting away with it. So why not me?" you ask before storming off. You didn't want to do media anymore and your PR manager could tell.

"Y/N we are trying to get that penalty lifted so that you start P4 tomorrow. I don't know what else to say, the team are trying" she says rubbing your shoulders, but the scowl on your face says otherwise.

"It's not fucking right though Cathy!" you exclaim kicking the side of the Red Bull hospitality wall.

"I know, i know. And they are working on it!" she exclaims trying to calm you down.

"They wont change their decision now though, the other teams will get pissed that they've gone back on their word..." you seethe.

"Fucks sake" you scream.

"I'm going" you grunt out, before storming through the AlphaTauri garage and grab your bag that you'd brought to the track. Everyone could see how hacked off you were, even once you put the sunglasses on and your team cap to cover the look currently on your face.

"Y/N are you okay?" Yuki your team mate asks, as he too exists the paddock behind you. You tried to ignore him, not wanting to turn round and snap at one of the most genuine and sweetest people here.

"Okay, you don't want to talk and that's fine, but please let me drive. Angry Y/N is scary driving" he advises, trying to beeline ahead of you so that he could get to the drivers door before you.

"Sorry Yuki, yeah you should drive" you manage to get out slowing down your own pace so that the poor male didn't have to run so he was ahead of you.

Aftermath:

You proceeded to not have the time penalty knocked, and you started the race in P20, however you managed to climb all the way up to P5 in a victorious come back race.

Your team were celebrating the come back and you were beyond happy in the interviews.

Moment 2:

"Y/N over here! Can you sign this?" another voice shouts at you, you were in the airport and your manager said that he would be there for you and your girlfriend when you got off the plane with security.

However no-one was there to collect you apart from fans who somehow worked out what flight you were on.

Slowly more and more people were flooding around you both and your girlfriend. Your girlfriend was a smaller streamer and therefore wasn't used to the Paparazzi.

"Guys can we back up a little, just to keep us all safe" you tried being nice to get the fans to back up a little further to make sure your girlfriend was safe.

However, as you went round with the sharpie, more and more people were pushing and you were so out of it from the pushing and pulling, the cameras in your face and things being thrusted at you that the tight grip that was once on your forearm was gone.

"Emma?" you shouted your girlfriends name, now noticing you couldn't see her.

"Emma!" you shouted in an angrier tone, people still not backing up and giving you space.

"Right, I've tried to be nice, everyone please leave. NOW!" you say sternly, and for the first time not only the fans but airport staff notice the commotion and security help you out of the circled crowd around you.

You immediately went to twitter.

'Please, if you are a fan and you see a celebrity in a public space with no security... DONT bring attention to them and DONT mob them. That was the scariest moment of my life in Heathrow Airport just now. Have some fucking respect for your idols'

You shut your phone off, your face still angry most definitely being caught by the paps. They also caught as you ran up to your girlfriend pulling her into a hug, checking over her making sure she's okay, before your hands travel up to her cheek and pull her into a kiss.

"I'm so sorry baby" you apologize as soft tears start to fall down her face.

Aftermath:

Your girlfriend had ended up breaking up with you the week after the race, the pressure of everything getting to her. You cried to Charles and Pierre for an entire weekend as your 3 year long relationship had just come to a close because of your fans not having respect for personal space and boundaries.

You were fuming and had written many tweets and Instagram story's explaining why you guys broke up and how utterly heartbroken you were, however you wanted Emma to be happy and that this is what was for the best.

For months, you were cold and off with any media duties and PR had to tell every interviewer not to bring the breakup up in the questions or they'd cut the interview.

Moment 3:

"Well, Lando... you've been here for six years now and you still haven't got your first win yet... do you feel like your going to be the next Nico Hulkenberg or Kevin Magnussen?" An interviewer asks looking down at his notepad.

"Erm" Lando says unsurely looking down.

"What the actual fuck" you spit, looking at the interviewer that asked him.

"Y/N you have input on this matter?"

"Go fuck yourself. Get yourself in a F1 car and see if you can even fucking start it. Lando has worked hard for what he has achieved so far, in and no hate to Mclaren, but a midfield car. How dare you sit there and ask him that question. Kevin and Nico have also worked hard for where they are, even just being in F1 is a phenomenal achievement considering there are only 20 seats in the world. So to answer your question, no Lando is Lando Norris and that's fucking iconic enough as it is, with or without a win. Have a good fucking rest of the panel" you rant, before standing up with so much force that your seat goes crashing back, a bang sounding throughout the room making the interviewer flinch.

Aftermath:

Everyone actually sat there for a minute reviewing how you'd just stormed out of media duties and slammed the interviewer six feet under.

"So Y/N no longer will be participating into todays panel. So Martin i believe you had a question for Lewis?" the director advised but the rest of the vibes for the interview weren't there as everyone agreed with your previous statements.

Moment 4:

"Y/N are you okay?" your race engineer asks.

"FUCK! FUCKS SAKE. WHAT A PRICK" you screech.

"Copy that. But are you okay?" they asks once again.

"No I'm not fucking okay. Tell Leclerc when i see him, I'm going to shove his wheel so far into his mouth " *cut off*

"Did you guys just fucking mute me?" you scream, but after not hearing anything you jump out the car handing the wheel to one of the pit teams that had come out to collect your battered car.

You kicked at the gravel, yelling at one of the crew asking if they saw how Leclerc had literally gone into you and used you as his crash barrier, yet he was still able to the continue the race pitting for minor wing damage.

Aftermath:

You had yelled at Charles after the race, who completely admitted to you that he was at fault and he was sorry to be the cause of your DNF. He went on to say in the interviews that he was sorry to you that he'd caused such a collision.

Moment 5:

"WOMEN SHOULDNT BE IN MOTORSPORT" you hear from the stand behind you as your signing a little boys hat that he had offered you asking for a picture and a signature.

However, something metallic not only hit you but hit the little boy that was stood to your left. He immediately raised his hand to his head, holding the bit that the can had hit before bursting into tears.

In a moment of shock you spin round looking for the men that had thrown the empty beer cans at you through the fencing.

"Oiii you two get the fuck down here now!" you point at the two laughing gents, who still at being called out.

"Don't ever pull shit like that again or I'll get you permanently banned from every sporting event you could possibly attend" you say looking up at them. They looked at you in shock.

"Oh, I'm sorry if its not the consequences of your actions ..." you laugh.

"But ..."

"No, you hurt a little boy! And me... So I'll be letting bar staff know to no longer serve you" you say before turning away and talking to security.

They ended up finding the little boy and his father. You came up to them with a gift bag each and upgraded paddock passes. They hugged you thanking you for the opportunity and saying it was too much.

You made sure the little boy was okay, carrying him on your hip touring him through the paddock, introducing him and his dad to the other drivers and then showing him around the garage. You let him sit in your car while you took a picture of him and his dad. A mechanic then took a picture of the three of you.

Aftermath:

The media went crazy seeing you stick up for the little boy and his day around the paddock with you. People knew you were sweet despite how short tempered you could be and these interactions proved it.

The little boy and his father ended up actually becoming closer friends of yours and would often be seen in the paddock or when they had general tickets people would wave as they recognized them.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz

[bandgie]

idol hyunjin sneaking around with you 😩

this!!!

getting all dolled up on purpose to see hyunjin's eyes pop out of their sockets when he sees you. it's a very important night, awards and all, but that hardly crosses his mind when he sees you in that dress. that damn dress that accentuates your waist, makes your breasts peek at the top with a color that perfectly compliments your skin tone.

and he has to stay sitting? away from you?? until the award show is done??? no! he's excusing himself from the members saying that he has to use the restroom while looking at you giving the 'you better meet me here' look. and ofc you listen because as fun as it would be just to tease him, you're absolutely lusting over him the exact same way.

meeting him in the dressing room, already bunching up your dress to the waist, him undoing the top of his black slacks to free his cock. hyunjin doesn't even drop his pants all the way. they stay on his thighs while he's bending you over the makeup counter and tapping the head of his cock on your clit.

he doesn't need to open you up. you two get enough of each other before you left home, so it's easy for him to slide between your walls. you can't help the whimper that leaves you, so you have to clamp a hand over your mouth while he sets a pace. he always starts deep, kissing your cervix before sliding all the way out to the tip and going back in again.

you can feel him everywhere. his hands on the small of your waist holding the dress up, the sweat dripping from his forehead to your exposed back. and when hyunjin does finally find a rhythm, your entire body moves with him.

the stretch is good, the way his cock fits in your walls is superb. hyunjin can already see a white ring around the base of his length from your arousal. it makes him go faster, makes his drive harder. grunting about how perfect you pussy is for him, how pretty you sound even through your muffled moans.

and when he does cum, he slides your underwear back up and helps you get your dress looking all nice and pretty before sending you off back to your seat like you're not dripping with his cum.

[n3ptoonz]

Hi I’m a bit embarrassed to say this lol, that’s why I’m anonymous. Can you please write headcanons for Bi Han, Liu Lang, Geras, Tomas and Raiden with someone who uh, really really likes to suck their cockk 🫣

😳

i sure as hell can anon🫦

explicit content under the cut

Sub-Zero

knowing bi han stubborn ass he's gonna claim it gets in the way whenever you ask more often than not, but as soon as he picks up on your fixation...you can literally do no wrong

most times he takes control, other times the dome is so overwhelmingly good he grunts constantly and gets lightheaded, but don't tell nobody 🤫

you'd be surprised with the amount of praise he gives you. it would even go to point of him noticing differences and similarities between present and past with how skilled you were. leave it up to him to make everything into fighting terms (he doesn't know how to express his emotions give him a moment😹)

Liu Kang

at a loss for words tbh. he knew you loved getting intimate with him but specifically giving him oral caught him off guard. this is only bc he's used to being dominant and making sure your pleasure comes first that he's like woah, you're quite eager there 😲

he wouldn't be one to deny you though. in a way he's still prioritizing your pleasure since you are indeed receiving it from giving him head, and was not one to ever complain!

he's not one to have or show his ego, but damn, the lewd sounds that come from your mouth and the sight of you clearly enjoying yourself does make him feel like the luckiest god there is. to have you all to himself in this portion of his lifetime is the absolute highlight and he'll never forget it

Geras

ik geras isn't some giant monster man but he absolutely has a giant monster co-

you can barely even reach past the middle, and you want to keep doing that? okay, he thinks, by all means do what makes you both happy in the end

secretly worried for your jaws and sometimes your throat. he's gonna keep asking if you're okay and would prob be very confused/concerned if tears started falling from trying to take all of him. you gotta explain it's all part of the process and you enjoy it. he might not ever understand everything about mortals, but he sure loves the pleasure while he learns

Smoke

i 1000% believe that tomas is super sensitive around his dick. like, regular sex is already one thing. but...superb head from you? he MIGHT just die

theoretically speaking you wouldn't be able to pin him down while you suck him off but a girl can dream, let's throw logic out the window real quick. he'd lose his fucking mind and start muttering praises in czech

he does prefer to pleasure you BUT who would he be to say no to you?? he gets bomb head on a regular basis and a hot partner to do it. he wouldn't even have time to ask you for it because you keep telling him you will/you want to. if you really bout it, you'll discover he'd definitely be into getting oral in a secluded public space like the bathroom or training room

Raiden

like i always say, he may come off as a shy cutie (which he is) BUT when that dark side comes out it's over

i feel like he's a switch. so, whenever you ask if you can do a lil vacuum action it always starts the same way, but never ends the same way

it starts with him shyly agreeing letting you do your thing then bam, he either starts pushing your head down more and makes you go at the pace he wants OR you're just too good and make him squirm, buck, whine, and tremble. it's always a gamble but hey, i like these odds, don't you? you two equally go back and forth with pleasuring each other and he even worries he'd get selfish but like who cares mf im tryna hear you 😮‍💨

[lovesickry]

- let the light in.

┈⋆⭒ lando norris x rival femdriver!reader [2.3k] ┈⋆⭒ prologue !

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ find all parts here! ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ contains: swearing .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ a/n: this is an enemies/rivals to lovers and I am so incredibly excited to write this so here's the prologue. :)

2022 season, driver for Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 team.

You hadn't had a problem with Lando Norris. You weren't friends by any means but you used to smile at him, give him a pat on the back when he did well on the weekend. You used to scoff at some of his sly jokes he made to reporters. You used to be polite acquaintances. That was until the moment you saw something in him you despised. Something that you saw as unforgivable.

-MIAMI GRAND PRIX 2022

You were on pole. 

You were actually on pole. 

For the first time in your career you had taken pole.

The feeling was something incomparable to just about anything you’d ever experienced. 

Stepping out of the car, having everyone congratulate you as you beamed, walking to the media pen for post-qualifying interviews smiling like an idiot. It was your first pole in your career and it warranted something to talk about. Though it had taken years for the interviewers to not comment on your gender, you relished in the fact that not a single interview today had asked about how it felt to have long hair or if it was uncomfortable wearing a racing suit and also having tits. Or how it felt that your competitors would always have a “biological advantage”. There was not one single comment made even similar to the quietly yet blatantly sexist comments you were so used to receiving and combatting. These interviews as pleasant as they were remained about the car, about the race and about the track. Things you loved to talk about when people actually listened. You look back at Carlos and Charles and they both whisper congratulations mid-interview. Miami definitely wasn't your favourite, the track was alright but what you hated the most (nevermind sounding stuck up) were the fans or atleast some of them. You'd already had too many shit experiences with middle aged white men telling you that Mercedes was a team purely for “show” or that they shouldn't make formula one a “political” sport. Are you fucking joking? 

On the other hand, all the women you met were lovely, telling you how proud they were, how amazing you were. But all the men, oh they would either compliment you or insult you, both were equally uncomfortable experiences. Nevertheless, it was something you’ve sadly gotten used to and something you refused to dwell on this weekend. Your pace was superb, you had got pole after all and the idea that a win was in the books was one that kept you awake that night. Although needing the sleep just as bad.

The morning brought a wave of heavily suspected nerves, your hands were shaking annoyingly and you kept having to hide the fact from the cameras, so as to not make a story out of it, something that you inwardly (and outwardly) despised journalists about. Their ability to stick their nose in things so clearly marked “Keep Out!” You'd already seen about seven articles this year, making up some bogus story about how you and charles were secretly dating or some weird romantic trope, getting all these photos of friendly interactions and marking it up to PR interactions and we were secretly dating. It was funny actually, the lengths people would go to just to somehow justify their hate for you. At Least if you were dating a driver they could say you were only in the sport because, oh how did Christian Horner put it. “The drivers are good looking.” Which is exactly why you’d made sure to stay strictly friends with every single one, dating completely and totally outside the Formula 1 fucked up family circle. 

As the media commitments finally wrapped up and you did the final interviews before being let go to prepare for the race you bumped into Alex, you admired him as a driver and he was always kind to you, he wished you good luck and congratulated you on your first pole before excusing himself to be escorted to the Williams garage. As you said, you were friendly with most of the drivers. You reach your drivers room and let out a sigh of relief seeing your physio standing there already. You do some quick warmups, stretches exercises before she asks if anything is hurting. You mention a point in your lower back in which she focuses on and does a few different methods on relieving some of the pain before you need to get in the car. You weigh in and settle into the car, brain fuzzed and hands though not shaking were sweaty and your heart was beating so loud you thought you might die, the sound feeling as though it was echoing around your helmet. Checking through the last thing with the engineers, suddenly you were alone on the track, open track ahead of you for the first time, you were starting alongside Max, who you knew was heavily tarnishing your chance of a win, but there was still the hope for a better start and better strategy. Maybe just maybe you could keep him behind? 

Formation lap, returning back to your places, you were doing what you were taught, think of nothing, think of nothing, close the door, close the door. Close the door. Breath, you dont dare to blink as you watch the lights one by one before they all go off. Zooming off into the first corner your mind is blank as you like it and you are focused. You’re aware of your jaw tensing as you keep max behind going into turn 8. Your engineer is giving you lap by lap updates but its not helping as you push and push to keep him barely 1.2 seconds behind. You managed the pace but you noticed going into lap 23 that the rear tires were sliding, feeling it through turn 14 and 15 as you glimpsed max in your mirrors just as you swerved slightly. You were still in the lead however and feeling confident enough that pitting know and losing places would just mean others pitting later. You mention on the radio about the rears and they tell you to watch the tire deg for a few more laps and then they’ll bring you in. you reply in a quick yes before racking your brain on how the fuck youre going to handle these for another “few” laps. Not surprisingly max overtakes you on the next lap at turn 10 and you immediately opt to pit. You exit the pit lane acutely aware of the position you will come out in. P10, great. The tires took what felt like years to finally heat up and for you to actually start gaining positions but once you gained one, it all fell into place. The undercut had worked as everyone stopped to pit for fresh tires you gained time and on the 38th lap you’d found yourself right back in p2, comfortably looking at the rear wing of max verstappen who was yet to pit as he started on the hard not the mediums. But, you figured he'd be feeling the rears go soon and you could just wait it out but also, as you were reminded by your race engineer: manage paceand defend behind. Going into the 39th lap you watched as verstappen pulled into the pit lane and your jaw for the first time in nearly 40 laps, relaxed. If you could just keep the tires until the end this was yours. Your engineer alerted you that max had come out in p11 and although he was on mediums, it would still take him what they estimated to be 12 laps to reach the top pack again. Currently you were driving steady, your gaze was forward and you remained ahead by 2.3 seconds, an honourable lead but you could always push. The straights seemed to test the car more as Charles gained 0.8 in the straight but lost that same time almost immediately in the corners. Going into lap 49 your engineer alerted of the gap between you and p2,3,4 and 5. It was only 3 seconds. fuck , fuck fuck. Verstappen was still climbing and you were still losing grip with 8 laps left could you seriously make these shitty tires last, your questioned was answered as you grazed the wall coming out of turn 2, your rear tires simply giving out as you righted the car. 

“Did you just see that?”

“Yes we did” “What can I do? I'm losing grip”

“Norris is .9 behind”

“Yeah alright thanks”

No help, cool. But now norris was behind, what happened to Charles. Aw what the fuck these tires were shit and the only hope was the brief 5 laps, however they seemed to be stretching out hopelessly as you locked up again and again. It was nearly undriveable approaching the 54th lap.

“Norris is .7 behind, he has been advised to overtake”

You don’t bother to respond, you’re trying to figure out how the fuck to still win this race, focusing all your will power into defense now as the McLaren inches dangerously closer to your rear wing. You’re cautious as you follow the racing line through turn 11, but your brain clocks out the minute that you glance in the mirror and see Lando Norris’ wheel impossibly close to yours as he attempts an overtake on the outside. You pray for no contact and it's futile, all the fucking effort you put in and the tire management was all fucking useless, because thanks to Lando Norris and his bullshit strategy and sheer fucking selfishness he hits your rear wheel sending you into straight into the barrier. What should’ve been your first win in formula one was made into a fucking joke as you watched the McLaren drive off unopposed. There were simply no words to describe the sheer anger you felt, your jaw tensed again, your teeth fucking shook and suddenly you wanted to cry. You knew you shouldn't.

Reminding yourself of where you were, you lifted your head up, being met with the red and yellow of the barrier.

“Are you okay?”

You have nothing to say, afraid your voice might break or you'll scream. You reach out and lift yourself out of the car.

Nothing could've prepared you for the red that filled your vision as you watched Lando Norris lift up that first place trophy that should've been yours.

Of course you were jealous but you weren't just that. You were fucking furious. Not only had he crashed into you, ruining your race. He had blamed it all on you, in a post race interview he said-

"yeah, no. I mean I don't think anyone is to blame but I also think she was in a position where she should have let me by and when she braked late she sent her wheel into mine."

A fucking lie. nobody is to blame? maybe the person who actually hit your fucking wheel maybe, the person trying to steal my fucking racing line maybe? There was no fucking consoling you as you made your way as quietly as you could to the McLaren garage, at least hoping for an apology. You spot him talking to Carlos and you go over, initially only facing Carlos, congratulating him on his points before turning to Lando, who is standing there with a smug look on your face. You want to punch him.

"I'm sorry about how your race ended Dylan, I really thought you had this one" Carlos sounded genuine and he rubbed your shoulder while he said it. It was a nice thing to say but you were acutely aware of Lando's presence.

"Thanks Carlos" I nod

"sorry but do you think I could speak to Lando alone please?"

he nods and walks off as Lando outwardly groans, you turn towards him and wait. For anything.

"Nothing? Really?"

he raises his eyebrows "What?"

Your nostrils flare and you swallow as you try to fathom this.

"No fucking apology Norris?" its not the most polite thing, but its the most polite things on a list of things to say to him.

he pouts his lips jokingly and then pops his lips.

"Nup."

That's it, something in your brain fizzles over, you're as angry as you can contain and you just stand there stoic looking at his smug fucking face as he holds what should've been your trophy. There is a bitter taste in your mouth as you smile out of sheer disbelief, an unnerving smile before leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

"I didn't brake late and you fucking know it"

You ignored the way his lips twitched into a kind of twisted smile or the way he went to respond before you walked away.

As you walk away from him your breathing is shallow and fast, he doesn’t try and argue with you and you are still fuming as you reach the hotel and try to sleep. Ending up on the treadmill, running until you couldn't be angry anymore but the minute you stopped it all came flooding back, blood on fire again and you were back in those fucking barriers. Your jaw tensed, you would never ever look in the direction of Lando fucking Norris again.

[yurimother]

'I'm in Love with the Villainess' Anime - Episode 1 Review

An astounding and hilarious first outing for the series with the power to revolutionize Yuri

We are finally here, the long-awaited and much anticipated first episode of Platinum Vision’s I’m in Love with the Villainess anime aired on Tokyo MX and is streaming everywhere outside of Asia with a plethora of dubbing options, including English, on day one on Crunchyroll.

The first outing covers most of the events of the light novel’s first chapter, or the first three chapters of the manga, at a rapid but steady and not overwhelming pace. At this rate, the anime should be able to cover much of the series’ first arc, or the first two out of five books, in a single cour. Perhaps a bit less, depending on which of the story’s various adventures it elects to include. This is an exciting possibility, to be sure, as the story is a character-driven, socially mindful, and expertly written and, despite its fantasy setting, an exceptionally relevant tale of romance, socio-economic inequality, and of course, queerness.

While the first arc of Villainess is a triumph, it would be a shame not to see at least some of the developments from the extra chapters that lead into the second story, like (spoilers for the end of volume 2) Rae and Claire’s wedding and their adopted twin daughters May and Aleah. If we are lucky, perhaps they will appear in the final episode or, dare to dream, a second season (end of spoilers).

Now, onto the show itself. For those who, for whatever reason, have not read Inori’s masterpiece, I’m in Love with the Villainess follows Rae Taylor. A salary worker who dies and is reincarnated as the protagonist of her favorite otome game, Revolution. However, Rae has no interest in any of the game world’s three eligible royal bachelors and has eyes only for the game villainess Claire François. Armed with exceptionally magical ability, Rae sets out determined to secure a happy ending for her beloved Claire against the coming revolution and perhaps win her heart in the process.

Now, the opening of I’m in Love with the Villainess is the series' weakest moment in all mediums, which, considering episode one’s outstanding quality, only highlights just how superb the Yuri masterpiece is as a whole. Even with its need to establish the setting, characters, and premise of the series, the premiere managed to be an excellent introduction and set the bar high with lots of laughs, entertainment, and service between our two leads.

I watched the Japanese audio, and Yu Serizawa and Karin Nanami are fantastic in these roles, with Serizawa playing up Rae’s teasing adoration and borderline masochism at full blast, and Nanami explicitly giving voice to Claire’s arrogance and frustration. She even manages to deliver a perfect Ojou-style laugh to seal the character’s elite status and lean into the show’s use of otome tropes. And having the leads sing the excellent opening and ending themes is just icing on the cake.

Speaking of tropes, while Ironi’s original work is a genre-defying masterpiece that broke the Yuri mold, it is never afraid to play with the genre’s iconography and its otome game setting. Every other scene had another allusion, including to the book’s cover. As always, I am likely overeager to see connections, however intentional they may be, but the academy’s halls harken to otome staples, the bells and strings of the first scene's soundtrack conjured blistering memories of Strawberry Panic (perhaps a sacrilegious comparison to make but I digress), and even an areal shot of the campus was another check mark on my “Scenic Yuri” theory.

Now, as mentioned, I’m in Love with the Villainess has to establish the groundwork here, and narratively, these are the weakest moments, often direct exposition, with a few exceptions like Rae’s conversation with her roommate Mash about maintaining Claire’s attention. The narration is at least accompanied by relevant and creative, if perhaps limited, animation. But to their credit, these moments are succinct, existing only as long as they have to in order to provide the necessary information and get out of the way for what matters most: the characters.

Rae and Claire are front and center from the very get-go, and there is little time wasted in showcasing Rae’s intense bottom energy or establishing Claire’s elitism and bewildered anger towards Rae’s excitement in the face of Claire’s carefully calculated cruelty. It is a montage of silly and fun competitions between the two that had me laughing and smiling all the way through, as the Yuri was present in full force, and gives glimpses at the mutual obsession the women have for each other that will soon blossom into a wonderful romance.

These early story beats have a light tone and focus on the bullying, teasing, and rivalry between Rae and Claire, a dynamic that previously and understandably made a subset of readers somewhat uncomfortable. However, assuming the anime unfolds in a similar manner to the manga and light novels, the narrative will explore meatier, heavier subject matter and a far deeper lesbian romance, all without losing its sense of fun and adventure. The next episode or two will be incredibly telling - as the source material is perhaps the most profound and forthright depictions of LGBTQ identity in Yuri, and that all starts with a pivotal conversation that, if it is included, will be coming up shortly.

Overall, I am incredibly excited for this series. The first episode is everything I had hoped for out of an adaptation of one of my favorite works of all time, save the animation, which is average at best. While there is a lot more to see, and we will have to wait to know if I’m in Love with the Villainess lives up to its incredible potential and source material, I am extremely hopeful. We have one of the funniest, most thoughtful, and queerest works of Yuri transformed into a stunning anime project unlike anything that has come before and offers the chance at not just a new Yuri “gateway” but to continue the work of its source material in revolutionizing the genre.

Ratings: Story – 8 Characters – 10 Art – 5 LGBTQ – We shall see… Sexual Content – 3 Final – 8

I'm in Love with the Villainess is streaming on Crunchyroll with English sub/dub.

Review made possible by Avery Riehl and the rest of the YuriMother Patrons. Support YuriMother on Patreon for early access, exclusive article, and more: patreon.com/yurimother

[miyaur]

—﹒⟢ The Way I Think (of you~) ft diluc, kaeya, tartaglia

summary: they caught you in the act, but you're too close to stop now!

a/n: ill probably make a pt2 of this but,, this is my apology post for u guys i promise ill come back soon 💔💔

warnings: nsfw, use of toys, sub!reader, dom!character, gn!reader, fingering (no not implied fem!reader)

diluc did mention he wasn't gonna be home early again.. so what was the harm of missing your boyfriend in a.. different way? you barely have seen your diluc all week other than small notes he leaves behind. but turns out he wasn't gonna be out all night, finishing off the last hilichurl camps nearby plus any abyss mages with them. the thought of you both finally cuddling in bed, to his surprise though, it wasn't like you didn't miss him, and wouldn't do something about the feeling.. but this way of missing him was.. truly interesting. through the candle lit hallways of the 2nd floor in dawn winery, he heard something. like you calling out his name, "dear, are y-" coming into the room, weeing you sprawled out on the bed, small tears im your eyes, giving a hint you were close, "i'm so sorry lo-" "j-just help me out please, close, i need you luc.", but oh well, let's just say you got what you wanted, a million times over

kaeya your wonderful superb boyfriend, sad he's been away for a bit too much, well 2 weeks certainly is alot. nothing else but him would be on your mind at dawn, when would he come back, when would he make you feel ethereal again, wanting that isn't so bad right? oh well, a human's imagination is infinite. he didn't mention when he'd be back, so.. what was the harm in missing him in a special way? waiting around doing nothing gets you nowhere! what about a headstart? just that, you didn't know he wanted to surprise you specifically today. "mmfー faster.. close so close" you said to yourself, vibrator remote scattered on the bed, fingers thoroughly in and out, a fast pace, you heard the door opening, (oh by the way his scarf thingy is like on your neck basically, don't ask me how ❤️) "hey i'm ho- oh my..." he says, slowly putting down the chocolates he'd bought from who knows where, "iーi'm sorry! i couldn't wait and y-you weren't there to help this, ha-hagh.. please i'm so c-close!" kissing your forehead oh so lovingly, "i'll treat you better than those toys.. don't you worry your pretty head about it anymore, i'm here."

pretty boy childe.. ohh pretty boy childe. unbeknownst to him, his cute (and fuckable) partner was quite the lonely wolf tonight. maybe the way you howled out his name at night really did it. but out if all timesー he comes home now.. childe comes through the door awaiting you to wrap your arms around him and smother him in affection again. but you didn't seem to be there at all. he wondered where you were, coming up the stairs calling your name, but being cut off after coming close to your guys' shared bedroom. and it didn't seem like you were trying to hold back, as he slowly peeked through the slightly open door, you were so close, he could sense it. seeing you so vulnerable, so sensitive for him. so adorable, just for him. the tent in his pants becoming more visible, seeing you slowly moaning out his name, mewling, in such a cute state, as he described, "my, my, you really couldn't wait could you beautiful?" he said, slightly looking up to see your lover's hungry eyes, devouring the sight of the scene you both are in the moment. "a-ah! a-ajax, p-please 'm close!" you said, your head bowing down in embarassment, "fine, just keep moaning my name out that pretty little mouth of yours."

i hope i ace my exams

[konakoro]

Public: There's no good movies in theaters right now, there's nothing to see :(

Me: (aggressively pushing Lisa Frankenstein into their faces) IT'S AN ORIGINAL SCRIPT. IT'S GOT CUTE CHEMISTRY BETWEEN THE LEADS. THE ACTING IS SUPERB AND SO FUN. THERE'S PRACTICAL EFFECTS AND ACTUAL SETS. IT'S PACING MAKES IT A BREEZE. I SWEAR IF YOU ASSHOLES MAKE ANOTHER DIABLO CODY HORROR COMEDY FLOP I WILL GO FULL JOKER

[missredherring]

Highway Honey

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Rating: R

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Established relationship. Frankie flirting. spit everywhere. make out session. thigh riding. m!masturbation. cumplay and cum eating. No Kids AU. A bit of Pope bashing.

Summary: “What’s gotten into you today?”

“You don’t have fond road trip memories?”

“Not really, and I wouldn’t call the trips I do remember ‘road trips’.” He says and you don’t let what he doesn’t say, that most of them were missions or deployments, bring the mood down.

A/N: The rumors of a Triple Frontier sequel came out and then this just poured out of me. Thanks to @morallyinept for the encouragement and @johnwatsn for their superb beta skills. Divider made by @saradika.

All bad Spanish is my own.

Santiago is the one who reaches out first.

It's late at night and any plans for a date night have dissolved into cuddling on the couch with what's left of a movie scrolling on the TV. You're almost asleep when his cell phone rings.

Frankie jolts a little; he was so close to drifting off with the warmth of your body against his. His limbs are tangled with yours, keeping you close even when there's nowhere to go on the small couch. So when he reaches for his phone on the coffee table, you go with him and end up dangerously close to falling off the edge. You squeak at the unpleasant sensation and Frankie slides a big hand from its usual spot on your ass up to your back to hold you better. 

"Sorry, baby, sorry. Lemme get this." He says. Any traces of relaxation disappear from his body when the voice on the other line starts talking. 

It's male, but no one from work, and not Benny or Will, who you can recognize easily with how often Frankie is talking with them. They bring a smile to his face as he looks off into the distance while they talk, like he can see them across the way. You like it when they make him laugh so hard he bends over in his mirth, the phone tight to his ear so he doesn't miss anything. 

This voice is different and speaking fluid Spanish. You've picked up a lot from Frankie, but you can only make out a word or two until you hear a phrase you're very familiar with. Only you usually hear it from Frankie in a different tone. The positions you were in was right for it though.

"Te necesito."

"What do you want, Pope?"

Ah. Although you’ve never met him, you've heard about Santiago Garcia aka Pope. From Benny, from Will, and from Frankie himself. There's many mixed feelings about the man and his relationship with the boys, but one thing has been agreed upon after many talks. Talks between them, their therapists, and their partners: Santiago wants what he wants and will do what he needs to get it, regardless of the damage he leaves behind. 

And what he wants this time is Frankie. Your Frankie. Again. 

Frankie's grip flexes on you and his body tenses. You look up at him and kiss his whiskery chin to comfort him, to remind him he's got you. He nuzzles you back, just a pass or two of his nose along the curve of your cheek. 

Oblivious to Frankie's tension, Santiago continues to chatter, dancing around the reason he called and flowing from English to Spanish so quickly it's hard to keep up. That's probably what he wants. Frankie said that’s part of Santiago’s strategy: he dazzles you with his attention and then keeps things going at a fast pace so the next thing you know you’re halfway around the world and it’s too late to turn back. 

"What is it?" Frankie repeats, cutting him off, his tone edged with impatience.

"Malo." Santiago sighs and it's enough to spark your apprehension into anger and you'd like nothing more in that moment than to take the phone and give him a piece of your mind. Then throw the phone out the window for good measure. 

"I'll be stateside for a couple of months and I wanted to host a beach weekend away for you guys. I miss you guys and I want to see how you're doing- catch up," Santiago's confession is heavy coming down the line and you feel Frankie brace for its impact. But Santiago rushes on. "You can bring a partner if you want; do you have a girl right now? A guy? Man, did you know about Benny's boy? It was like I took one of his right hooks when he told me-"

You roll your eyes and huff out a breath. Of course Frankie knew about Benny's boyfriend. It wasn't news to someone who kept in contact regularly.

Frankie’s hand spreads wide over your back; maybe it was a twitch, or maybe he's looking for comfort. You decide on the latter, remembering the nights you'd wake up to his hands running over you. It was rarely sexual, but he'd always stop when you turned towards him with a questioning hum. 

"Can I hold you, baby?" He'd been able to ask for it under the cloak of night. 

"Of course." It was your automatic answer, but you always meant it.

Eventually you'd coaxed his needs into the daylight and a hand stroking up and down an arm, a back, around the waist, was a touch of comfort and reassurance for both of you. 

"So you call out of the blue and want to do a beach vacation; rent a big house on the beach and all that?" Frankie asks.

The skepticism is there, unspoken. He doesn't voice it yet, doesn't confront his friend about everything he's done, what he's dragged him in and out of. It's the last part that stops him, because as many shitty situations as Santiago has talked them into, he always gets them out. Whether they're in one piece or not is a different thing. 

"Yea," a nervous chuckle. He wasn't expecting this resistance from Frankie. "I figured we could enjoy the beach–" without being shot at, without trying to keep our friend's dead body from being swept away is how Frankie would’ve ended that sentence, but Santiago tries to save it. "–with this nice summer weather."

"Nice summer weather." Frankie repeats faintly. And there's a wealth of emotion in the soft tone. He's already at war with himself and the conversation hasn't even been going for ten minutes.

When you tug on his shirt to get his attention, Frankie raises his hand holding the phone up over his head like he doesn't want anything of Santiago's, not even his voice, near you.

"Tell him we have to talk it over." You say. It was true, and it would give Frankie an out.

Frankie smiles at you and nods, a bemused look on his face like he'd forgotten that he doesn't need to answer Santiago right away. There's no deadline looming over them, urging them to move. He brings the phone back to his ear.

"Mhm," he says, sliding right back into the conversation. Had Santiago even noticed the pause, or was he just steamrolling ahead? "It sounds nice, man, but I gotta talk it over with my lady." He glances at you and rolls his eyes. "I'll get back to you. Is this your number? For now, uh-uh. Talk to you later, man…"

He hangs up and lets his phone drop to the back of the couch. He pinches the bridge of his nose and runs his fingers through his curls. You know if he was wearing his hat he’d be readjusting it. 

"Wow." You say to break the tension. Santiago’s presence is still lingering in the room with you. 

"Yea. Haven't heard from him in damn near a year and he wants to play beach house?" Frankie grumbles. 

"You wanna go, huh?" You know he does. But he doesn't want to want to go. You give him another option.

"You can blame it on me: say I wouldn't let you go."

"Nah, baby," he leans down and kisses the top of your head. "But thanks."

"Alright, so let's go. I'll be there and the boys will too. Maybe we'll finally get to meet that person Will's been seeing. Just make sure you make Santiago pay for it. If we're doing this I want a free vacation out of it at least."

Frankie laughs and reaches for his phone. You get it before he does. 

"Don't text him yet. Let Will and Benny know first, then text Santiago like next week. Make him sweat.”

Frankie rolls his eyes again, but this time he's smiling. "Alright, alright, you devious mastermind."

His hands are back on your body now, rubbing down your back before switching directions. One slips under your shirt and the other dips into your pants to cup your pussy. 

"How ‘bout I make you sweat?"

For all the tension Santiago’s sudden reappearance brings, the details come together in an extremely ordinary way: texts back and forth get most of it done, along with a coordinated group call to stipulate that Santiago pay for the house. It was six against one and Santiago gave in with a few grumbles here and there. You could hear the boys and their partners chiming in now that the big issue was out of the way. Ordinary discussions of meal plans and what people would like to do with the time they’d have at the beach. 

When he spoke, it was only Santiago’s voice; no talking quietly to someone off to the side, no pauses while looks were exchanged. Did he have anyone in his corner for this fight? Anyone he’d be bringing with him? 

Frankie shifts next to you with an uncomfortable look on his face while Santiago is saying something about an aquarium near the beach town he’d found, and you squash those thoughts down. It doesn’t matter what Santiago’s personal life is like. What matters is supporting Frankie and the others in the face of whatever Santiago really wants. 

It's an early morning when you finish packing the truck for the trip. Taking your car would be more fuel efficient, but it would be cramped with all of your things and poor Frankie squeezed in the seats. His truck might gulp down gas but it was comfortable for him and you like the bench seats that gave you more room to spread out during the drive.

The sun hasn't come up yet and there’s a chill in the air, just hinting at the cooler weather on the way in a few short months. 

You’re already situated in the cab when Frankie climbs in. He looks at you while shoving his thermos full of strong coffee in the cup holder and laughs. 

“‘Look cozy there. A real passenger princess.” He says, leaning the other way to close his door with a solid thunk. 

You wrinkle your nose at the term. You look more like a burrito than a princess in yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and a blanket wrapped around you. “I’m just comfy. You blast the A/C like it’s 90 degrees already.”

“I’ll open the windows when it warms up. You can sweat to your heart’s content, promise.”

The truck’s engine dutifully turns over but Frankie lets it sit for a few minutes. The rumbling of the engine is more noticeable in his older truck and it almost lulls you back to sleep, but you resist it when the minutes tick by. You glance over at Frankie and watch as he picks at some of the dirt that’s been pressed into the letters on the gearshift with his thumbnail.

“We don’t have to go.” You say.

His smile is bittersweet. He knows Pope won’t stop showing up until he gets what he wants, one way or another. 

“You gotta stop giving me easy outs, baby; you make it sound too tempting,” he says, trying to make light of it. “It’s gonna happen, and I don’t know about you, but the sea air and a cold beer will help.” 

“They’re not easy outs,” you remind him. “It’s setting boundaries.” 

“I don’t know if Pope’d accept that.”

“Then those boundaries are even more important.” 

A look crosses his face that you can’t place and he shrugs. Without another word he puts the truck into gear and pulls out of the driveway. 

It’s quiet as you drive through town. Not a lot of people are out except for a person looking asleep on their feet while walking their dog and a runner decked out in reflective gear, a headlight bouncing as they go.

When you pull into the gas station you both get out of the truck to attend to your own tasks: filling up the truck for Frankie, and procuring snacks for you.

He’s putting the cap on the gas tank when you come back with a bulging bag. 

“I got the goods,” you inform him in an undertone, glancing around you for good measure. “Plus some of those breakfast sandwiches you like.” 

He peaks inside the bag while you hoist yourself back into the truck and gives a little whistle.

“Double bacon? You spoilin’ me?”

“That one’s mine, but if you ask nicely I’ll let you have a bite.”

The bag is handed over while he gets in and before he buckles up he leans over and kisses you.

“Can I have a bite, please?” A little nip of your bottom lip shakes off what was left of your sleepiness. “Hm? Please, baby?” 

You purse your mouth to answer and he’s still so close that the movement makes your lips brush together again. Deciding not to say anything, you nod and this time your noses touch and his eyes wrinkle as he smiles.

“Yes!” He starts the truck and as he leaves the parking lot he yells out the window to let everyone know his good luck. “Double bacon!”

It’s silly and it makes you want to hide your face so people don’t see you with the guy hooting over a sandwich, but he’s in a good mood now and you wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

Once the highway clears of city traffic you settle in for the trip. The blanket is tossed aside and you dutifully let Frankie take a bite of the coveted sandwich. He makes such a production of enjoying every chew that you let him have the whole thing. 

When the radio loses the signal for the local stations you push in the cassette tape adaptor and hook it up to your beloved, beaten up iPod. You select one of the playlists you’ve curated for the trip and feel pleased when Frankie starts to nod along to the music, his fingers tapping on the wheel. 

The mile markers go by in a blur and soon you’ve turned towards Frankie on the seat, shucking off your shoes and wiggling your toes underneath his thigh. He only shifts to the side so you can get better access.

From this position you can look at Frankie all you want, which is a lot. His hat is at an odd angle from when he’d bumped it putting on his trusty aviators as the sunlight got stronger. You can see his eyes behind the sunglasses flicking from the mirrors to the road and back. His eyelashes are so long that you’re surprised they don’t brush against the lens. 

You nudge his thigh a little just to see those eyes flicker towards you. His eyebrow tics up in a question and you smile at him. He squeezes the calf nearest to the edge of the seat and rests his hand on the gearshift, his attention back on the road now that he’s checked in with you. 

You doze on and off, coming fully awake when you hear the sounds of Frankie’s yawn and the metal-on-metal scrape of his thermos being opened more frequently. He takes a long drink from it, but it’s only a few minutes later until he’s yawning again.

The next time that he opens his mouth wide with his tongue contracting back in his mouth, you lean over, whip your arm out, and hook a finger on the inside of his cheek.

A noise somewhere between “augh” and “fuck” comes out garbled.

“I’d offer to switch but I can’t drive stick.” You say like you don’t have a finger in his mouth. Instead of forcing it out he closes his lips and makes quick work with his tongue, covering it in spit. You take it back and don’t waste the time or the opportunity to give him a wet willy, putting the tip of your spit-covered finger in his ear. You watch the shudder go down his body, feeling no small amount of childish glee. 

“You handle my stick just fine.” He says after recovering. 

"If I do that we won't be getting anywhere."

"I'd be getting off." He glances over at you and waggles his eyebrows. 

You cover his mouth with your hand in an attempt to staunch the flow of bad flirting and he licks it. His tongue is just as hot and wet as it had been on your finger, but thanks to the width of your palm his tongue flattens out to cover more of it. Your clit throbs at the reminder of just how good Frankie is with his tongue. 

"Is that payback for the wet willy?" You ask, wiping it off on his shoulder. He pouts at you, and the inversion of his expression is so quick and dramatic from behind the dark aviators that it makes you laugh. 

"’Could've wiped that off on my dick instead." You give his shirt one more swipe for good measure and go back to your side of the cab.

"Keep driving, Morales."

The clouds overhead are getting denser and darker as the day goes on. You’re halfway there and Frankie’s getting tense. He’s sitting up straighter with both hands on the steering wheel. The aviators have been tucked into his shirt front and now you can clearly see his eyes darting to the rearview mirror. His mouth is tugging down in a worried frown. 

The day had warmed up enough to roll down the windows and enjoy the fresh air, but that meant that now the cab was filled with the charged energy from the storm. It prickles along your skin and you have to resist the urge to dispel it by rubbing your arms.  

“Frankie.” You say before touching his arm. You don’t want to startle him when he’s hyper alert like this. The flex of his bicep is the only outward reaction he gives.

“Storm’s coming. We might get caught in it.” He says.

“Ok. That’s fine.” You say, trying to convey with your tone that it wasn’t a problem, but it’s clear that the storm on their heels, chasing them in the rearview mirror, was aggravating his nerves and stirring up his PTSD symptoms. Maybe it was the combination of the storm behind them and the encounter with Santiago in front of them that was reminding him of previous missions. As much as he loved his friends, there were hard memories attached to those friendships that he could never forget. 

“Mhm.” He locks his elbow as he adjusts his grip on the wheel. 

Frankie flinches when the first few drops splatter on the windshield, but he doesn’t blink as the clouds open up. He just increases the wiper speed and keeps a steady pace. Soon he can’t see even with the highest setting, and with a curse he throws on the hazard lights and pulls off the road. 

There hadn’t been much traffic on this stretch of highway, thankfully, but the pounding rain on the truck’s metal panels is deafening and you can’t see much out the windows except rain and the dust it’s kicking up from how hard it’s hitting the ground.

Frankie sighs as he surveys the bare land stretching out into nowhere and taps his fingers on the steering wheel. With the engine shut off the tick tick tick of the hazards is louder in the cab, but the rain is louder and you have to clear your throat and raise your voice to get his attention.

“Yea, baby?” 

“Gimme your hand.” You say and he does, looking back out the window. You can practically hear the thoughts turning over in his head: if you get delayed for so long, that’ll put you a few hours behind schedule, which means you’ll be late getting in to the beach house and then he’d have to deal with Pope’s mock disappointment and whatever teasing Will and Benny would throw in. 

His hands are big, everything about him is big, even if he doesn’t feel like it when he compares himself to his friends. But his hands are a favorite of yours. You press a kiss to his palm and massage the muscles there, pressing your thumbs in and smoothing them outwards towards the fingers. 

You move closer to him until you’re pressed to his side with one of your arms around his shoulder on the back of the seat. His arm is trapped between you now, with the hand in your lap splayed over a thigh. 

He sighs again, but starts to relax, his posture sagging just enough to slope his shoulders towards you, so you kiss it. The worn material of one of his favorite t-shirts is soft and thin under your lips. This close you can feel his body warmth radiating off of him from the warm day and when you inhale you get a nose full of the deodorant he’d swiped on this morning before tossing it in his bag. 

He swallows, drawing your attention there. The urge is so strong that you give in easily, following the seam of his shirt to the bare skin of his neck. A light kiss, a nuzzle to his jaw, and then a wet lap of your tongue followed by a noisy suck to the salty skin there just to throw him off guard. 

He tries to move away, but you’ve got him pinned to the door now, and unless he wants to tumble you both out into the downpour, there’s nowhere for him to go. But he’s laughing and wrapping his arms more firmly around you. 

“What’s gotten into you today?”

“You don’t have fond road trip memories?”

“Not really, and I wouldn’t call the trips I do remember ‘road trips’.” He says and you don’t let what he doesn’t say, that most of them were missions or deployments, bring the mood down. 

“Then that’s even more reason to make some good memories on the way, Frankie.” You say, continuing the path of kisses up his jaw. The bare patches of his beard are one of your favorite places to kiss, so you press one there lovingly, before turning his jaw so you can repeat the action on the other one. 

Frankie’s head is turned towards you now, his hands holding you close. His eyes have stopped looking out the window and are focused solely on you, and the attention affects you like it always does: a flush creeping up your chest to warm your cheeks. A feeling of pride followed that heat, that you’re enticing enough to have this handsome man’s attention only on you. Like a magnet, his mouth finds yours and you share some soft sweet kisses. But soft and sweet isn’t what you had in mind.

“Wanna make out and see if we can fog up the windows better than the storm?” You suggest and his answer is a grin you can feel. He nods as well but that knocks the bill of his hat into your forehead, and with a quick swipe it’s off his head and your fingers are in his curls, scratching along his scalp. 

Groaning at your lips, he licks along the seam there, asking and receiving entrance in the same moment.  He wants to go fast, his tongue plunging and twisting with yours, but you slow him down with a tug at his hair. There’s no need to rush this. 

Slow, thorough kisses are the template for this. You press forward to rub your tongue on his then draw back to pull his lip between your teeth. Frankie, ingrained to follow orders, falls into line with you. His beard rubs on your skin and the prickly sensation heightens the softness of his plump lips as he soothes the scratches he’s left behind, trailing both sides of your jaw and then down to your throat. It’s a never-ending task of his own making. 

Wanting more access, he tries to bring you into his lap but your ass gets caught on the steering wheel at just the right angle to hit the horn. It startles laughter out of both of you and you shush his grumbling by settling on his thigh angled toward the truck’s stereo system. 

His jean-clad thigh feels good between your legs, and you wiggle closer to him just to feel the drag of the seam of your pants against your pussy. You gasp and it only takes a kiss or two to make him stop pouting. He’s entirely focused on you: rubbing his nose along yours and kissing your sun-warmed cheeks. With how you’re kneeling on his thigh you can feel the hot bulge of him against your knee. You press it into him there just to watch his chest hitch and his hips chase the feeling. 

It truly turns into something from a teenager’s wet dream then. Hands groping and fingers pressing into bared skin as shirts are removed. Sweat is rolling down the line of your back and it makes you shiver on top of him. He holds your hips down and flexes his thigh in response and you can only drape yourself on him, gasping into his neck when he hits just the right spot. 

You take a moment to catch your breath and bite his earlobe since it’s right there. 

“Are you all worked up, honey? Need to take the edge off?” You ask.

Like he’d been waiting for you to suggest more, one of his hands quickly goes to the fly of his jeans and thumbs the button free, pulling the zipper down before reaching for the waistband of your pants. You lift your hips up and away and can’t help the grin at the disappointed noise he makes. 

“Uh-uh. Just you. Touch yourself for me, Frankie.”

You’re never going to get tired of seeing him take his cock out. It’s just as beautiful as the rest of him and you feel an answering ache inside of you when he fists the straining length. He only gives one stroke, up and down, before letting go and offering his hand to you.

“‘Need some help, baby.” His eyes are so dark without the sunlight to brighten them, but somehow they get darker when you take that hand and press it under your waistband. 

“Then get it.” You say and he does. Cupping your pussy with his entire hand, he uses his fingers to part your folds, letting the wetness they’d been holding back drip out onto his palm. Just like he’d done to his cock, he strokes your pussy up and down, making sure to get as much of your slick as he can in the confines of your clothes before pulling his hand back out. 

Shining with your slick, he takes his cock in hand again and moans at the glide you’ve provided. 

The inside of the cab is filled with the sounds of Frankie’s pleasure as the rain continues to beat at the roof. The scent of him is everywhere and what little space you’d made to watch him gets smaller and smaller. Every time he strokes up, pausing to squeeze the head of his cock with just the right amount of pressure, his knuckles brush your pussy and your hips follow the downward stroke of his hand until you’re covering him again. His cock trapped between you, limiting his hand’s range of motion. But it’s an easy trade off for the feeling of your breasts pressed to his chest and the needy way you’re moving your hips on his thigh. The heat and weight of you combined with his expert touch brings him to the edge quickly.

"Kiss me, baby. Kiss me." He begs and fucks your mouth with his tongue like he wants to fuck your pussy. It’s sloppy and your chin is dripping with spit when he stiffens under you, a guttural groan passing between your lips as he comes. When you don’t feel the familiar warm wetness on your skin, you peak between you to see his hand covering the tip of his cock. Cum drips from between his fingers and a little had splattered back onto his soft tummy. 

The way it drips down into his pubic hair is too tempting, but when you dip your head to get a taste he stops you with an elbow nudge to your shoulder to keep you back. 

Frankie leans over you and grabs a few napkins from the glove box, wincing at the rough texture as he cleans himself up. Finally he swipes a finger to collect the last streak of cum from his front and hold it to your lips. His finger pushes past your lip and presses the cum onto your tongue. Your eyes flutter close at the tang of him and you hum around his finger. He cups your cheek and brushes at the sweat beading at your hairline. 

“You didn’t come.”

“I’m saving it.” The surprise is clear on his face. 

“You think I’m letting Santiago have a decent night’s sleep? We’re taking the room next to his and I’m hoping for thin walls.”

He shakes his head at that and gathers you close in a hug. “My devious woman.”

The storm passes over as you cuddle close together and when only the odd drop of rain hits the truck you both hop out to straighten out clothing and stretch your muscles a bit before getting back on the road.

The rest of the trip is uneventful and you check in with Will and Benny when you stop for lunch, sending them a picture of Frankie with a mouthful of fries. Benny’s boyfriend responds with a picture of Benny flipping off the camera, and Will sends a blurry selfie of his windblown face. ETAs are established and you can’t help but roll your eyes at how exact they get, knowing it’s going to end up in a competition on who can get there first. 

Frankie’s focused on the road now, but he takes your hand in his every now and then to squeeze it, to roll your fingers between his, and to press a kiss to whatever part he can reach. 

The surrounding land changes as the truck rolls on. Hard packed dirt giving way to shifting sands and tall reedy grass swaying in the breeze. You can’t help the excitement you feel when you can finally smell the salt in the air and take a deep lungful. Childhood memories of vacations filled with sunburns and sand everywhere come to mind. You squeeze Frankie’s hand and throw him a grin. He returns it with a nod of his head, his aviators and hat back in place cover some of his expression, but his lips are tilted up. 

The turn off for the community of brightly colored beach houses is just ahead, but so is the sign for the public beach access. You point it out to Frankie, who is checking his phone for the latest update from Benny. 

He opens his mouth to object but you’re persistent. 

“Let’s enjoy the beach a little before anything else happens,” you say and he only gives a moment of hesitation before turning towards the big parking lot where half the spaces are covered in sand drifts. 

Frankie groans as he bends backwards to stretch and feels a few pops in his back. You roll up your pants and fish out flipflops from a bag in the back. Your feet sink in the sand as you follow the path between sand dunes and then the beach is there. Waves roll up the sand, reaching for you, as seagulls whirl overhead, their cries getting carried off on the wind as it blows through. 

You walk a little ways up and down, weaving in and out of the water as you take turns nudging each other into the oncoming surf when you bump together, tethered by interlocking fingers. It’s too late in the day to find seashells, but you make plans for an early morning walk on another day. Frankie puts on a good show about sacrificing his sleep to get up with you, like he’s not the one who hasn’t been able to break the habit of an early morning wake up time. 

It feels like the start to a real vacation instead of a tense meeting of old friends who last left on uncertain terms. Frankie’s shoulders are broad and he’s not hunched in on himself. His expression is open as he watches his toes getting covered in sand as the water comes in and out. This is what you want for him, this brief reprieve, a moment of relaxation. 

Frankie’s phone chimes and you see the incoming text from Pope: “You get lost out there? Need me to send out a rescue team?”

“Let's tell Benny to take the room on the other side of Santiago’s.” You say and Frankie’s laugh is loud enough to be heard over the crash of the waves. 

[glorious-sunset]

LBFAD is the most inspiring series I have ever watched and here is why…

Although Love Between Fairy and Devil (LBFAD) only caught my eye on Netflix in December 2023, I’m so glad it did and that I didn’t miss out on this stunning and thought-provoking masterpiece. It is the most inspiring series I have ever watched for many reasons. Aesthetically, I found the beautiful 4K production quality as enjoyable as high-budget productions such as Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones. I frequently felt the need to pause and admire the well-designed sets, and exquisitely detailed costumes of even minor characters. The acting is superb across the board, and the leads act and respond very naturally to each other. The long hair of male characters is especially well-done, falling naturally with subtle highlights and looks real. All these details breathe life into this fantasy world and make it very realistic.

Every line of each song from the phenomenal OST is brimming with hidden meanings related to the series, adding lots of additional context! The artwork created for the opening and ending sequences is also full of meaning (minor spoilers ahead). Take, for example, the last picture where the OTP are sitting on a boat in the Oblivion River, the junction between their two tribes, the male lead has removed his crown and hence his responsibilities at least for the moment, and they are watching the sunrise together for the rest of eternity after the close of the series (sigh!)

Every single character of note in the series goes through profound character growth, the only exception being the abstract ultimate villain Taisui. Even the secondary villains and dictator of Shuiyuntian have grown and changed their perceptions by the end. It made me believe that anyone is capable of opening their minds and bettering themselves. Both lead and side characters are repeatedly faced with overwhelmingly bleak choices and heartbreaking challenges, especially in the last ten episodes. Yet every time, they show courage, sacrifice and selfless love that is amazing and very inspiring.

It is rare to find this kind of poignance in any production. I used to find Game of Thrones inspiring due to Daenerys freeing the world of slavery…until Season 8 happened. LBFAD tops Game of Thrones in this regard by freeing two distinct realms from conflict. The actions of the OTP break through a hundred millenia of mutual hatred and relentless conflict between their people with no end in sight, to create a new dawn of lasting peace. LBFAD reminds me of Lord of the Rings in terms of its cinematographic beauty and themes of never losing hope and prevailing over overwhelming odds. However, the stronger focus of LBFAD on the lead couple’s development and on creating multidimensional villains and side characters made it, for me, more engaging to watch.

The world-building and depth of characters has many layers in LBFAD, to the extent that much of the context was clear to me only in retrospect on rewatching the series and on deep reflection. The fast pace of the series also means that a lot of action occurs off-screen in between scenes. There are no filler scenes, there is no room for them. Every scene adds new plot twists and depth to characters, making the series highly addictive.

I am not a native mandarin speaker, and came to realise how beautiful the language is only on encountering LBFAD and its OST. It inspired me to learn mandarin, which makes rewatching the series highly enjoyable as I am able to pick up new nuances. I’m embarrassed to be late to watch LBFAD after its release in August 2022, but have thoroughly enjoyed the posts on Tumblr from fellow fans, including enthralling artwork, meta and links to fanfiction. It has encouraged me to post on Tumblr myself. I have started to post my interpretations of artwork, mandarin names, xianxia concepts, and story-format reflections on each episode. I am thrilled to be a part of this wonderful community!

Links to some of my other LBFAD articles:

Character Names in LBFAD - Meaning and Significance

Location Names in LBFAD - Meaning and Significance

LBFAD Opening Artwork - Hidden Meanings

Here is a link to my episode 1 review (contains spoilers). All of my LBFAD articles and episode reviews can be viewed with the tag #lbfad reflections (hyperlinked) and the table of contents to these is here.

[venusandsaturnsrings]

your ears rang as though a gun had gone off mere inches away. blood drained from your face at the scene, a picturesque version of guts and gore, splattered over the degrading concrete at your feet. it was a mess of limbs, teeth, and still squirming organs blown straight from the body of your best friend, as if they’d been nothing but a piñata. not a sound could leave your mouth past heavy gasps for air that didn’t feel like enough in your lungs, mouth drier than it had ever been before. a sharp whistle cut clean through your thoughts and you eyes snapped up and away from the deep merlot staining the ground, the wine of their dead body. a lithe figure sauntered through the narrow beams of light permeating the depths of the sewer, a man it seemed. cool moonlight bathed his face, lined with crude stitches, in a haunting combination of shadows and joy; he looks pleased.

a subzero fingertip traced your jawline he spoke, “well, that was unusually sloppy for me! seems as though their body expanded too fast, a real shame…” a faux pout danced over his lips before they curved into that same chilling grin, “too bad so sad, as you humans would say. how about you make it up to me? c’mon, let’s play a bit!” your mind spun to keep up with his changing tones and unusual words but you stopped on that one sentence. he was making you make it up to him after he killed your friend? a real psycho, definitely, but in the dank underbelly of the sewers you were in no position to flee and you certainly couldn’t fight against this… monster. he took your silence as an agreement, stepping back a few paces and clapping. “fantastic! superb! we’ll play my choice, okay? if you survive, maybe i’ll let you pick the next game,” he paused to giggle in a way that can only be described as manic, “alright, at the end of this tunnel there’s an exit that takes you back up to the streets. we’re gonna race, and if you win then you’re home free! i’ll help you up without a fuss. but if i win,” you feel sweat drip down the back of your neck, “then you’ll be staying here for the rest of… hm… forever!” he cheers at his own words and sends you a less than charming wink, “i’ll count to let you get a head start but after thirty seconds, i’ll be running too. okay, go!”

and his words more than catch you off guard. after maybe two seconds, his smile widens more than a humans should and you realize that was your cue. turning on shaky knees, you nearly slip and fall in the burgundy pool of blood and intestines in your desperate scramble to start sprinting. feet pounding against the ground, you heave and barley notice the tears now slipping down your face wet and salty as they catch on the corner of your mouth. barely in the distance, you can see where the tunnel ends and where a ladder climbs up to the street. you figure as long as he isn’t world class athlete, and which one would be in the sewers killing people, you’ll make it there first and be safe. that’s before a flash of light zips past your peripherals and stops at the end and you realize of course he picked a game you couldn’t win. perched to dangle upside down from one of the higher rungs, is that disgusting excuse of a being, stitches rippling with his smile. you drop to your knees and his laughter sounds like church bells atoning for a sinner.

“shame! you lost this time, little toy. i still have a prize for you though,” he’s in front of you again, “that being my name; mahito. lock it in your small brain and don’t lose it! you’ll need it in the coming however long it takes for me to get bored of you,” mahito boops your nose with a finger so gentle it shouldn’t belong to him.

“c’mon, let me show you to where you’ll be living from now on,” and you’re hoisted into the air, off to whatever corner he calls home.