#'You know what? I am useful I do have something to contribute to this world THIS ISN'T FAIR'

[orfisheus]

The Problem With the Eddsworld Fandom's Depictions of Red Leader/Future Tord, A Disabled Perspective

Disability is a contentious concept for most of society, with most either treating us with disgust, confusion, refusing to treat us as human, or to see our struggles as what they are. Ableism affects all people in many different ways, but as someone who focuses a lot of my energy in fandom spaces, the pervasiveness of ableism with how media and their fans interpet and react to disabled characters is a very personal situation for me. While many may argue that an ignorance to these topics in fiction has little bearing on real life, the prevalance of these tropes have echoed and led to feelings of othering for many disabled people, and oftentimes support the same notions that lead to the day-to-day ableism in our own personal lives.

In recent years, I have experienced this most often with the prevalance of negative disability tropes perpetrated by fanfiction surrounding the character of Tord, also known under the alias of Red Leader in some fanworks. It is a problem not just common in the Eddsworld fandom. A more recent, and much larger fandom in Mouthwashing also shares a common trend of repeated ableism in fan depictions and interpretarions of disabled characters. Most fan creators are unaware of these tropes and the harm that they cause, but as a disabled person, I am unable to ignore it.

For context on myself, you can call me Fish. Get it? Or"fish"eus? I like to think I'm funny. I am a mentally ill, disabled, and neurodivergent creative who has niche interests in representation in media and the intersection of intersectionality and fandom spaces. I experience chronic pain due to a multitude of conditions, all of which are invisible disabilities. I am NOT an amputee or have a facial difference, like the character I am analyzing. I can only speak based on my own research in my attempts to portray him positively, but I want to mainly focus on the ableist tropes I see and the real life effects they have. That is something I CAN focus on, because I've been dealing with it for years from conditions that came onset later in my life. I will be speaking from that perspective, but will be doing my best to try to educate on what I do know from my research to help authors, artists, and creatives create a better portrayal of him in fanworks.

The most common tropes I see with him are what I will call "The Disabled Villain", "The Innacurate Disability", and "The Ignored Disability". There are a few tropes in each, but for ease of organization (and the sake of your (and my) time), I will be talking about them together in these sections. There are also overlaps in many, but I will define the main issues with them.

The Disabled Villain

James Bond, Wonder Woman, The Witches. You name it. You have most likely seen this trope at work in cinema. A malicious evil-doer is revealed to have a "horrid" face symbolic of the true evil within their soul, while the beautiful, able-bodied hero is meant to stop them. It's a trope as old as time, one that goes back to even Plato. Tropes are tropes, people subvert them, so a few cases down the line may be excusable. But that has not been the case For many years, the most prevalent form of representation for disabled people was in these villains. Imagine if the only representation you had for yourself was narratives surrounding how the way you look or what your disability is and have it only be equated to evil people. It leads to a villainization of disabled people. People react to facial differences with disgust, because they are "shown" that it is "evil", or "ugly", or equal to being a horrible person. As stated by The Nora Project, "According to the book Disabilities: Insights from Across Fields and Around the World, disabled students are two to three times more likely to be bullied in comparison to their nondisabled classmates. The disabled villain trope contributes to this phenomenon in overt and subtle ways. For example, the trope implicitly encourages fear of disability and difference, while validating, and even elevating, those who fight against the evil, Disabled Villain. Bullying based on fear and disdain is almost a natural consequence of the trope when viewed in this light". Another big issue is that disabled characters have not been given space to exist outside of villainy. There are not many complex narratives surrounding them. This leads to our disabilities being downplayed, us being dehumanised, and we are seen more like props in real life, or simply tools to achieve a message in a narrative.

Tord's disability is never explicitly shown in the show. It is something more prevalent in Fanon, specifically in fanworks that focus on the "Future" era of the show's timeline, where the narrative and outside discussions on the show implies a high tech society, potentially dystopian, potentially a consequence of his actions. These ideas have taken a life of their own in the fandom, with many creators fully expressing these ideas. The problem arises when Red Leader falls in line with this trope. In many works, he is the sole disabled character, a figure of pure evil, or given little nuance in the narrative. Artists illustrate his scars as bright red, crimson, or, in TBATF, green. For some reason. In this way, they attempt to highlight the villainy by equating him with common symbols of evil: facial differences and disabilities. Unfortunately, these are not just symbols. These are conditions and scars that real people have, which the fandom tends to ignore in favor of dramatization.

This was a trope I most commonly saw explored in fanfiction when I first joined in 2016/17. The show, unfortunately, subtly and accidentally perpetrated it by having the only character visibly and irreparably "damaged" by the giant robot fight be Tord, despite the fact that Tom, who had a whole missile directed at him and got buried under a house, was fine with at most a leg injury and a cut on his arm. Luckily, we have grown past the need for ableist tropes, and the faults of the show can be left in the past!

... Not.

Disability tropes have simply evolved in how the fandom treats Tord. Even if it is now done with more consciousness and sympathy towards his character, ignorance still prevails. Let's talk about common pitfalls people fall into when writing him.

The Inaccurate Disability

In fanon perception, Red Leader is an amputee with a high tech prosthesis and a facial difference resulting from burn scars. Like many disabled characters, he suffers from a collective fandom lack of research. But never fret! That is what I have subjected myself to for the past four years, so your friendly neighborhood disabled Fish can tell you how to right your fandom wrongs! Just kidding! Take this as a pointer, and do your own research.

As is common with fictional prosthetics, his arm prosthetic is treated as a perfect fix for his amputation. It acts just like, if not better than an actual arm. The issue with this is that is isn't realistic. Yes, I know, I'm criticising Eddsworld fanfiction for not being realistic. STAY WITH ME HERE. Once again, if it was one instance, or a few, that explored prosthetics being incredibly functional in science-fiction, then it could be a cool concept. But when every sci-fi work has it, then that is no longer a concept. That is a misconception. And I have interacted with people who believed that prosthetics were 100% functional! The thing is, like all disability aids, it does not suddenly make us able-bodied. For example, I have ear defenders that I wear when I experience pain within my ears. But that does not mean my hearing will now become normal, and I will no longer experience pain from the sound I'm hearing. What WILL happen is that I will straight up not hear you. Like, literally. Can you repeat that? I had my ear defenders on. Oh, you're saying that my ear defenders aren't prosthetics and are not a fair comparison? Well, that's fair, but take this as an illustration of a disability aid and how they differ from able-bodied experiences. Also, many prosthetic users do many things without their prostheses, and some even prefer NOT to wear them. Blogs that explicitly cover disabled representation, such as @/cripplecharacters, have posts that cover WHY many amputees are not fans of this trope. The problem comes with that it erases disability, and yet also treats us like we are given a space at the table of representation. It's just another way that authors avoid actually doing research.

Other things that people tend to ignore are how burn scars, or any scars, would not only appear on a character, but also affect them. I have seen, aside from skin tones that looked like they were picked out of a crayon box instead of what would appear on a person, teeth exposed, wounds that look as if they are fresh from the explosion YEARS after they occurred, and what I like to call "paper shredder" scars. Because instead of them looking like burn or shrapnel scars, it appears as if his skin was put through a shredder. Once again, another consequence of the show's at most-30 second scene with questionable decisions that made massive ripples in the fandom. With the injuries Tord received, it is most likely that he would have two kinds of injuries: a burn on 18% of his body (minimum, based on rule of 9s), and/or shrapnel scars from debris. While shrapnel scars would manifest as darker scars, the burn scar would likely be a hypertrophic scar, as "70% of patients develop hypertrophic scars following burns" (Finnerty et. al). The scars, when healed, are warm toned on the boundaries of their areas and cool in between. When on a pale skintone, they are not too dissimilar, and would therefore not have such a drastic color difference as seen on skin. They would also not go down to the bone or skin, as that would be a completely different kind of injury, and are also commonly done to make him look "scarier", which then aids the Disabled Villain trope. It also treats these scars and injuries more like a work of fiction, rather than something that many real people have experienced, adding to continuous misinterpretations of real life disabilities and facial differences.

For writers wanting to include consequences of burns, what would be more likely to be affected are his hearing, vision, and nerves on the right side of his face, as burn scars can go as deep as nerve endings. Also, burn scars, especially third degree burns, require treatments, such as burn-specific skincare. Scars, especially burn scars, can affect you and become disabling. For artists, the main thing I don't see artists do is draw him with damaged hair follicles. Burn scars damage the scalp and eyebrows, preventing hair growth. I am sorry, but he would not still have fluffy, luscious hair. Do not kill me. He just wouldn't. And if you are saying that he had it in the show, I can't hear you because my ear defenders are on, but I hope you heard me, as we've gone over that the show is inaccurate and we should do our own research.

Even well intentioned authors and artists ignore many aspects of the disabilities he would likely have!

Which brings us to the last trope...

The Ignored Disability

Many well meaning people intend to give him nuance by trying to avoid the Disabled Villain trope. Accidentally, however, they end up completely ignoring his disabilities instead.

Just like the high-tech prosthetic, the real disabling aspects of having a disability are at best rarely mentioned. I have seen, in some fanworks, that he goes straight from amputation to having a prosthetic. And that is where his disability ends. Because the prosthetic ends up being a fix-all situation. Authors refuse, or forget, to include aspects of amputation, such as the healing process, stump or phantom pain. Artists will cover up his scars with a helmet or a mask, another trope that undermines his disabilities and attempts to brush it under the rug. I understand that there is a discomfort for able-bodied authors in thoroughly exploring how a character feels about their disability. That is something I think we should. Avoid. If you're not familiar with the experience of being that minority, you do not need to add commentary on it. And if you do, and it just falls into more negative tropes, I will send a salmon cannon at you (/j). However, I do not agree with brushing every disabling aspect of his life under the rug.

People can assume it's not a problem, like it isn't something blatantly apparent. But, if you assume that disability and being disabled is not a "big thing", you end up where your medication is denied because your insurance refuses to see your common procedure as not a necessary medical intervention because you're "too young". And that is not fiction. That is what inspired me to write this essay, because the day that I got that news was the same day I sat down and told myself that I needed to share my perspective on the perception of disabled characters by honing in on one of my favorite characters and how the fandom treated him.

Disabled characters deserve to be included in media, disability and all, with care given to how their life would operate as a result and what they would experience with their specific disability. That's why many people recommend sensitivity readers who can give proper insight upon that disability and can advise people to properly portray it.

But if you cannot afford or access that resource, what can you do?

Fish's Non-Cohesive List of Ways I Tried to Write Tord as a Non-Amputee Without a Facial Difference

Do research!! The more you are to try to understand what you are writing about, the less you are to misinterpret or misrepresent it.

Look into resources that focus on portraying disabled characters, especially with those you wish to write about. Read blogs, research tropes that are common in disabled characters, and hell, read medical journals. They can provide great insight (<< nerd who likes reading medical journals)

Include more disabled characters. Make the other boys be disabled! Want to be canon compliant? Create OCs who have disabilities! I have a bunch! It's 2024! Be cringe and be free! The character's disability would go against the traditional narrative form of "usefulness"? I'm an animator who can't wear headphones and a theatre performer who can't physically handle the volume of a band. And yet, we find ways to persist, to exist. We will always find our way to live in the way we want to, in whatever way we can.

Look into disability activism. Learn the difference between the Medical Model and Social Model of disability. Know what an invisible disability is. Listen to us when we say that we don't want to be treated as special or an inspiration for simply living (inspiration porn). The more you are aware of what we struggle in real life, the more aware you will be to not repeat those mistakes in your fiction.

Write what you can. Highlight little talked about aspects of having a burn scar or being an amputee, such as the recovery, or treatment for the chronic pain, or how different he would be in battle due to decreased depth perception. As a disabled author, I have personally touched on the experience of gaining a disability later in life, and how he copes with it. Now, not all of y'all can do that. But that is a personal experience I do have, and it is something I have highlighted in my own work. So, while I couldn't tell you the ins and outs of having a burn scar or a prosthetic arm, I could describe the shock and frustration that comes with suddenly experiencing difficulties, or even being unable to do what you had done before.

I ask that, if you are willing to do better, or to start on the right foot, you take what I have written, reflect on it, and treat disabled characters, and in turn, disabled people, better from here on out.

Fiction is not reality, but the way we deal with it is reflective of who we are and what we believe. The boundary for our own personal being does not suddenly stop within fiction. When we interact and interpret it and create for it, it is integral that we remain conscious that bigotry runs rampant, albeit often as an unseen force, within fandom spaces, and do our best to counteract that.

I have doubts that the new eddisode will treat this topic with the same respect. I hope you can all go forward with what you have read in this WAY LONGER than I expected essay, and do what those grown British men cannot. Even if they erase it, retconn it, or do not treat it with respect, let's all go forward and do better!

As for always, you can discuss more in the tags or my inbox!

I hope you have a wonderful life,

Fish

[datawyrms]

12 Steps to Stop Beefing With a Teenager

Hey @katphantom69 ! Happy Truce. Hopefully you enjoy Vlad uh. Trying very hard to turn over some new leaves with some other ghostly friends :v It's all on AO3 HERE or we've got it all under the read more c:

“When you promised me an alliance that would change the status quo, I expected better than this .” Even if the ghost lacked a complete face, the gauntlet jabbing at the delicate cheese platter filled in the gaps. “This is your idea of great change and terror?”

“Eh. You might scare one of those lactose intolerant humans.” Skulker gave a smirk as the knight seemed to grow even more infuriated, flames bursting from his helmet.

“No! Do you know how many of those flock to cheese?! It is as if they think it is a dare!”

“It is for snacking.” Vlad let out a long sigh, trying to ignore the ache already starting to settle behind his eyes. “Nor are we talking about terror today.”

“Then this is a tedious waste of my time!”

“Oh, because you do so much! Slumbering in a pumpkin all year, while I, TECHNUS-”

“Skulker, I paid you to find people interested in attending. Not literally any ghost you could find!”

“They were all very interested in no longer getting shot at in return for attending. I don’t see the problem.” Skulker’s smirk only grew as the half ghost’s fingers started digging into his hair.

This whole ‘trying to be a better person’ thing was not worth it. It would be so much easier to just shoot that smirk off that metal face- or better yet remove his entire head. Really, he probably would just do that if he didn’t have the sneaking suspicion there was some sort of bet going on to who could irritate him the most!

So he had to settle for taking another deep breath. “We’re here to talk about constructive ways to fulfill a purpose. Ways that won’t get you tossed back in the Ghost Zone by an irritated teenager.”

“Well, if I could just skin the teenager we’d solve both problems-”

“Skulker, if you keep this up, I’ll have him send you back without your suit!” Vlad can’t quite keep the pink energy from gathering around his hands, but forces it to disperse.

“Why do you even care? You’re the one who suited up another teenager to kill him! Who of course, ABANDONED your WORTHLESS tech once she had a taste of REAL POWER designed by-”

The half ghost had to cut in before Technus really got his ramble on. “Why did you let her keep that, anyway?”

Technus’ rant stopped in its tracks, the scientist somehow at a loss. “Well. I was somewhat distracted with taking over the world-”

“Which failed.”

“WHICH WAS PUT ON THE BACKBURNER- and well uh. I couldn’t get control back from the suit? My genius was so great it outsmarted even ME-”

“Another stupid accident then. Wonderful.” Vlad muttered. As if it would be anything else. Half of his life seemed like an absurd accident. “How about instead of taking over the world, you could just go to a library? They have computers now.”

“Do they?” Technus actually seemed to be considering it for a moment, before shaking his head “It might not be as much fun as causing WORLD WIDE TECHNICAL TERROR though?”

“Where did you even get the idea it would be fun?”

“Says the evil overshadowing billionaire.” Skulker chimed in, earning another glare.

“Oh that’s easy! It was the ghost child’s idea! He’s very clever sometimes!”

He was going to scream. Of course it was Daniel’s fault! Why wouldn’t it be! He probably just spouted off something stupid his parents said and oops, now the inventor ghost has a world takeover hobby! Great! Thank you so much for this extra hassle!

“I am not changing anything.” Fright Knight’s ‘helpful’ contribution at least got Vlad out of his own head for a moment.

“What, you can’t get people afraid without the threat of death?”

That just got the Fright Knight on his feet and brandishing the Soul Shredder, instead of anything useful. “Are you insinuating my fear is lackluster?”

“No, he’s calling you lazy!” Skulker started cackling as the knight rounded on him, pumpkin already in hand. “Careful where you stab that thing!”

“Squash wielding simpleton…” 

“Better this than the plastic mess I dug you out of though, yeah?”

The Fright Knight refused to respond, which was probably the closest thing to agreement anyone was going to get. Did that count as progress? No, not really.

“Did anyone here come to actually try to figure something out, or should we just call it here?” Vlad couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice, almost eager to call it a waste of time and move on to something else.

“Hey! What about YOU?! You’re a ghost that causes problems too, home slice!”

Oh for the love of fondue. “I am managing perfectly well-”

“Which is why you totally paid me to set up more cameras last week.”

“That I PROGRAMED so the ghost child’s little friend could not DETECT THEM-”

“A very normal and ‘not causing problems’ thing to do.” Skulker finished with the technological tag team, kicking his feet up onto the table as if to maximize the insult.

“Hah! You seem like a much larger problem than any of us.” The Fright Knight seemed in much better spirits with someone else being criticized. “Perhaps instead of this farce of a meeting you could find a therapist.”

Vlad could only scowl more “As if I could find one willing to work with me!”

The knight’s face may not be very visible, but the half ghost could practically hear the grin in his voice. “Surely not! There are plenty of ghosts who care about health. You would have had to do something abominably stupid to scare all of them off.”

“OH OH, like WHAT?”

“Perhaps something like, ah, stealing an immensely powerful artifact? Multiple, even?”

“Or letting out the ghost king! Who’d do something so foolish and get NOTHING out of it?”

His life is a goddamned comedy routine. Interrupting might make the two keep going longer though- so he just tries to wait until they get bored.

“Or better yet, repeatedly attacking who the leading medical experts consider a saviour! In front of them, no less!” Fright Knight was failing to keep his composure now, a cackle escaping at the sheer absurdity. 

“WHY, doing even ONE of those things would be hard!”

“Imagine a ghost foolish enough to do all of them!”

This whole thing was a set up, wasn’t it? He didn’t even know which one to strangle first. “Are you quite finished?”

“MAYBE!”

“It’s only fair we get to criticize you back. We don’t go around living over here full time like you half breeds.”

“I get plenty of that without your help.” Vlad might have added more, but stopped as the door swung open to show an irritated black haired teenager. “You’re late.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “No I’m not.”

“I didn’t think the ghost child was coming! HELLO!” Technus’ loud greeting earned him a grimace.

“I’m not a child. And I’m not here for your stupid meeting.” The boy crossed his arms, keeping a fair distance away from the other ghosts. “Did you even explain me to your little tea party?”

“No. Considering you didn’t show up, I figured it could wait.” Which was perfectly reasonable! Did he want to try to explain a doomed timeline ghost that was hanging out in a cloned body? No. It was complicated enough before even touching the whole ‘oh that ghost is two half ghosts in an angst blender’ thing.

“Figures.”

Skulker stared for quite awhile before frowning at Vlad. “Okay, this was mostly a joke- but you aren’t seriously trying to replace the whelp again?” The other gathered ghosts looked amongst themselves and Vlad, a mixture of concern and anger.

“No! He’s a time anomaly thing, not a clone exactly.” Even if he was using a clone body. Which ideally the hunter wouldn’t try to pry too much into. “I’m not doing any other clone things.”

“That’s right, you aren’t.” Phantom said, blue eyes flashing red for a moment. “Instead of doing this dumb meeting, I did something actually helpful! You’re welcome.”

Oh, that was very ominous. “What do you mean by-”

The explosion that rocked the room rather cut off any attempt to finish his sentence.

“Just removed some temptation for you, old man.”

He might be trying to be a better person. Sometimes, you just had to shift into your ghost form and fling yourself at the smug little menace that blew up a very valuable research lab. Especially when the target in question clearly wanted the fight!

Skulker, the Fright Knight and Technus could only watch the two half feral ghosts tumble out through a wall.

“Do you think he’d notice if we went and stole stuff from the wreckage?” The hunter broke the stunned silence first

“Probably not!”

“That portal better still work, I want no part of whatever that is.” The Fright Knight was already moving to leave the room and the entire farce of a meeting behind.

“BORINGGGG!”

“More for us, remember?” Skulker elbowed Technus before any extra goading could occur.

“Oh! Yes! FEEL FREE TO LEAVE!”

What was the harm in leaving a little extra mess for Plasmius anyway?

[dinsbeskar]

Ran To The Devil (Sauron/F!Reader)

...he was waiting

When all things must end, what does your heart tell you? And will you listen?

Sequel to Shelter In The Storm; finale in the series // AO3 Link incoming

Soundtrack: Through Glass by Stone Sour (I love an encore. We've used it before and I'll use it again!!), Die With A Smile by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga, When It's All Over by RAIGN, Sinnerman (Nina Simone's version is the best but also Iyeoka does a banging cover; this is where our title comes from), Kiss Me Harder by Jordan Fiction, Ain't No Grave (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens

A/N: please enjoy the final chapter of Sauron and our reader!! It won't be the last I write of them, but it is their final story chronologically.

idek guys, apparently when the world is ending, these two fuck.

for real, all your support has meant so much to me, this fic has been a labour of love, ngl, and all your feedback and ideas and likes and reblogs have contributed so much, you have no idea. Thank you so much, I appreciate all of you 💜

Warnings: 18+ only!! Smut, angst, tiny wee bit of fluff?? Canon ending, kinda, gratuitous smut, like why are they tearing each other's clothes off now?? Come on guys. P in V sex, bitey!Sauron (man's vampire side kinda comes out in this lmao), blood, mark_me_down_as_scared_and_horny.meme, subterfuge, we moving in the shadows, canon death lmao listen I warned you (but it's okay!!)

Word Count: 5k!!

"I have to go, Mithrandir, my fate is his, remember?"

"It does not have to be so," the old wizard says sagely, knowing your mind is made up. "You have suffered enough, they will not have you share in his punishment too."

You nod, but your heart wants what it wants, and it wants him. It aches for him as it always has.

"Deep down, I think I always knew, regardless of any good I have done to outdo him, I knew it would be the two of us at the end." You won't cry, your tears are long spent, but something in the wizard's sympathy pricks your tear ducts, and you have to turn away.

"Don't tell the others. At least not until I am far enough away. They won't understand."

He grasps your hands, one over the other, and gives you one final approving nod.

"I will do what I can for you, Amarië."

You share one last sombre look, before you take off at a gallop, through the broken gates of Minas Tirith to your doom.

~

The tower is deserted. The entirety of Barad-Dûr seems to have emptied onto the ashen fields before the Black Gate, not a single orc in sight as you stroll right in.

You can feel him now, stronger than ever in the back of your mind.

Úthaessel... you hear your name as if on the wind, a breath in your ear, and you shiver. Long has it been since he has called you his temptation.

"I'm coming for you, husband, are you ready for me?" You cannot help but challenge him, now in the final hours of these dark days. They have to be, or all your suffering would have been for naught.

A large iron-wrought door falls ajar to your left and you pull it open with all your might. The corridor behind it is dark, but as if he heard you wish for light, the torches on the walls set ablaze all at once.

"Thank you, love," you mutter under your breath; the flame nearest you seems to flicker in response.

Now that you know he is here, a power still to be reckoned with, you are more nervous than you ever thought you would be. You grip your sword pommel, more out of habit than any thought of using it. After all, what use has a sword ever been against his sorcery?

The door at the end is grander than the rest, polished with refined edges that the other metalwork in the tower lacks. It more closely resembled something you'd have seen in Eregion, all those centuries ago. This is the one, you realise. He is behind it, and you have no idea what you will find.

Is he confined to twisted black armour, or perhaps something more wraith-like will greet you? You had vowed to him once that you would always want him, unconditionally love him however he came to you, and your heart aches in remembrance for those golden days when you could make such promises without any thought as to how you might be tested later.

Even as you stand outside, holding your breath like you clutch your sword in your hand, he plucks the notes of your soul as effortlessly as when you first met, unseen but perceived in the melody of your enjoined fëar.

You hold the smooth, curving handle for a moment, take a deep breath, and swing it open.

The walls are lined with bookshelves beyond count, and there is a tiny, softly-lit reading nook by the window. It is undisturbed, just as you left it when you undertook your journey with the Fellowship. You ache to sit down, to take a book and just forget. However-

"That is not the page I left it on," you smile, rolling your eyes. "You're getting sloppy, husband of mine."

His attention to detail is actually superb, but you can't resist teasing him for the tiny clues that immediately stand out.

"This cushion is more worn at home. I sit more on its left than the right, this one is practically new. I might have to take it with me when I leave." You cannot help but mock him, hoping for him to reveal himself.

"Somewhere a little more familiar then..." His dulcet tones startle you, as you feel hot breath on your neck; you turn around, blade at the ready, but hear only distant laughter in response.

As you get your bearings once again, golden sunlight streams in through large windows, cushions and blankets strewn everywhere as you once liked in your apartments in Eregion.

"I always liked that bed. Never did find one more comfortable, except perhaps in Imladris. I suppose you wouldn't know." You recall how he had always remarked on the softness of your bed, delighted in laying there for hours with you; twisting the knife about these lost centuries has the desired effect.

"So what surroundings would my darling wife prefer? Perhaps... ah-"

You blink and the room has opened up into a forest glade, rays of sunlight brushing your temples through the trees, rushing water at your back.

"Is this better?"

A tall figure wreathed in golden light emerges from the brush, and your heart wrenches, skipping a beat as it did when you first laid eyes on him.

He looks just as he did on that warm lazy evening, when the world was young and you were innocent.

"This is cruel, even for you."

He cocks his head and looks down at you, having closed the gap between you so swiftly you swear you had no time to escape him; that is what you tell yourself anyway, as his hand wraps around yours so sweetly, so delicious in his gentle touch, that you cannot break away.

"Never, never to you." Gods, he is so tender, he almost makes you forget why you are here, what is taking place right outside.

"Your cruelest torments were reserved for me, or have you forgotten?"

A shiver runs down your spine as he reaches out and tucks your loose hair behind your ear.

"We do not recall these past centuries the same way."

"We never did. What with you being a power-hungry megalomaniac."

His nostrils flare but his smile intensifies, chilling you in the most conflictingly delicious way.

"I promised I would never leave you, and I kept that promise. Even when you did not reciprocate." He almost seems to scold you, the smile never leaving his face but not quite reaching his eyes either.

"I ran across Middle Earth to be rid of you, but perhaps I was too subtle."

"I gave you everything, and you abandoned me!" He raises his voice in indignation, the first sign of a crack in his facade.

"I abandoned you because you gave me everything! The moment you made the rings, what little hope I had in us vanished. You gave me everything I never wanted, and once you put that ring on my finger, you robbed me of a life free of you."

His face hardens into an ugly grimace, an expression not entirely at home on the face he has chosen; never an unkind word was spoken between the two of you before you knew who he was. Perhaps that was always the problem.

"Everything I have done was for you. They are a pair, our Rings, you were meant to join me!"

"I wasn't talking about the two, but of the rest. You'll never learn! That by needing to control Middle Earth, it slipped through your fingers as if it were sand."

"The battle is not decided yet." His smug expression churns an anger in your stomach that spreads through your entire being, limb by limb, until you want to rail and scream and curse.

Instead you collect yourself.

"I thought you perceived all from up here. Do you truly not know what awaits you?" Now it is your turn to be smug.

That delicious tic in his jaw jumps again.

"The plot to destroy my Ring? How could I not, you've hardly been subtle, my love. And you forget a crucial detail." He says, taking your hand on which your gifted ring shines in the illusory sunlight.

"Subtlety was never my strong suit." You shrug. "And you're right. Though perhaps, my love," your tone becoming cutting, "you should take a closer look."

His smirk turns sour, becomes a glare of wrath, betrayal writing itself across his handsome features.

"When?" He asks, looking down at you, holding your hand so tightly it hurts. "When did you swap them out?"

"So you don't perceive everything then." You can't help but smile.

The final detail in your plans had worked. With Elrond's help and the gifts of his finest blacksmiths, you had managed to forge an exact replica of your Ring, smuggling the real one to Frodo before he split from the company.

"Keep it secret. Keep it safe." You had said to the hobbit all those months ago; it was imperative that no-one knew yours too was headed to Mount Doom.

You realise with a tinge of sadness that you would never get to thank Frodo for all of his trials in getting it to the mountain.

"You really didn't notice, every time we spoke. I was sure you would, was terrified in fact. That's why-"

"You weren't sleeping." His jaw is set and his eyes are hard; his anger is palpable now, you could cut through it with a knife.

"I was sure you would realise. After all, you did always have such attention to detail. I guess being trapped in a tower for millennia might drive one to distraction, though." You should stop mocking him, but all of your plans coming to fruition was too delicious a victory.

All the scenic trappings he has conjured disappear, and are replaced with a terribly familiar sight.

Dust and smoke fill the air, seige horns bellow outside, and the ground shakes violently. The razing of Eregion, the event that broke your relationship.

"Sauron, enough!"

His face twists. "I never liked the way that name sounded on your lips."

"I never liked the way it tasted."

Thousands of years have passed since this day, but you would never forget the ice cold fear in your veins, and the white hot shame of knowing it was your beloved who had brought your city to ruin.

Visions come unbidden to your mind's eye, memories of him rutting into you like a wild animal, uncaring of the battle outside, of who might see or hear. You remember telling him no, as your body screamed yes, as he delved into your mind, soul, cunt, and claimed you again and again as the battle raged on, until you were a shaking, whimpering mess, begging him to just take you one more time.

"They told me I had atoned enough for your sins; that I could be free of you. But I knew there was no freedom in Valinor that would taste as sweet as bringing about your doom myself."

"Glad to hear you still think of me, even as you avoided my attentions." His charming smile does nothing but infuriate you.

Well. Not quite nothing.

You cross the space between you, reaching up for him, his face already lowering to yours as you dance to the same beat you always have endured.

His lips on yours feel like a blessing and a curse, your hearts finally beating as one after an age apart. Your soul soars, entwined with his, your fëar revitalised simply by your proximity, by enjoining yourself with him again.

He groans, low in his throat, reaching for you, entangling himself in you, refusing to be parted from you once more.

Questing fingers slip under your waistband, one hand working to remove your belt as the other delves for the hot wet prize he has been denied for so long.

In the back of your mind, a tiny voice reminds why you're here, why you haven't been here for an age, why you shouldn't let him ruin you again-

"I've missed you." His voice, low in your ear, sends arousal pooling in your core, a throbbing in your clit that you can no longer ignore, and you can't help but arch into him, pressing against him to kiss him harder.

He picks you up effortlessly, coaxing your legs to wrap around his hips, before slamming you against some solid surface that feels most likely like a wall, not that it matters now.

You're already stripped below the waist, you don't even recall how he did it, the urgent need coursing through the pair of you like nothing you've felt in thousands of years.

His fingers at your clit anchor you to reality, so in danger of floating away and letting him finally claim you as his Queen.

His eyes are black, dark veins in the sockets like the tendrils of his power that wrap around your heart and pull you to his will.

"You want this as much as I do." He murmurs, his teeth worrying the sensitive pointed tip of your ear.

It feels like worship, it feels like having the world in the palm of your hand, it feels like home.

Your eyes fall closed as he gathers your wetness, smearing it on his length, stroking it firmly as he takes you in.

"Look at me." His hand on your chin tilts your head to face him as you force your eyes open, fixing your gaze on his mouth as he licks his fingers clean.

"You've missed me." His self-satisfied smirk and heavily lidded eyes should irritate you, but it only drives you further into his arms, heat pooling in your core as you roll your hips against his.

"Of course I have. I love you, I miss you, I want you-" your desperate ramblings are cut off as he claims you, burying himself to the hilt, his teeth on your neck.

"Please... please, love." You don't know what you're begging for, your mind clinging to any semblance of logic and reason, but he knows what you want, has always known your deepest darkest desires, and loved you all the more for them.

His teeth on your neck sink into tender flesh, sharp pain giving way to bliss, rivulets of blood running red down your collarbone, his tongue chasing every drop.

The dull bite of his fingernails in your back mixed with the sharpness of his teeth penetrating your skin, the burn of his cock inside you, seemingly growing larger, harder with every thrust, as Sauron gives into his more bestial nature; after denying yourself for so long, one last time with your husband feels like paradise.

An age apart can only be satisfied by fucking you senseless; he needs to feel all of you, needs to you to feel all of him, needs to consume and be consumed.

Ever the wordsmith, but he isn't sure he could ever say it aloud, just how much he needs you, how much he's missed you; but you know because you feel it too, as your souls sing the harmony only the two of you can hear.

You can feel the tower shake, but perhaps it's only your husband's desperate thrusts inside you.

He's so focused on your pleasure, on taking what he needs from you, that for a moment, just a moment, his mask slips.

Your skin crawls, your limbs shake, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you.

It isn't that he isn't beautiful. He is, terribly so.

You were the first and only being to set eyes on his true form after the fall of Númenor, and it comes as no surprise now, but somehow you had forgotten, or blocked out, the striking nature of his appearance.

To look upon him is to know the sublime. Beauty and terror in one visage, dreadful to behold but captivating.

It is only for a moment, but it shakes you to your core, and he pulls away, leaving you breathless, your blood running cold in your veins.

"Love-" you begin to call after him but he turns on you, hand at your throat so quickly, so close to dragging you up the wall by the neck, your hearts racing.

"How can you call me that? After that- after what you just saw?" He growls into your neck, burying his face in your hair, nose at your jaw, anything but precious eye contact.

"Do you think me so fickle, so shallow, that I would be daunted by your darkness? I see you. After all this time, I see you, for what you truly are. No more deception, no pretty disguise. I promised you once I would never care what form you took. I keep my promises, love."

He kisses you hard, running his hand down your back, as the other grips your hair and pulls your head back, baring your throat.

"Show me."

His teeth falter on your neck, as your whisper reaches his ear. He regards you with as much softness as he can muster, letting his deception melt like iron in the forge, remade anew.

No pretty face, no gorgeous facade to hide behind.

You feel like your heart might beat out of your chest to join his, cold terror washed away by the heat in your core and the yearning in your heart.

He lets you drink him in, your fingers gingerly tracing old scars on his deathly pale skin.

"Is this what you wanted, wife of mine?" For the first time in an age, he sounds uncertain, a tiny tremor in his voice.

Anyone else might have missed it. But you know him too well.

You can only nod, melting into his embrace once more, drawing out the inevitable as he rolls his hips into yours once more.

A piercing shriek overhead, coming from somewhere close to the tower, distracts you long enough to gather your senses, even as he is wrapped around you, blood and fire and ash just outside.

"Surely you must know it is all in vain." You manage to choke out, his cock leaving little room for the air in your lungs.

"What do you mean, darling wife?" He draws back to regard you, still convinced of his triumph. "I see no victorious party yet. Half a day and your beloved free peoples will be under my rule. There is no will mighty enough to challenge me."

He angles his hips just right to make you see stars on every thrust, and before long, you're clenching around him, his own peak following yours in quick succession.

You're starved of breath but you lean your forehead against his and whisper, "Except mine. Even now, you are blind to what is happening on your doorstep."

His power was often difficult for you to use, to control, but you had centuries to learn how to wield it like a sword and shield. And a door opens both ways. With him inside your mind, you could step inside his, and use his Eye to watch for Frodo undetected.

His eyes widen as he realises far too late. He sends out his ringwraiths but it is for naught. The Ring falls into the fiery chasm from which it was made, and just like that, it is over.

He reaches for you, and without any thought of doing otherwise, you let him embrace you one final time as you both go to meet your fates.

~

When you wake, there is nothing. No up, no down, no light, no dark. It is, to say the least, disorienting. After a while in your own head, you begin to sense movement, glimpse shadows out of the corner of your eye, and some sweet song echoes far off, the like of which you have never heard.

A warmth begins to flow in your fingers, as you regain your sensation, sitting up slowly to take in your surroundings.

A hand on your shoulder warns you to take it slowly, and you look around, unflinching but curious. Whoever it is, they mean you no harm; somehow, this place feels familiar.

It takes you a moment, a century, you can't be sure, but your surroundings come into focus, and the being beside you helps you to your feet.

She is beautiful, like nothing you've ever seen. A sheer veil adorned with tiny shimmering crystals falls across her perfect face, making her appear as if-

"She who weeps." You exhale slowly, in disbelief.

Her smile is so radiant, you can hardly believe she is known for her tears.

"You would know me best of all. It's why I was chosen to greet you, to take you where you need to go." Her voice passes straight through you, soothing your aching bones, washing away your grief.

Nienna stands and takes your hand, helping you to your feet. Guardian of grief and pity, it is only right for her to meet you at the end.

"So these are the Halls we are promised after death. Shame." She looks at you questioningly and you shrug. "After all this time, I was hoping to see-"

You cannot finish that sentence. You have arrived in Valinor, you have been granted entrance to these sacred Halls, against all odds, and yet your heart still clings to him.

It is as if she reads your mind. She probably does, now you stop to think.

"You wonder of his fate." She smiles, a sweet mixture of understanding and sorrow.

"He is the other half of me. I cannot help but be pulled along in his current." Surely she must understand, cannot possibly judge you for your soul's basest desire.

"You can see him. If that is what you wish."

You stop in your tracks, your surroundings and present company all but forgotten, as you realise all may not be lost.

"He is here? But I thought-"

"He was destroyed. But it is impossible to annihilate such a spirit as Sauron wholly. Especially as he has an anchor." She looks pointedly at you, and a shiver runs down your spine; even after millennia of fighting him, he wasn't gone, because of you. "There is a shred of him left, and he has been asking of you."

Your heart sings; perhaps all is not lost, the other half of your soul anchored in purgatory waiting for you, holding on for you to join him.

"Where is he? I do not feel him?" The emptiness in your soul had plagued you since waking, but you had assumed it was because half of it had simply ceased being.

"Somewhere safe. Somewhere he cannot exert his will. And if you choose to be with him, you cannot return here. It would be your fate as well, until the ending of days."

"Is it what he wants?" Ever the dutiful wife, if Sauron wishes to be left alone for all eternity, you cannot deny him.

"He needs clarity. You are his clarity."

You nod, weighing up in your mind whether he would truly want to be bound to you with no other company for the rest of his days.

"And what about my rest? Do I not deserve peace?"

"Would it be peace without him?"

It is not a difficult decision.

"Take me to him."

~

The wonders of this new land stun you as you pass through them, never to see them again. But there is no doubt in your mind that this is the right course.

Slowly all fades until there is nothing again, only soft song that ebbs and flows to a crescendo, that breaks upon your arrival in your new purgatory.

You look around and tears spring to your eyes, though you try to deny them. Golden sunlight, soft petalled carpet, endless forest greets you.

"We're back." A breathless whisper that none can hear now, for you are truly alone in this endless wonderland.

It doesn't take you long to find him, the familiar melody of his fëa calling out to you as it always has.

A large iron wrought throne sits in the middle of your glade where you'd first met, the sight jarring. Upon it he sits, almost deliberately lounging as if enjoying the rotten fruits of his labours. But you know different, and the second your gaze falls on his, the facade begins to crumble.

"They told me you were coming." Beneath his cracking exterior, he sounds utterly defeated, and despite yourself you feel pity for your beloved in such a sorry state; after all his evils and malice, he is trapped here in paradise, unable to weave his songs and spells.

"I had to see you for myself. I didn't believe it."

"Now you have. Take heart and rejoice, your king is overthrown." He tries for condescending disdain, but all you hear is a broken man.

You should not pity him, you know it is all for naught, that he deserves this fate.

But to be cut off from the Song is punishment enough. He does not need your wrath too.

"How can I rejoice? The only thing I can take heart in is knowing I have you to myself, for all the ages of this world." To you that sounds like bliss, after endless wars and malice, but you imagine that for him, it is probably torture.

A cruel final trick of the Valar, sublime in its judgement, equal in its share of heaven and hell.

"They said you did not have to stay. That you could leave me if that is what you choose." His golden eyes drop to the floor again, refusing to witness your rejection for the umpteenth time.

"I suppose I don't. But I did wonder what eternity would look like without you."

"This is hardly the paradise you deserve," he scoffs, casting his gaze anywhere but on you.

"It could be. If we are together, it will be." You kneel down, looking up at him, begging him to listen.

"You could choose any other fate, why would you stay here with only your broken husband for company forever? Eternity is a long time."

"That is exactly what I thought. Forever is too long a time to be without you. We've spent so long starved of one another, I can suffer that fate no longer. I choose you." The words tumble from your lips before you realise you had in fact made up your mind, as if your body already knows your decision and grew tired of waiting for the pair of you.

He refuses to look up at you, fingernails digging into the armrests, head hung low. He is sure this is yet another trick of the Valar, perhaps to taunt him with the promise of one good thing in his everlasting purgatory. The promise of breaking his master's curse in defeat, to have and to hold you until the end of days, sounds far too good to be true. Sauron, defeated, is not the man you married. Thankfully.

"I ruined you." He mutters, almost too quiet to hear.

You kneel before him, taking his hand in yours.

"You remade me."

"Not in the way you deserve." He looks up then, and his face is red, eyes wet and puffy; your heart aches, wrenches in two at the sight.

"But in the way I needed."

He gives a derisive snort and turns away.

"No, look at me." You turn his face back to you, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I would not be the person I am without you. You did that. For good or evil, I am yours, and you are mine. All we have is each other. If you'll have me now."

His face twitches, but he doesn't reply, fixing an impassive expression that gets under your skin immediately. After everything that he has put you through, he can listen to you now.

You grip his face urgently, softly, all at once, pulling him to really look at you, imploring him to listen.

"You swore to me once that you are my home. Do you remember?"

He sighs, a long exhale, before finally looking up at you of his own accord.

"Of course I remember. I remember it all."

"And I am your home? We swore, a long time ago, but it still holds, does it not?"

His face twitches, and his fingers flex as if to release themselves from their claw-like grip around the twisted armrests of his throne.

"Do you regret it? Any of it?" The moment the question escapes your lips, you wish to take it back.

At that, he looks up at you, carefully regarding you as if you'd asked him to reveal the secrets of the universe.

After what feels like eternity, he answers you.

"I regret losing you." His tongue forms the words as if through cotton wool, unused to expressing anything but surety, his will to dominate all but spent.

"I regret that too." You whisper, taking his hand in yours.

"Mairon... my love..." You can't help the tears that well from the depths of your heart, as you use his true name for the first time in centuries.

His breath hitches and he reaches out for you, tracing your cheek, marvelling at the glittering tear tracks on your skin, his illusion of neutrality finally broken.

"We have fought too long and too hard for this to be our ending." You pour all your energy, all your love and devotion into the bond the two of you share, hoping maybe he remembers the feeling.

"So let us find another one." Tears blind you as you speak, but to wipe them away would mean letting him go, and you refuse to do so; instead he does the job for you, cupping your face gently, wiping each tear away as they fall.

"I choose you," you whisper, emphasising every word, your heart swelling as his tearstained face breaks into the first genuine smile you've seen in centuries.

"I choose you. I always have." Your voice cracks as he pulls you to him, claiming your lips with such tender passion that you melt into his embrace, his kiss an answer in itself.

Finally you feel whole. For the first time in millennia, you are home.

[mohammedalanqar]

At the Crossroads of Humanity: A Fa***y That Needs Your Voice, Hand, and Heart

In this world, where wars burn at its edges like an unquenchable fire, and where souls fade away amidst storms of pain, I write to you today not as a writer, but as a human being. A human being who has only words to awaken the shared conscience within us, the hope that we can still be better.

There is a family, just like any other, that once lived in peace. A modest home filled with children’s laughter and big dreams of parents striving for a brighter future. Mohamed, an engineer driven by resilience, and Enas, an English teacher who inspires hope in her children and students alike. They have four children: Layan (11 years old) with her keen intelligence, Sarah (9 years old) with a smile that melts hearts, Adam (4 years old) with his boundless energy, and Amir, a 6-month-old infant who knows nothing but his mother’s embrace. These children carry dreams in their eyes that have yet to be touched by war.

But war does not choose its victims. Today, this family has lost everything. Their home reduced to ashes, their security vanished, and their youngest sleeps cradled by fear.

We now stand at a crossroads. Can we look into the eyes of this family, and into the eyes of our own children one day, and say: “We tried”? Or will we choose silence and let humanity’s flame flicker out in this darkened world?

I know that among us here on this platform, Tumblr, there are writers, artists, creators, leaders, and hearts full of compassion. Imagine if each of us, with our pens, our voices, and our keyboards, chose to make a difference. Imagine if we shared this story, making it the talk of Tumblr and every corner of the internet.

Let’s think of this post as a beehive. Each of us is a bee carrying a drop of honey, a drop of hope, to create something bigger. Every share, every repost, every contribution is a step towards bringing this family to safety.

Let’s create a miracle.

Not because we need to prove something, but because this is the true face of humanity. Because we are stronger together. Because love and generosity are the most profound gifts we can offer, especially when the world needs them most.

If not today, then when? If not for them, then for whom?

We have an opportunity to show the world that the internet is not just a place for fleeting pictures and laughter but a force capable of changing lives. Let us show everyone that the Tumblr community can be a refuge for those who have none.

You, each of you reading these words now, are the true heroes of this story. Don’t let this post end here. Carry it on your wings, spread it as light that reaches every dark corner. Share it on Tumblr, weave it into stories on Instagram, tweet about it on Twitter, and make it a voice that cannot be silenced.

Let’s unite as one.

Let’s build a bridge for this family and create an unbreakable wave of hope.

> “In the end, none of us will be asked how many books we’ve read or songs we’ve written, but how many lives we’ve helped.”

“We may not change the entire world, but we can change the world for this family.”

Be the light that brightens their path. Share, create, and spread hope wherever you can.

you can support them through their campaign here:

Click here to support the campaign.

They are vetted here on nabulsi and el-shab-hussein's spreadsheet here (174)!

Let’s unite and make a real difference.

, , , , , , , , , , ,

[pucksandpower]

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader - Social Media AU

formulagossip added to their story

f1wagupdates

Liked by lightsoutmax, verstappenupdates, and 152,836 others

f1wagupdates Max Verstappen spotted leaving his hotel with a mystery woman this morning after celebrating winning his third World Championship last night. According to sources, the two partied together with the team and friends at a club following his victory before heading back to the hotel. Her face is hidden but rumor has it this could be a new romance for the World Champ. Looks like Max is enjoying the spoils of another successful season!

View all 326 comments

lightsoutmax probably just a random groupie, max isn’t the relationship type

dutchlioness no way that’s a groupie

f1wagupdates i’m inclined to agree, they look pretty serious!

formulanone am i crazy or does that look like y/n leclerc to anyone else?

redbulletin you’re crazy

gridgossip i mean i wouldn’t be surprised. i bet this has been going on for a while between them! it would explain how she got the CTO job out of nowhere

f1girlie or she got it because she’s qualified and was literally trained by adrian newey to take over for him? it’s 2024, leave the misogyny at the door

maddermax i don’t think max would get involved with someone from his team

circuitqueen she looks so familiar but i can’t place her! it’s driving me crazy

verstappenupdates whoever she is, i need more details! our world champion’s love life is suddenly looking very interesting 😍

survivetodrive you need to learn how to stay out of drivers’ business

rblover for real! let the man live

maxverstappen1

Liked by y/n_leclerc, redbullracing, and 2,094,617 others

maxverstappen1 Five World Championships!

This one feels extra special because I get to celebrate with the love of my life who has been by my side for over three incredible years now ❤️

So I want to dedicate this championship to Y/N

Seeing Y/N thrive as Red Bull’s Chief Technical Officer and pursue her passion for motorsport after everything she has been through has been so special. Her brilliance and determination inspire me daily, both on and off the track. And her contributions to the team have been invaluable to our success. I am so lucky to have such an incredible partner to share these championships with

Winning races and championships is great but sharing my life with someone as smart, driven and caring as Y/N is the greatest gift I could ever ask for. I truly am the luckiest guy in the world. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us both. Here’s to many more years of continuing to chase our dreams together!

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redbullracing our world champion found his perfect match! wishing you both continued success and happiness 🤩

christianhorner so proud of you two. the ultimate power couple!

danielricciardo i knew something was going on there. congrats you two!

maxverstappen1 you don’t have to pretend like you didn’t know about us

y/n_leclerc you literally third-wheeled our last date night … and the one last month … and the one over summer break

y/n_leclerc i love you with all my heart, champion! thank you for always being my biggest supporter. so blessed to have you in my life 🥰

charles_leclerc how could you do this, y/n? after everything our family did for you?

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verstappenupdates our guy is all grown up 🥹 you two are goals!

f1wagupdates omg! when did this happen??? why has it been a secret for so long?

lightsoutmax pretty sure they got together the year before y/n was hired by red bull

redbulletin and they probably kept it a secret because people would have found a way to twist it into something negative

officialorangearmy relationship goals to the max! you two are perfect together 🧡

y/n_leclerc

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 473,825 others

y/n_leclerc What a season! Winning a double championship for the second time feels so surreal. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for my incredible team at Red Bull Racing who made this possible through their tireless hard work. We did it 🏆

And most of all, I am grateful for my incredible partner. Max, you’ve supported me every step of the way, encouraging me to follow my dreams and become who I was meant to be. You showed me what true unconditional love feels like

I am where I am now because of you. Your spirit pushes me to achieve greatness. Your kindness lifted me up when I needed it most. Your smile keeps me going on tough days. I couldn’t ask for a better teammate in life ❤️

The future is so bright for us. I can’t wait to see what we create together next. I love you! Let’s keep aiming for the stars ✨

View all 2,196 comments

maxverstappen1 you make me so proud every day! loving and winning with you feels incredible. can’t wait for the rest of our lives together ❤️

redbullracing the ultimate teammate on and off the track! you two are unstoppable 👊

christianhorner red bull is lucky to have such a power pair leading our team. more glory to come!

danielricciardo you guys are relationship goals! congrats champs

charles_leclerc how long until you throw away this “fairytale” like you did our family?

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*this user has been blocked*

y/n_leclercfanpage our inspiring queen found her king! you give us hope that dreams do come true

f1girlie not me literally crying tears of joy 😭 they are so perfect together

womeninmotorsport seeing powerful women thrive in f1 gives me life 👏

[feeder86]

The Neighbor's Boy

“So, do you want to tell us what the fuck is going on?” laughed Martin as Nick’s new boyfriend headed away to the bathroom.

Nick smirked and sat back in the chair, filling his broad, muscular chest with air and looking around at all the chubby boys’ expressions. “What?” he teased, pretending not to know what they were all so surprised about. “Duncan’s a nice guy.”

“But you don’t date nice guys,” Martin countered. “In order to date nice guys, you need to be a nice guy yourself.”

“Ouch!” Nick chuckled, enjoying his bad boy status with the guys. Despite his kind eyes and pretty face, Nick was never without an ulterior motive. “That hurt!” he lied, looking around and seeing even the guy behind the bar checking him out. “I’ll have you know that lots of people think I’m a very ‘nice’ person!”

“That’s because they don’t know you like we do,” Ben contributed, looking around at all of the other chubs in their circle. “And I bet sweet little Duncan doesn’t even know you’re a feeder, does he?”

Nick raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Of course he doesn’t.”

The chubs all looked at each other disapprovingly, despite the kinky thrill they secretly felt. Each one of them owed a good few pounds of their own blubbery physiques to Nick and his incredible ability to arouse them whilst they ate for him; the best and most skilled feeder they had ever come across. “You’re not going to fatten up him are you?” Martin asked. “Not without him knowing?”

“I’ve already started,” Nick laughed. “I got seven thousand calories in him the other day and he barely even noticed.”

“Nick!” Ben sighed. “That’s not cool!”

“I am what I am!” Nick sniggered unapologetically. “I see a little skinny shit like Duncan and my dick tells me I’ve got to feed him until he’s got some decent tits and a proper double chin on him!”

“Why him, though?” Ian asked. “He seems so sweet and innocent.”

Nick shrugged. “My parents were trying to set me up, saying they were sick of all the ‘mysterious guys’ I seemed to date,” he laughed. “Duncan’s family lived on my parents’ street and he’s just come back from college. I remember him as the little gay kid that used to stare out of the window whenever I was mowing my parents’ lawn shirtless at the end of high school,” he smirked, having been the focus on many sexual fantasies for several years now. “I didn’t have much to do with Duncan back then. He’s a couple of years younger than me. But Duncan’s dad was the fattest guy on our street, so of course I had a crush on him growing up. Now his mom is quite friendly with my mom and they’re trying their best to get us together.” he laughed at the idea. These fat boys knew him best in the whole world. Anyone with a real sense of who Nick really was would keep their handsome sons far away from him. “I thought dating Duncan would be a great opportunity to show my parents that they need to keep their noses out of my love life.”

“So, you’re dating him and secretly fattening him up to teach your parents a lesson about interfering?” Martin asked, exasperated.

“Pretty much,” Nick nodded. “Once they see the boy sprouting a little gut, they’ll soon realise the mistake they’ve made. It won’t take any of them long to work out who was responsible. I am a feeder after all…,” he whispered, spotting Duncan making his way back from the bathroom and sitting back up again. “That sounds incredible!” Nick lamented, as if they had been discussing something completely different the entire time.

“What does?” Duncan asked curiously, assuming that the boys were in the middle of a riveting conversation.

“Martin was just saying about this amazing donut place we need to try out later,” Nick lied. 

“Oh, yeah?” Duncan smiled over at Martin. “Sounds good. I love donuts.”

The boys all looked at each other guiltily, none of them willing to sound the alarm bells to Nick’s new lover; now all equally complicit in the whole wicked business.

“Your friends are so great,” Duncan smiled, getting into the back of the cab whilst holding the large box of donuts Nick had bought him.

“And they really liked you,” Nick smiled, taking the box from him and ripping it open for Duncan to try one. 

“They’re not at all how I imagined,” Duncan replied, nibbling on one without a second thought. “I remember you always hung out with the jock crowd in high school.”

Nick smirked to himself. Clearly Duncan hadn’t even recognised Martin as being one of those high school jocks he used to hang out with; now a full one hundred and sixty pounds fatter than in those days, thanks to him. “I choose my friends based upon how fun they are, rather than how they look,” he lied innocently, already picking up and handling Duncan’s next donut.

“I really like that about you,” Duncan smiled. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, before the pair kissed gently.

Nick stroked his lover’s hair as the third and fourth donuts mindlessly disappeared down Duncan’s throat during their short journey back to his place. Duncan was the son of a fatty alright. That greed was inside there, waiting to be enabled. “Perhaps…” he teased, closing the lid on the donut box, “you could eat the rest of these off my dick when we get back?”

Duncan nodded keenly. Nick had started introducing food into their foreplay last week and it had gone down well ever since. It was so obvious that Dunan had been fantasising about being with Nick since he was a teenager and first realised he was gay. It was almost pathetically simple to make him climax and he’d slipped into a more submissive role in the bedroom with ease. 

The naive boy kissed his manipulative lover, not even realising that the guy was adding up all his calories and hoping that today could be a new record.

Over the next few weeks, Duncan became a sucker for the romance: the hand holding, Nick sitting him on his knee and holding him prtotectively around the waist. The guy’s friends thought that Nick was the sweetest man on Earth; his mother made up that Duncan had found someone so openly affectionate. It all helped to mask the gradual softening that was happening all over Duncan’s body; the glutes swelling just a little more each time Nick ploughed his dick between them.

“You got your protein shake?” Nick asked as the pair of them headed off to the gym, where Duncan would spend the majority of his time spotting Nick on the weights and lifting the bare minimum himself. Yet, he would still flush down Nick’s bespoke shake, filled with creams, oils and powders for a truly staggering daily calorie overdose.

Duncan nodded. He’d never been in such a thrilling relationship as this; never experienced a kinky fuck in the cubicles after a workout at the gym, nor been lavished with such open affection in any of his previous romances. The love, the pampering, the endless sex acting as the perfect smoke screen for what was actually happening beneath the surface. Duncan simply threw the shake into his gym bag and then followed his lover out without a second thought.

Dating Duncan was having its advantages. Having parents who were quietly very comfortable had always given Nick a fair amount of entitlement. However, despite never going without as he was growing up, his parents had given him a large dose of tough love once he left college. The easy line of credit had been cut off and Nick’s parents had decided he needed to make it on his own in order to learn the true value of things. Now their hard approach seemed to be easing, given how pleased they were to see him dating someone they approved of so much. In the last month alone, they had thrown a whole heap of cash at repairs for the sports car they had bought Nick for his twenty-first, as well as transferring plenty of money to pay for a romantic getaway in the mountains. The purse strings were well and truly opened again.

“Do you think I’ve put on weight?” Dunan asked, rubbing his stomach in the mirror one evening as he got up to get a glass of water.

Nick managed to keep a straight face. The answer was more than obvious from the direction he was looking: doughy glutes, swollen thighs and budding love-handles; Duncan was well and truly morphing into a chub. “Of course,” Nick replied. “Your shoulders look much bigger after all those workouts,” he lied.

“No, not that,” Duncan shot back, studying his stomach and pinching a little. “Do you think I’m getting fat?”

Nick got up and slipped off his underwear. He’d been considering how best to answer this question for some time. “Why don’t I take a look?” he smiled teasingly, letting his hardness press between Duncan’s butt cheeks; its second home. “Mmm, yes!” he moaned. “There’s definitely an improvement back here,” he whispered.

“An improvement?” Duncan asked in surprise.

“Of course!” Nick whispered. “You like getting fucked, right?” 

Duncan nodded; his own dick starting to stiffen as his muscular boyfriend started to slap lubricant between his cheeks.

“Well, guys like me always prefer to fuck a guy with a little more meat back here.” He pressed himself inside and moaned with appreciation and he swayed his hips into action. “Mmm, fuck!” he sighed, watching as Duncan’s arousal grew even as he had just admitted to him that he was indeed starting to get chubby.

“You really like it?” Duncan whispered back just as Nick’s lubricated hand slipped onto his dick at the same time. “You’re not just saying that?”

Nick continued thrusting as if his lust prevented him from doing anything else. “You want me to enjoy fucking you, right? Can’t you feel how extra hard my dick is today?” he breathed into Duncan’s ear.

Duncan moaned in arousal.

“I’m going to finish so fast…” Nick added next, holding his boyfriend’s hardness at the same time and sensing that he had absolute control of the situation. “Keep spreading those big, delicious butt cheeks for me!”

Duncan leaned forward and pressed himself into Nick’s groin, submitting himself more than he knew..

“Well, boys… what do you think?” Nick asked after sending Duncan off to buy some cotton candy as the rest of them meandered around the funfair.

Nick’s chubby friends all looked at each other, then back at Duncan’s enlarged rear as he queued up by the stall. “I can’t believe he hasn’t even noticed yet,” Ben replied.

Nick sighed in frustration. These fatties really didn’t understand anything. “Of course he’s noticed, you idiot!” he growled. “You can’t gain thirty-five pounds and not notice! Not when you’re as skinny as Duncan used to be!”

“Thirty-five pounds?” Martin asked. “Is it really that much?”

“Easily,” Nick chuckled. He could estimate a guy’s weight better than anyone else he had ever met. “And not an ounce of it has been muscle!” he smirked. “Just take a look at those love handles if you don’t believe me.”

“How the fuck are you still getting away with this?” Ian asked, bewildered as he saw Duncan scratching his stomach in the queue for cotton candy.

“Easy,” Nick shrugged. “Bombard a simple boy with pure pleasure, then sit back and watch. It’s really not rocket science. All boys are pigs if you know what you’re doing. And, you know me, I’ve never struggled to put weight on anyone before; as I’m sure your blubbery thighs can attest to,” he winked at Martin.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Adam jumped in. “How much longer until he works out what you’re really up to and dumps you?”

Nick looked over at Duncan in the queue and waved sweetly. “I’d say I’ve got at least another fifty pounds or so before that happens,” he chuckled to the boys. “The greedy little fucker is hardly the brightest I’ve ever come across.”

Without even realising it, the other guys were a great help to increase Duncan’s calories that day. Collectively, they gorged and snacked the entire time as Nick sat back and watched. It was what he loved best about feeding. It wasn’t just about stuffing someone until they nearly puked; it was about the long term training and habit-forming he had programmed into all of them, ensuring that they ate, almost mindlessly, the entire time.

“I’ve got such a boner after watching you eating that hot dog…” Nick whispered to Duncan later that evening, adjusting his pants. “You were practically deep throating it,” he teased.

Duncan grinned. ”Well, you know how good I am at taking something long and thick into my mouth…” he teased back, thinking he knew the game that his lover was playing. He believed he was being playful and seductive, yet he was so far off the mark, it was laughable.

“Here,” Nick smiled, slipping Duncan a note. “Go get yourself another… I want to watch your mouth work and imagine what you’re going to do to me later,” he lied, patting Duncan on his doughy little rear. “Then, when we get home, I’m going to pull out the whipped cream and make you lick it all off me!”

Duncan raised his eyebrows and smiled with excitement. Then, off he went to do as he was told, nursing his own semi at the same time.

It was only in the pictures from that day that Nick really noticed how well Duncan’s double chin was starting to come in. Duncan had never exactly been on a par with him, looks-wise. But with the arrival of the chin and the bloated middle, at last Nick felt like he was dating a real chub once more, sending his arousal into overdrive. He found more and more cunning ways to ensure Duncan continued to overeat and, as the holidays arrived, Duncan had let himself go even more than Nick had ever expected. Suddenly, all those sweatpants Nick had quietly been adding to Duncan’s wardrobe began paying off; the larger shirts and cute underwear that would have been far too big for the guy back when they first got together.

“I’m thinking of asking Duncan to move in with me,” Nick explained to his parents one evening. This wasn’t the sort of life decision he usually made with his parents, but considering how much they were into this relationship, their support was bound to come with a nice big cheque for something or other.

Nick’s mother breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s wonderful news!” she beamed. “I thought you were going to tell us something else then!” she laughed, looking across at Nick’s dad.

“Like what?” Nick asked, curious.

“I thought you were about to tell us that it was all over between you both!” she chuckled, still looking nothing but relieved. “We noticed that Duncan’s put on a few pounds recently and we thought… Uh oh! Nick’s not going to be happy about that.”

“You thought I would finish with Duncan just because he’s gained a few pounds?” Nick asked, realising just how little his parents actually understood him. How many of his chubby boyfriends had they met in the past? “You really think I’m that shallow?” he asked, pretending to feel hurt. That was, until his parents finally offered to consider buying one of the new condos by the river for Nick and Duncan to live in together; so much more convenient than the poky little apartment Nick was in right now.

The chubs were shocked when Nick told them his plans. Adam, in particular, thought he was taking things too far. Sure, Nick had some fun fattening up his boyfriend when they were dating, but moving in with Duncanwould be entirely different. Now he would be able to manipulate everything that Duncan ate all day and all night long. And, from the horny way that Nick spoke about it, it was clear that he was going to take advantage of every opportunity that came his way.

“You really sneak all this stuff into his food?” Adam asked, gazing at the hidden supplies in the cupboard.

“Pretty much,” Nick nodded, smiling as he looked around his new kitchen. “Have you seen these?” he asked, picking up a pair of Ducan’s freshly washed work pants from the laundry basket. “Thirty eight inch waist already!”

“I’m guessing these are his as well?” Martin asked, picking up a jock strap.

“Absolutely!” Nick laughed. “You should see the way they cut into the little pig’s love handles! It never fails to make me explode!”

“Jeez! Look at all this shit!” Ben cried as he opened the refrigerator.

Nick’s face lit up again and his eyes twinkled with devilment as Ben pulled out one fattening product and ingredient after another. “Fat boy is living the dream, right?” he smiled. “And check out this!” he blasted, opening the freezer drawer and extracting a giant tub of ice cream. “Liquid gold, this stuff!” he joked. “The pig can’t resist it and it puts weight on him like nothing else. You wait until you see him. He’s like you, Adam. A similar sort of shape when you started getting fat; a tight, stout little belly. And his face! Oh my goodness! It’s just suddenly started looking chubby as fuck! Do you remember when it happened to you, Martin? Your face and cheeks seemed to just blow up? In less than a week you looked totally different. It’s exactly the same with Duncan right now.”

The chubs all looked at each other. Nick had been there during each one of their initial forays into gaining, and he was the reason why each of them continued to relish putting on more and more weight, even now.

“So this is where the magic happens?” Ian asked, as he was led into Nick and Duncan’s new bedroom.

Nick shook his head and laughed. “The magic happens wherever I want it to happen,” he boasted. “We may have only been here four weeks, but there’s no room or flat surface I haven’t fucked my little piggy on.”

The chubs all pulled a face, pretending to be repulsed by Nick’s crudeness, despite the arousal that they actually felt. Each one of them had been fucked and fed by him during their time. That was, before Duncan came along.

By the time Duncan arrived home from work, there was a wealth of take out on offer in the lounge, with Nick standing up brightly to greet his lover whilst the four chubby guys were draped over the sofas like bloated seals. After hugging him, Nick stood back and allowed the eyes of the chubs to check Duncan out. He could see their eyes wandering to exactly where he wanted: Duncan’s chubby chin, his pot belly and broader butt. How exciting it was to show him off like this! Nick fussed about him, fetching him a plate and a cool beer whilst he settled down with the other boys.

Grazing was one of Duncan’s weaknesses. A large buffet dinner like this always resulted in him eating more than usual. Even as the pizzas and chicken pieces went cool, the boy was still nibbling away as he chatted. He slipped off his tie and supped on the beer until a little opening formed between the buttons on his shirt, a tight bloat starting to take hold of his portly stomach.

“I’m hoping I can pull a few strings and get Duncan a new job with one of my friends,” Nick commented next, as Duncan began complaining about his boss. “He works so hard and just gets more and more responsibilities piled on top of him without any extra pay. It’s not fair.”

“I’ve got my fingers crossed,” Duncan nodded in agreement. “A new job would be so handy right now. As much as I like being able to walk to work, I think I’m ready for a change.”

The chubs all eyed Nick knowingly. Was this yet another cunning way to ensure that Duncan got the least amount of exercise possible? Back in the early days, Nick had manipulated all their lifestyles in a similar fashion, and their waistlines had rapidly paid the price. It burned the question in all their minds: Just how much further could Nick take this gain?

“You’ve been to the gym already?” Duncan asked a couple of weeks later as he groggily rubbed his eyes one Saturday morning.

“Of course I have,” Nick smiled, pumping his bicep. “It was chest day. You know that’s my favorite!” he winked, ripping off his compression shirt and throwing his muscular body down onto the bed with his now easily 240lb boyfriend. He kissed him keenly until he could feel Duncan really getting into it. That was the moment he pulled out. “I’m going to make you some breakfast,” he teased,” reaching his hand onto the boy’s wider rear, “then I’m going to fuck you silly…” he growled.

“Does it have to be in that specific order?” Duncan smiled back, throwing his leg over and spreading his naked butt so temptingly, as if he didn’t understand how, these days, his oversized, wobbly glutes would have put most guys off. Duncan was not the cute little thing he used to be.

Nick growled in lust, sliding his hand onto the boy’s butt and slapped it playfully, watching the fresh blubber ripple. “Breakfast first,” he smiled, resisting temptation, jumping back up energetically to start frying things up for his underexercised lover.

A few weeks later, Nick’s buddy, Martin, had met him in town for lunch. Ever since the pair had dated in high school, the guy had slowly been swelling up fatter and fatter. After understanding their shared attraction to weight gain, Nick had been the one to draw it out of him, with those initial sixty pounds being down to his own hard work and dedication to the cause. It was where Nick had learned his craft as a feeder; utilising the knowledge he had acwuired with the many, many gainers he had fattened up since.

Despite Martin’s athletic beginnings on the football team, there was not a trace of it left any longer. The guy was surprisingly pear shaped and soft all over; with every part of him coated in blubber. Martin had hit three hundred and fifty pounds last year and was still continuing to balloon up with the help of several other feeders Nick had sent his way. As usual, he was wearing clothes that appeared far too tight; his drooping stomach starting to show itself underneath his too-short t-shirt. Nick enjoyed standing back and watching the looks his friend got as they walked around together; his very favourite hobby.

“You know, I almost forgot how much I LOVE a giant fat ass on a guy,” Nick rambled as the pair of them walked to a free bench at the park. “Duncan had almost no ass at all when I asked him out. Then it started getting nice and peachy, and I thought I was so turned on by it; like my dick was never going to be flaccid ever again! But now…” he swooned, turned on just to be saying these things aloud. “...Now it’s properly FAT! Like two doughy mounds of lard! You should see the way it jiggles and moves; how wide it’s getting and how it’s spreading out! Fuck, man!”

“Hence the doughnuts,” Martin chuckled, motioning to the little bag of premium treats Nick had just picked up to take home with him later. “You do realise there are a lot more calories in the regular ones Duncan eats?” he reminded his friend.

Nick shrugged. “Duncan tends to prefer these ones. I know they’re a lot more expensive, but my little fat ass is definitely worth it,” he laughed.

“So it’s finally happened then!” Martin smirked, breathing a sigh of relief as they made it to the bench. “I never got expensive treats like those when we dated. You’re so fucked now, you know that, right?”

Nick turned in surprise. “Fucked?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “Because I spent extra money on donuts?”

“I’ve seen this coming for months. The way you are around Duncan; finishing his sentences and fussing after him. You’ve properly fallen in love, haven’t you? Nick Bowlins: the feeder with a heart of stone, has actually fallen for one of his fatties!”

Nick shook his head. “No. It’s not like that at all!” he shot back, surprisingly offended by the idea. “I know this isn’t a long-term thing. I’ve been secretly fattening him for months waiting until he finally realises and dumps me. I headed into this with realistic expectations.”

“And that’s what makes this all the more tragic,” Martin laughed. “You’ve schemed yourself into a corner. You even pulled all those strings to make sure your friend got him that new job. You’ve played your games and ensured he piles on the weight, but you know he’ll never forgive you once he figures it all out. And when that happens, he’s going to break your little heart.”

“I’m not discussing this,” Nick stated, standing up and checking his watch for the time.

“Ouch! I’ve touched a nerve!” Martin sang with delight. “This is pure karma you realise? Secretly fatten up your boyfriend’s ass and you’re going to end up getting bitten on yours!”

Nick rolled his eyes and started walking off. He hated how jealous Martin was these days, now that they didn’t casually fuck like they used to. Although Nick hadn’t entered into a relationship with Duncan with the intention of staying monogamous, that was exactly what had happened. He just hadn’t wanted to be with anyone else. So, how would he feel when all this was over? Because Martin was right about one thing: this whole relationship was definitely heading for an inevitable conclusion. Maybe Nick would be the one who came off worse.

“You know I love you, right?” Nick asked, cuddling Duncan extra tight as he spooned him in bed the next morning.

Duncan chuckled softly and rubbed Nick’s strong arms that held him so firmly. “I know,” he replied, smiling happily. “I love you too.”

Despite the raging hard-on Nick had, pressed up against Duncan’s soft glutes, he tried his best to resist heading straight to sex and just enjoyed the moment. Who knew how many more mornings like this they had together?

“I’m heading for a shower if you want to join?” Duncan asked, slipping out from under the covers and standing there naked. His blubbery body was so intoxicating. Nick hadn’t been able to resist spoiling him with take-out last night and, as a result, the guy’s nipples finally looked like they were ready to start the eventual droop onto that rounded little gut that was swelling out of him. Was the guy really so oblivious that he didn’t realise how overweight he was getting? Did he really not know that, to the average person, his lardy physique was never going to entice anyone the way he was now trying to entice Nick to follow him into the shower. Bounce, bounce, bounce went those overfilled glutes as he strutted out, confident that Nick would follow; the jiggle of fat in his love handles surprisingly out of sync with the rest of his body. But Nick was so hard; his devious brain having already concocted several ways he could ensure Duncan was gorged on calories all day long. He simply wouldn’t be able to stop himself, even if he tried.

“Wait for me!” he called out, throwing the covers off and following the little piglet into the bathroom.

Many of the strategies Nick had employed to increase Duncan’s weight in the early days were now thoroughly ingrained and trained into him. Nick sat back and watched the naive boy guzzle down his breakfast and then mindlessly wander around the kitchen cupboards for snacks. The boy’s life had been so ridiculously food focused for months now, he initiated his own conversations about where they should go for lunch and talked excitedly about the little bakeries and food places they could stop at along the way. Nick almost wished that he would stop; his dick swelling with blood each and every time Duncan’s well developed greed reared its ugly head in their conversations.

“You’re starting to look like your father!” Duncan’s mother grumbled as they called in one afternoon; her son’s stomach surprisingly rounded and bloated after the sushi lunch he had insisted upon.

Right before Duncan’s dad had taken up with another woman and moved to New York about seven years ago, an eighteen year old Nick had developed the biggest crush on him: the fattest man in their neighborhood. Since then, Duncan’s mother had bitterly sworn off men and neither she, nor Duncan, had had any contact with him since. But the comparison with Duncan’s father now made Nick’s heart race as he took in just how justified it was. Ducan did indeed carry all the weight in the same way; his stomach and butt pushing outwards in completely the opposite directions. 

Duncan rolled his eyes, shielded from all the criticism by the many false and exaggerated compliments Nick had filled his head with for almost eighteen months now. “Did you notice that tiny little portion mom gave me?” he complained as they both got back into the car after staying for dinner. “I think she’s trying to put me on a diet herself!”

The pair of them laughed and waved as they pulled out of the driveway.

“You don’t think I’ve gotten too fat do you?” Duncan asked, clearly second guessing himself after the visit.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” Nick growled, swerving the question and pulling Duncan’s hand onto his erection, as if providing evidence to that effect. He’d planned for them both to stop at his own folks’ place before heading home, but his arousal had got the better of him. He felt an ache in his balls and needed to get his fat boy back as soon as possible.

“Can we order Mexican tonight?” Duncan asked; his greedy mind still hijacked by thoughts of food.

“We’ll get you whatever you want,” Nick smiled back, taking one hand from the wheel to rub his lover’s chubby thigh. Oh, how he loved this boy!

Over the following months, Nick’s usual compliments started sounding more and more ironic. He still lamented about Duncan’s butt, calling it ‘cute’ and ‘pert’ like he always had, despite the monstrous width and shape it had developed. He referred to Duncan as his ‘pretty boy’ even though the chubby cheeks had enveloped many of his old facial features and the double chin had robbed him of a jawline for quite some time. Time and time again, he made note of Duncan’s strength and manly physique, even as the pounds and pounds of blubber encased his upper arms and surged into his nipples, making them bounce as he walked. It was almost amusing that Duncan still believed each and every one of them. Then again, was it a lie when Nick really meant what he said? Big and bloated as it was, Duncan’s butt was still the cutest thing Nick had ever seen. Sure, the boy’s face was round and plump, but did that mean he wasn’t pretty anymore? Definitely not!

“I can’t believe you’re still getting away with this shit!” laughed Adam as they all met up for a meal at a fancy buffet restaurant closer to the holidays. Duncan’s gut had swollen significantly since many of the boys had seen him last summer; all of them gazing at the boy from the table as he greedily trotted around the dishes on offer. “I have to hand it to you. I never thought you would get this far with him.”

Nick nodded and smiled, but didn’t feel the need to comment.

“What is he now?” Ben asked, inspecting Duncan’s broad rear as he turned around. “Two-eighty?”

“No way! That’s a three hundred pounder if ever I’ve seen one!” Ian jumped in, laughing when Duncan’s shirt came untucked as he hungrily reached over to pick up some garlic bread.

Nick nodded once again, silently wishing for Duncan to hurry back to the table and end this speculation. All it would take would be for one of them to say something too loudly and Duncan would overhear. Then the entire house of cards would come crashing down.

The chubs all seemed to notice Nick’s silence and they looked at each other in confusion. Where had that wicked, boastful feeder they all knew so well gone?

“Leave him be, boys,” Martin whispered to the others. He probably knew, just as well as the rest did, that this was likely Nick and Duncan’s last holiday season together. 

The chair squeaked as Duncan sat himself down again. His plate was piled high; the food glistening with grease and butter. He reached for his knife and fork. Since when had his hands become so chubby and full; his fingers swelling like short little sausages.

“Nick wants to take me away on a cruise next year,” Duncan told the boys later on as the conversation progressed. “Somewhere warm so that we can just lie by the pool and enjoy some drinks in the sun.” “How lovely!” Adam grinned. “All those fantastic restaurants to visit throughout the day; all that delicious food…” he smirked, looking over in Nick’s direction. “What a thoughtful boyfriend you have!”

Nick felt more uncomfortable than ever, wriggling in his seat. In truth, he’d drifted away from the boys for just this reason, knowing that these subtle little comments about his feeder intentions were one day going to land in Duncan’s mind. Then, everything would unravel. “I just thought it would be nice,” he replied softly, rubbing his lover’s bulging thigh under the table.

“That’s what everyone always says about you,” Ben agreed sarcastically. “Nick Bowlins: a real ‘nice’ guy!” he winked.

Nick swallowed hard and forcefully steered the conversation in an entirely new direction. He felt so grateful as the evening ended and it was just him and Duncan back in the car, heading back home.

“I think I’ve still got some of that nice ice cream left in the freezer,” Duncan pondered, despite how much he had consumed that evening. “I’ll have it when I get home.”

Once again, Nick’s erection sprang to life, despite the guilt he felt. For the first time, he wished that his brain wasn’t wired the way it was. Why did he have to get off on how greedy and well trained his boyfriend had become to eat everything he provided? Why couldn’t he just be normal, like everyone else? Why did this secret have to loom over them like a dark, angry cloud?

The rain was falling hard as they made it back to the apartment block that evening, both of them running from the parking lot to the front entrance. A large man stood outside, looking drenched and miserable as he tried in vain to get a response on the intercom to one of the apartments upstairs.

“Can I help you?” Nick asked, letting the man come into the main hallway and out of the downpour.

The man lowered his hood and breathed out, rubbing his fat face and beard,soaked from the rain. Nick recognised him immediately and he could tell from the way that Duncan took a step back that he had just had the shock of his life. There, standing before them both was Duncan’s long estranged father.

“Your aunt said it was a nice apartment you have,” the big man beamed as he followed them both upstairs a few minutes later. “I have to say, she was absolutely right! This was all just wasteland when I was last in town.”

Nicked fetched the man a towel and took his jacket off. Although it had been many years since he had seen Duncan’s father, Eddie, he was surprised at how impressively large the man had become in that time, easily close to being five hundred pounds, if not more.

“What do you want?” Duncan asked, sitting himself down on the couch. “Why show up here after all this time? Is Michelle not with you?”

“Michelle’s at home in New York,” Eddie replied, referring to the woman he had left Duncan’s mother to be with. “I always miss you more around the holidays. Now you’ve moved out of your mom’s place, I thought maybe I could finally summon up the courage to come and see you.” The man looked over at his son and smiled. It had been years since he had seen him. Duncan had been nothing more than a scrawny teenager the last time they had been in the same room together. “You look well,” he nodded. “I always thought you’d end up looking more like me than your mother,” he smiled, patting his own large belly.

An awkward silence fell upon the room. After over seven years of estrangement, was Duncan’s dad really calling him fat within the first five minutes? Tact was clearly not his specialty.

“Your aunt tells me you two have been together for over two years now?” he asked next. “You must be very happy.”

Again, the silence was deafening. Nick began to feel sorry for the man as Duncan’s hostility endured.

“Why did you have to move to New York?” Duncan finally asked; blocking whatever path his father was trying to steer the conversation.

Eddie nodded his head, accepting that the question was a good one. “Because I fell in love,” he answered. “Michelle and I… we’re just made for each other. Sure, it’s not a conventional pairing… A bit like you two,” he pointed at them both, appearing to be gesturing towards their two contrasting bodies. “But we’re very happy together.”

The cogs in Nick’s brain began to turn. 

“Your mom was always getting at me for my weight,” Eddie went on. “We were never happy. That was all just an act for your sake. But I think you knew that, didn’t you?” he smiled sweetly at Duncan. “I tried to explain to your mom that this is who I am,” he nodded, grabbing a handful of the fat that encircled his waist. “But she wouldn’t have it. She made my life hell. Then I met Michelle online and… well, as you know. Everything changed.”

Nick had a thousand questions burning in his head. He fought back the urge to jump in and ask them all at once, merely rubbing Duncan’s back supportively from behind the couch.

“Your mom threatened to tell you everything unless I stayed away. She’d hired a private investigator and had endless messages, pictures and transcripts between me and Michelle. I didn’t want you to see any of that. Your mom made it clear that she thought the things Michelle and I were into were just perverted. She didn’t understand the eating and the weight gain and how intrinsic it all is to my happiness.”

Nick tried not to react. Was Duncan’s father really coming out as a… a gainer?

“I thought, maybe now that you’re in your own similar relationship, that you might understand,” Eddie finished, looking at them both.

Nick’s eyes bulged and he stood up straighter; his heart pounding. He’d imagined many scenarios where he would be outed as a feeder, but being called out by Duncan’s absentee father had not been one of them. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he mumbled shakily.

Eddie chuckled. “Oh, come on… it’s obvious!” he motioned again at their extreme size difference. “Duncan’s aunt told me all about you two. You’re the one who fattened up Pete and Shirley’s boy, Martin, back when you were in high school together,” Eddie stated directly to Nick. “I heard he’s a real porker these days! ‘As fat as butter’ my sister said!”

Duncan turned his head to look at Nick, standing behind him, his eyebrows lowered in confusion. Nick was utterly speechless.

“Now, I’m not sure there are many fathers who would approve of their son dating a feeder,” Eddie nodded. “But, in this case, I’ve got to say… I know you two will be really happy together.”

Duncan and Nick both looked across at Eddie. The man was still blissfully unaware of the wrecking ball he had just taken to their relationship.

“I’m staying at the Palace Hotel,” Eddie stated as he grunted and got up from his seat. “Perhaps we could all meet up for some lunch tomorrow?”

Again, silence was the only response. He pulled out a contact card and dropped it on the coffee table.

“It really is good to see you again,” he smiled at Duncan as Nick followed him to the door and closed it behind him.

“Duncan…” Nick began, the moment they were alone again. “That was… I’m not sure your dad has all the facts about… I’m not really…” he mumbled, starting and restarting his sentences again and again. “Are you alright?” he finally offered sweetly.

Duncan inhaled and seemed to pull himself out of his stunned silence. “Well, I guess everything makes a lot more sense now,” he nodded pragmatically. “With dad… With you.”

Nick’s heart was racing. He thought of several things he could say in response, all of them lies and excuses. No. The game was up.

“So I guess that’s the reason why I’m like this,” Duncan sighed, raising his arms up to his chest and looking down at his fattened body, as if for the first time. “I just thought I was going mad. Two hundred and ninety six pounds. That’s what I was when I weighed myself the other day. Can you believe that?”

“I never meant for things to go this far,” Nick replied honestly.

“Nor did I,” Duncan agreed, rubbing his stout belly sadly.

“You don’t have to be this way,” Nick shot back. “We can put you on a diet. I’d love you however you looked. Just give me a chance and let me prove it!”

“I think it’s too late for that, don’t you?” Duncan grumbled, still holding his enlarged stomach. “My dad’s right. I’ve always been more like him than my mom.”

“How do you mean?” Nick asked, wondering just how long it would be until Duncan kicked him out. Where the hell was he going to sleep tonight?

“I love food. I love eating. I love this…” he emphasised, leaning a little forwards and grabbing his gut with both hands, shaking it. “I just didn’t understand why.”

Nick’s heart skipped a beat. “You seriously don’t mind?” he asked in astonishment.

“I thought you were so sweet for not nagging me about my weight when I first started getting chubby. But I guess I understand now. It all makes sense.”

Nick cringed. He felt that things still rested on a knife edge. He didn’t want to open his mouth and say the wrong thing; simultaneously destroying everything. 

“So, this is your thing, huh?” Duncan asked, lifting his shirt and patting the large belly he had developed over the last two years. “I suppose I always was a prime target for a feeder, knowing how large my dad is. I guess weight gain is just in the genes. You must have known that.”

“That wasn’t why I started dating you,” Nick replied quickly. “And your weight isn’t the reason why I fell in love with you either.”

“Well, you’re a better man than me then,” Duncan chuckled. “Because the way you used to cook and overfeed me definitely played a part in the reason why I fell for you so badly!”

The pair looked at each other with very small smiles threatening to invade from the furthest corners of their mouths.

“I guess we’re both just a couple of freaks,” Duncan finally laughed. He patted the space next to him on the couch and Nick finally came to sit next to him. The most honest conversation of their lives was about to begin.

“Surprise!” shouted the crowds of people as Duncan and Nick walked into the restaurant a few months later. Everyone was there: the chubs, the two families, Duncan’s father and Michelle; all stood underneath a banner congratulating them on their engagement. The pair of them laughed, pretending that they hadn’t already worked out what was happening, strolling in to greet them all.

“So you’re finally going to make an honest fatty out of this one?” Martin joked quietly as he came up to the pair of them later that evening.

Nick nodded, his hand resting sweetly on Duncan’s large butt as the boy stood, eating his third plateful from the buffet. He rubbed and patted gently, knowing that Duncan always ate better when his size was being admired. The boy had been fattening faster than ever since the pair of them had been open and honest about things. With such an enormous double chin, Duncan even looked larger than Martin himself.

“How was the cruise?” Martin askes next, not having seen the pair of them since they made it home, freshly engaged last weekend.

Duncan and Nick giggled to each other, remembering all the kinky things they had got up to together. “It was very good, thanks,” Nick finally replied, rubbing Duncan’s giant stomach as if to show that the pair of them had stuffed Duncan’s gut for the entire two weeks. They’d even had to buy a new shirt especially for the party that evening.

“Yeah, it was great,” Duncan mumbled through a mouthful of food. “Now we’re just looking forward to the wedding.”

A surge of excitement spread through Nick as he thought about the wedding. His large hand couldn’t resist squeezing Duncan’s blubbery glute as he pictured how much fatter his fiance would be by then.

“Well, it’s unconventional, but it clearly works for you two,” Martin smiled, looking on at his very good friends who clearly only had eyes for each other. Sure, the world had lost one of its most devilish and enterprising feeders, but look at how happy he was with his fat boy. Look at how happy they both were! 

The whispers behind their backs could continue, the justified comparisons between Nick and Eddie’s feeder wife could go on and on. Duncan’s mother could regret the day she’d ever agreed to let her friend coax her into setting up Duncan with her son. But none of them could deny that this was something very special indeed. The glasses were raised, the toasts were made and the sentiment was real. A long and happy marriage was wished upon them both. Nick and Duncan, forever more.

[copperbadge]

I wanted to thank you for running RFM for so long.

And as we wind down to the end of the year (and the era), I want to ask if there's anything the Tumblr community could do to thank you for the effort you've put into this over the years.

Is there a charity or cause that you support that we could contribute to or other action we could take?

Aw, thank you for asking!

If you want a specific place to give, there are a couple of nonprofits I support. The Anti-Cruelty Society where I got the cryptids is local to Chicago and BAGLY is a queer youth nonprofit local to Boston; you can also give to United Way either locally or nationally, to Planned Parenthood, or to the American Library Association, currently fighting the good fight against censorship. I know people working for all of these orgs and your support means a lot to them. You can also give to my Ko-Fi marked "for donation" and I will give in a lump sum to the org I work for, which funds research into terminal lung disease and outreach to patients suffering from it.

But honestly, I hope the most long-lasting legacy of RFM is that people think consciously about caring for one another and about being kind and compassionate even if you feel judgement for the person asking. Over the years I found myself judging people sometimes when they asked for help, and I had to make a policy that I would not only share their link but publicly defend their right to ask, if necessary, because I am not infallible and nobody else is either. It is not for us to determine who can ask, only who we answer.

I've been on a campaign for about a decade to persuade people that while some nonprofits are indeed not great places to give your money, you should approach giving in the spirit of trust. When we buy something -- say, a box of pasta -- we trust that what the box says is inside actually is inside. When we buy a wool sweater we trust it truly is wool unless we have reason to believe otherwise. We look at the box or the label, we do our due diligence, but we don't automatically assume we are being lied to. If you give to a nonprofit, by all means, read the website, maybe do a quick google about them, but trust that most people who work in this field, which is underpaid and full of burnout, are doing their best to help the world. Find a nonprofit you really like the look of and treat it like starting a new friendship -- get to know them, read about what they do, if they have events, especially free events, maybe go to one and have a look around.

But yeah -- that's what I hope lasts, the idea that giving is an act of community and that the spirit in which you give matters, not whether or not you did the most good in the most moral way.

[katiascraft]

“am I too much for you? maybe I’m too much for everyone” | CL16

parings: Charles Leclerc x insecure!reader

summary: you feel insecure and you’re struggling but Charles makes sure you know how important you are to the world (specially his world).

now playing: “If I weren’t me” by Katherine Li

warnings: not English native speaker could there be errors. None proofread. Talk about sadness and destructive inner talk. Insecure reader. Readers pov’s.

words: +1,5k words.

a/n: heyyyy I am back!!! I disappeared for a year 💀 consistency it’s not my thing I guess. I’m finally finishing university this year!! So I guess I’ll have more time to write. Hope you like it! First on Charles. New obsession: F1 drivers. Get ready I got plenty more on my plans :p. Remember to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3

MASTERLIST

The piano tiles made the sound of the soundtrack of my sadness in this moment. My fingers touched them softly like they were fragile - like me.

Today was a nightmare from the start. Since I woke up I had a knot in my stomach that became bigger and bigger as the time passed through my routine. Sometimes itʼs really hard for me to do daily tasks such as cleaning or even eating. And it was harder if I need to go to events or meetings.

I have episodes of deep sadness Iʼve been treating on therapy. Sometimes I just canʼt control it. Today was one of those days where black and grey took over everything I felt and did. One way I found by being suggested by my therapist was writing down every thought of pain to find kind of a relief. Today itʼs really hard. Iʼm struggling really hard.

Iʼve been alone the whole day. Charles had to go to the Ferrari factory and do his driver tasks as usual. When I woke up he was gone. And maybe that contributed even more to my desperate and pathetic situation. Though I shouldnʼt talk about it like that and be more gentle with myself. It always felt to me negativity has always been my best friend and worst enemy at the same time.

Playing piano helped me so much. Write a song about my pain. Try to give a little light to all of this mess I find myself emerged in. Itʼs really hard for me to open up and seek help when I need it. Specially when it comes to Charles. I donʼt wanna be a burden to him. And I donʼt wanna stress him out with all of my dark side. I always try to brush it off when heʼs around. Most times I just pretend Iʼm happy and everything itʼs alright. As if I wasnʼt feeling too much for him. Or too less. Like Iʼm not worth of his love. Of his attention. Of his smiles. Of everything he did for me.

The fact that Charles asked me out had me shocked. Iʼve never felt like I could compete with all the models and influencers and singers and every really beautiful girl in this world. Iʼve never felt beautiful nor attractive. Yes Iʼm pretty good making jokes. And I talk too much. But Iʼve always felt I cringed people out. Dating people wasnʼt a thing I was really good at. Actually I sucked. And I think I still do. Always overthinking and second guessing every move. Every promise. Everything.

Charles was so sweet to me. He said “youʼre beautiful. Iʼm sure people tell you all the time. But you really areˮ. I couldnʼt help but get really nervous and blush. The most beautiful man Iʼve ever seen was talking to me and saying all of that. I blinked a couple of times. My smile huge. I just laughed softly trying to brush it off.

Since then we became a team. Inseparable. Charles became my best friend. My rock. I donʼt know what I ever did to deserve his love. The way he loved me was so gentle. So caring and loving. At first was hard because his love language was physical touch and that was something I wasnʼt used to. But little by little I got used to and felt amazing. Iʼve never felt so comfortable with anyone but him.

I hate my body. I feel ashamed of my personality. Most times I feel so dumb. So stupid.

I didnʼt realized I was already crying when I felt my tears dropping in my hands on the piano. I didnʼt realized I kept playing in auto-mode. When I was conscious again I started crying badly. I started shaking. I felt so bad. So guilty for even feeling this way. I didnʼt realized Charles have arrived home when I felt his deep voice from behind.

“Baby... whatʼs wrong? Youʼve been crying for a whileˮ I heard his voice and that sent shivers down my spine. I try to hold it together because I feel so embarrassed heʼs seeing me like this.

He sat next to me and hugged me. I hid my face on his neck feeling contempt. Thing is I started crying worse. I couldnʼt control it once it took on me.

“Itʼs okay baby. Itʼs okay.ˮ He whispered on my head while he stroke my hair and my arm pulling me closer. I thanked him mentally for this. I never thought I needed it so much.

Took a while until I calmed myself in his body. I part from him slowly and whipped my face with my hands. After I did he did the same. He whipped my tears so gently. He did the same looking me with bright eyes. Worry was all over his face. I licked my lips. “Iʼm sorry.ˮ I said quietly almost a whisper.

He denided with his head taking my head into his hands and stroked it softly.

“donʼt be sorry baby. Iʼm worried. Whatʼs wrong? Iʼm sorry I wasnʼt home to be with you. Why didnʼt you called me?ˮ I could feel the worry in his voice deep and cracking.

“I didnʼt want to bother to be honest. Itʼs one of those days. A really hard dayˮ my tears wanted to go out again but I holded them.

I saw his eyes turned into a sad look. He leaned on me and kissed my cheek to hugged me strongly in his arms afterwards. I buried my head in his shoulder. His smell calmed me down. I holded him pretty close to me. Strongly as him. I didnʼt want to let go.

“do you wanna talk about what you are feeling love?ˮ He whispered softly. I swallowed hard and pulled away from his so I could look into his beautiful eyes. I loved his eyes. So bright so blue sometimes. To me they felt like staring at the ocean. I stroked his face gently. He grabbed my legs on the little couch in front of the piano it our living room.

“This is one of those days where I donʼt feel enough or maybe too much to handle... all of this darkness in me that sometimes I just canʼt control it. You deserve someone confident and happy just like youˮ I told him softly and honestly. And it felt good to take it out of me for finally. I wanted to cry again but I was making my best efforts to keep it together.

“Cher... you are more than enough for me. You are the most beautiful soul Iʼve ever met. The most beautiful woman Iʼve ever seen. You are the sweetest most caring and fun person. Always there for people. You have the brightest personality. Every time you enter a room you shine. Everyone smiles. To me youʼre happiness though I know that isnʼt the whole you. Youʼre human baby. You are allowed to feel. And to not be okay. And to be okay too. You are not a burden for me. Youʼre my best friend. Mon amour. My future wife. The one whoʼs always there for me. My shoulder to cry on. The one with the greatest jokes. The life of every party I assist. You give a meaning to my life. A reason to live. You are a great daughter. The best friend someone could ask for. The greatest sister. You are a light for every single person that knows you y/n. Donʼt ever feel that you are too much to handle. And I really wanna go and kill the people who made you ever feel you were, I sware. You are amazing baby.ˮ While he was talking you couldnʼt hold it together. You just started crying. He let you do it while he whipped your tears lovingly. He seeing you like this broke his heart. You didnʼt deserve to feel like this. And he wished he could take away all of your pain. That you could see yourself the way he sees you. And feel how happy and enamoured you made him feel. “You can talk to me every time you need itˮ he continued. “you can trust me and we can figure it out together. You donʼt have to go through it alone. Okay? I love you with everything I am y/n. If I could I would take all of this pain away and just make you feel how I feel about you. I promise to me youʼre even better than Carlosˮ he said lastly jokingly making me laugh through my crying.

Now he had a huge smile on his face knowing he could make you feel better. I gave him a peck on his lips as a thank you and as an I love you.

“I donʼt know what I would do without you Charles...ˮ I said sincerely and full of love in between the lines. He gave another kiss back but now it was deeper in feelings. We kissed for a while and it felt that as the kiss continued my pain was going away feeling better every second. After the kissed I hugged him tightly. He gave kisses to my neck making me giggle a little. “I love you Charlie. Youʼre my angelˮ I whispered on his shoulder and he tightened the hug in response.

“And you are mine chérie“ he said burying his face on my shoulder.

——————————————————————————————

Charlie won COTA 🥹.

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have ideas my inbox is open for requests!

[jaeyunluvbot]

ceilings

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, college au, mark lee x fem!reader,

word count 𝟅𝟈 4.1k

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You sit cross-legged on the couch in your dorm, a half-empty mug of coffee going cold on the table in front of you. Your laptop is open, the beginnings of a lesson plan appearing on the screen. Across the room, Mark is sprawled in your beanbag chair, a stack of notebooks and his own laptop scattered haphazardly around him.

“Remind me why you picked education again?” he teases, spinning a pen between his fingers.

“Because I like helping people,” you say without looking up. “Unlike you, who’s clearly just here to take up space.”

Mark laughs, the sound comforting and familiar. “Yikes. I’m just saying, you’ve been staring at that screen for, like, two hours. Are you actually working, or just writing your name in different fonts?”

You roll your eyes, finally glancing over at him. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of slacking off, Mr. Communications Major.”

“Hey, excuse you,” Mark says, sitting up a little. “I’m a communications major with a business minor. Very serious stuff.”

“Right,” you deadpan. “I’m sure the world is just desperate for your next paper on influencer marketing.”

He grins, leaning back again. “You know it.”

The conversation feels like a warm blanket, familiar and comforting. You’ve been best friends with Mark since third grade, and moments like this remind you why. No matter what life throws your way, he’s always been there—ready with a joke, a smile, or a friday-night movie marathon.

Still, lately, things have felt off… different. You hesitate, tapping your fingers on the edge of your laptop.

“Mark?”

“Hmm?” he says, not looking up from the YouTube video he’s somehow roped into his “studying.”

“You know Jaemin, right? From my educational psych class?”

Mark pauses the video, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah, I know him. Why?”

“Well…” you trail off, suddenly not sure if you should tell him. “He asked me out yesterday.”

Mark doesn’t react immediately, his face carefully neutral. “Oh. What’d you say?”

“I said yes.”

Mark’s jaw tightens imperceptibly before he nods, forcing a smile. “That’s cool. Jaemin’s… cool.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, a little too quickly. “He’s nice. And, you know, he’s on the soccer team. Everyone loves a soccer guy.”

You tilt your head, watching him cautiously. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Mark argues, shifting his position to cover his fidgeting. “I’m happy for you, Y/N. Really, I am.”

You squint at him, unconvinced, but let it go. “Cool.”

The rest of the evening passes in a strange kind of silence. Mark cracks a few jokes here and there, but the usual ease between you feels just a little strained.

Later that night, as you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, the soft whirring of your fan lulling you into a tired state, you can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted. But what—and why—you can’t quite figure out.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A month later, you and Mark find yourselves in your favorite spot off-campus, a cozy little café that’s been your special place since freshman year. You’re sitting by the window, sipping a caramel latte and doodling on a napkin while Mark devours a bagel like it’s his last meal.

“I’m just saying,” he says between bites, crumbs and seeds scattering all over the table, “professors shouldn’t assign group projects if they know people like Yuta exist.”

“Not this again,” you groan, half-laughing. “What did he do this time?”

“What didn’t he do?” Mark gestures dramatically. “He wrote a single sentence and called it his ‘contribution.’ I’m carrying this guy through college, Y/N.”

“Maybe he’s just shy,” you suggest, smiling at your best friend’s complaints.

Mark shakes his head, pointing at you with a crumb-covered finger. “No, no. Shy people at least pretend to help. Yuta just disappears.”

You laugh, the sound bright against the low hum of the café. Moments like this remind you why Mark is your favorite person.

Which makes your next suggestion seem obvious—at least to you.

“You know,” you say, swirling your spoon in your cup, “you should hang out with Jaemin.”

Mark freezes mid-chew, his eyes widening slightly. “What?”

“You and Jaemin,” you repeat. “I feel like you’d get along. You’re both funny and laid-back, and you like soccer.”

“I don’t like soccer,” Mark says flatly.

“You played soccer in high school,” you counter.

“Because my mom made me,” he argues, setting his muffin down. “And no offense, but I don’t think me and Jaemin would get along.”

“How do you know?” you challenge, leaning forward. “You’ve never hung out with him. He’s really nice, Mark.”

Mark’s expression shifts, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “I’m sure he is,” he says carefully. “But… why are you so set on this?”

“Because you’re my best friend,” you say simply. “And he’s… my boyfriend. It would just be nice if you guys were friends, too.”

Mark looks at you for a long moment, his jaw tightening slightly before he nods. “Okay,” he says finally. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll hang out with him.”

You beam, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “Thanks, Mark. It means a lot.”

He forces a smile, but as he takes another bite of his muffin, you notice the way his shoulders tense.

And for the second time that week, you can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Mark adjusts his hoodie for the third time as he steps into the campus rec center, wondering how mad you’d be if he flaked on Jaemin. He spots him right away, standing by the basketball court with a bright smile on his face, spinning a ball on his finger effortlessly.

“Mark!” Jaemin calls, waving enthusiastically.

Mark forces a grin and waves back, shoving his hands into his pockets as he approaches.

“Hey,” he says.

“Glad you made it,” Jaemin says, tossing the ball to him. “You play, right?”

“Uh, not really,” Mark admits, catching the ball awkwardly.

Jaemin chuckles, his tone warm and friendly. “No worries. We’ll just shoot around. Nothing serious.”

They step onto the court, and Jaemin immediately starts talking, filling the space with his easy energy. He’s exactly how Y/N described—friendly, funny, and genuinely likable.

“So, Y/N told me you guys have been friends forever,” Jaemin says, making a shot effortlessly.

“Yeah,” Mark replies, dribbling the ball and taking a shot. It bounces off the backboard, and he winces. “We grew up together.”

“That’s awesome,” Jaemin says, running after the ball. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a friendship like that. She talks about you all the time, you know.”

Mark swallows hard, his throat tightening at the thought. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jaemin continues, passing the ball back to him. “She says you’re, like, the best person she knows. Always there for her.”

Mark forces a smile, the comment accentuating the already heavy weight on his chest. “She’s pretty great herself,” he says, taking another shot. This one goes in, and Jaemin claps excitedly.

“She really is.” Jaemin says, smiling softly.

As they continue playing, Mark starts to feel a strange mix of guilt and admiration. Jaemin is genuinely a good guy—there’s no doubt about it, and he obviously cares about Y/N. But every time Jaemin mentions her, Mark feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“So,” Jaemin says after a while of playing, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. “What do you think of me?”

Mark nearly chokes on his water. “What?”

“Come on,” Jaemin says, laughing. “I know you probably weren’t super excited about this. Y/N might’ve had to twist your arm a bit. So, what’s the verdict?”

Mark hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “You’re… a good guy,” he says finally.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow, grinning. “That’s it?”

Mark shrugs, forcing his hands to stay placed firmly on the ball, needing something to ground himself before he shouts his feelings to the world. “Y/N thinks so, and she’s usually right about people.”

Jaemin chuckles, his expression softening. “She’s something else, huh?”

Mark nods, his throat tightening again. “Yeah. She is.”

Jaemin leans back against the wall, tossing the ball between his hands. “I don’t know what I did to deserve her, honestly. She’s just… amazing.”

Mark doesn’t respond, forcing a smile, his chest aching at how easily Jaemin says the words Mark’s been too afraid to even think about out loud.

“Anyway,” Jaemin says, breaking the silence. “Thanks for hanging out. I know you probably had better things to do.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Mark replies, his voice quieter now.

As they step back onto the court to finish their game, Mark tries to focus on the sound of the ball hitting the floor, anything to distract himself from the guilt gnawing at him. Jaemin is exactly as Y/N said—perfect. And yet, Mark can’t shake the heavy, unspoken truth weighing on his chest.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The Friday after Mark and Jaemin’s basketball game, Mark sat on your couch, scrolling aimlessly through his phone while you organized your notes at the dining table. It was a typical evening—quiet and uneventful—but something felt off. Mark had been acting strange ever since his hangout with Jaemin, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was lying to you about something.

“Hey,” you called, your voice cutting through the silence. “You’ve been weird lately. Is something wrong?”

Mark didn’t even glance up. “I’m fine,” he said curtly.

You frowned but decided not to push. Instead, you tried to lighten the mood. “So, Jaemin was telling me about this soccer game next weekend, maybe all three of us could —”

“Do you talk about anything but Jaemin?” Mark snapped, his voice slicing through you sentence like a blade.

You froze, staring at him in confusion. “What?”

“You’re always talking about him,” Mark continued, setting his phone down with more force than necessary. “Jaemin this, Jaemin that. Do you even realize how much you talk about him?”

Your confusion quickly turned to anger. “Mark, what’s your problem? You’re the one who’s been acting all weird, and now you’re getting mad at me for talking about my boyfriend?”

Mark stood abruptly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Forget it. Just forget I said anything.”

“No,” you shot back, standing too. “You don’t get to yell at me and then walk away. What’s going on with you?”

“I said forget it, Y/N!” Mark shouted, his voice louder than you'd ever heard it before.

You took a step back, a pang hurt flashing across your face. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk to me, then don’t.”

For a moment, Mark’s expression softened, guilt and regret flickering in his eyes. But he quickly hardened again, grabbing his jacket. “You know what? I won’t.” Without another word, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

You stood frozen in place, your chest tight and tears pricking your eyes. You'd argued before, sure, but this time felt different—more real. You sank onto the couch, mind racing with questions you didn’t have answers to.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

During the days following the argument, you tried to go about life as normal, but Mark’s absence hung over you like a dark cloud. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. Jaemin was the first to notice.

The two of you were sitting on a park bench after grabbing coffee, the late afternoon sun casting warm light over the pond in front of them. Your barely touched your drink, gaze distant as you stared at the ducks paddling by.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Jaemin said gently, voice soft, as if he was afraid of what he was about to say.

“I’m fine,” you replied automatically, though your voice lacked any sense of genuineness.

Jaemin tilted his head, studying you with a soft, understanding look. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “Mark and I had a fight. He’s been acting so weird, and I don’t know why. It’s like he’s mad at me for something, but he won’t tell me what.”

Jaemin hesitated, his expression thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you don’t have feelings for Mark?”

Your head snapped up, your eyes wide in surprise, looking at her boyfriend, shocked. “What? No. Of course I don’t. He’s my best friend.”

Jaemin didn’t say anything right away, his gaze steady but kind. “Listen,” he began carefully, “you’re a great girl. Really. But... I think you might care about him more than you realize.”

You shook your head, a pit of dread bubbling in your stomach. “Jaemin, I—I like you. I do.”

“I know,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But not the way you like him. And that’s okay.”

Tears stung your eyes as guilt washed over you. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do this to you,” you whispered.

“Don’t be,” Jaemin said, placing a reassuring hand over yours. “You can’t help how you feel. And honestly? I think you should talk to him. Figure it out.”

You sniffled, giving him a small, watery smile. “You’re too nice, you know that?”

Jaemin laughed, leaning back against the bench. “I know.”

Despite the weight of their conversation, you felt a strange sense of clarity. You didn’t know what you were going to say to Mark, but for the first time, you knew you had to try.

You left the park bench with a renewed sense of purpose and a goal, to talk to Mark.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Jaemin was lying on your bed, legs stretched out as you paced back and forth. You had been trying to contact Mark for days—texts, calls, voicemails—but every attempt was met with silence. And it was driving you crazy.

“I don’t get it,” you mumbled, frustration and sadness evident in your voice. “He’s never acted like this before. We’ve argued before and we always made up, but now... now he’s avoiding me like I’m some kind of plague.”

Jaemin watched you, a quiet understanding in his gaze. He could tell how much it was bothering you, even though you were trying your very best to hide it.

“You’re not giving up, are you?” Jaemin asked, leaning forward slightly.

You stopped mid-pace, looking at him with a mixture of exhaustion and annoyance. “I don’t have a choice, Jaemin. He clearly doesn’t want to talk to me. Maybe I messed up, maybe I pushed him too far, but he’s not responding.”

Jaemin shook his head, his smile soft but firm. “Don’t give up on him, Y/N. You love him, and he clearly feels something similar for you. Maybe he just needs a little push.”

You sigh, sitting down beside him on the bed. “I just don’t know what else to do. It’s not like I haven’t tried.”

Jaemin paused for a second, a glint of mischief creeping into his eyes. “Well, what if I told you I had a plan to make him face you?”

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical but curious. “What?”

He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “I do. But you’re gonna have to trust me on this one.”

You frowned but nodded, trusting Jaemin more than anyone else. “Alright, what’s the plan?”

Jaemin leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper as he began to lay out the details of his plan. He knew it was a little underhanded, but if it meant fixing things with Mark and you, he was willing to take the risk.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few days later, Mark was hanging out with his friends Haechan and Chenle at their usual café. He had been avoiding you, and it wasn’t because he wanted to. The guilt gnawed at him every time he saw your name pop up on his phone, but he didn’t know how to fix things. Every time he thought about talking to you, he freaked out, not knowing if he could handle being rejected by you.

“Man, you’ve been really quiet lately,” Haechan said, nudging Mark’s shoulder. “What’s up with you?”

Mark shrugged, not meeting either of their gazes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Chenle raised an eyebrow. “Tired? Dude, you’re literally doing nothing. Just hiding out at home all day.”

“Yeah,” Haechan added, “and avoiding Y/N. Come on, what’s going on between you two?”

Mark stiffened, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of your name. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, his phone buzzed. A new message from Jaemin.

Hey, man. I need you to do me a favor.

Mark hesitated for a moment before replying, his fingers hovering over the keys. What’s up?

I need you to meet me at the park in 30 minutes. Trust me, it’s important.

Mark frowned, sensing something was off, but he couldn’t figure out what. Okay, fine. I’ll be there.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, barely noticing Haechan and Chenle’s knowing smiles.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

When Mark arrived at the park, he found Jaemin leaning against a bench, looking unusually serious.

“Why’d you need me to meet you?” Mark asked, crossing his arms and trying to hide his nervousness.

Jaemin smiled mischievously for a split second, but then he stood up straighter, his tone firm. “I’m going to help you fix things with Y/N.”

Mark blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Jaemin exhaled deeply, looking Mark in the eye. “Y/N’s been acting weird. Because you’re avoiding her. And I get it, man. I really do. But you’re hurting her by not talking to her. And she doesn’t deserve that.”

Mark felt a pang in his chest, guilt flooding his mind. “I know, but it’s complicated…”

“Complicated or not,” Jaemin interrupted, “you can’t just leave things like this. You’re her best friend, Mark. You mean everything to her.”

Mark’s throat tightened, his hands trembling slightly. “Why do you care? She’s your girlfriend.”

Jaemin’s expression hardened slightly. “Actually, she’s not. You’d know that if you answered her calls.”

Mark’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “What?”

Jaemin sighed, “Listen man, I like her, I do, but she doesn’t feel the same. We broke up. And now I’ve been trying to help her contact you. You’re hurting her a lot by ignoring her like this.”

Mark groaned, feeling a sense of disbelief that your ex-boyfriend was currently trying to convince him to confess his feelings to you.

Jaemin ignores the clear shock on Mark’s face, pulling out his phone and smirking. “I’ve been talking to Haechan and Chenle. They’re on board with this. We’ve already arranged it. You two are meeting up, whether you like it or not.”

Mark’s eyes widened as he realized Jaemin had masterminded the whole thing. “You… you told them?”

Jaemin gave him a pointed look. “I did. And you’re gonna thank me later.”

Before Mark could protest any further, he heard your voice from behind him. “I’m here.”

Mark turned around, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw you standing there, looking as nervous as he felt.

Jaemin stepped back, a sly grin on his face. “You two figure it out. I’ll leave you to it.”

As Jaemin walked away, Mark stood there, unsure of how to approach the situation. He wanted to run, but Jaemin’s words echoed in his head: You can’t just leave things like this.

You looked at him, eyes filled with uncertainty, and Mark’s heart sank seeing your disheveled state. He had to fix this. And he was going to try, no matter how scared he was.

Mark stood frozen for a moment, staring at you as you approached. His heart hammered in his chest, and all he could think was how easy it would be to turn around and walk away. To just disappear before this moment could get any more uncomfortable. But as much as he wanted to run, he couldn’t. Not when you had been so patient, so understanding—he owed you this conversation.

“Mark,” You called out softly, your voice hesitant but steady.

He exhaled, pushing the thought of escape aside, and turned to face you. You looked just as uncertain as he felt, and it made the guilt rise within him all over again.

You silently walked to a nearby bench, and Mark sat down first, his hands gripping the edge of the seat as if it could anchor him to reality. You sat beside him, her posture stiff, like you were preparing for some awful outcome.

After a long pause, you broke the silence. “Why have you been avoiding me?” you asked, voice a little softer than he expected, clearly you were nervous.

Mark felt his stomach drop, a wave of regret crashing over him. “Y/N, I…” He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I said that. I just… I was confused. I’ve been confused for a while.”

You frowned, clearly still unsure of where this was going. “Confused about what?”

“I—” He cut himself off, trying to find the right words. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to risk ruining their friendship, but there was no other way around it. “I’ve been in love with you, Y/N. For a long time now. And I didn’t know how to deal with it. So, I tried to ignore it.”

Your breath hitched, and you turned your head to look at him, your wide eyes betraying her mask of calmness. “What?”

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” he continued, voice thick with anxiety. “I was afraid that if I told you, you’d never want to talk to me again. And I’ve… I’ve been avoiding you ever since, because I thought if I just stayed away, it would be easier.”

You shook your head slowly, eyes glistening as you processed his words. “Mark… you’re my best friend. You should have told me.”

“I know. I should have,” he muttered, feeling even more ashamed. “I messed up. And then I lashed out at you, and that was stupid.”

You sigh deeply, and then, surprisingly, smile softly at him. “It’s okay, Mark. I get it now. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize it, but I was just too scared to admit how I felt.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you continued, your voice trembling a little, “I’m in love with you, too. I just didn’t want to mess things up, either. I didn’t want to lose our friendship.”

Mark’s heart skipped a beat. He blinked at you, his mind racing to process your confession. “You… you love me?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. I’m sorry I acted the way I did and I’m sorry for always bringing up Jaemin around you, I just—”

Mark could feel the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest tightened, and the guilt that had been gnawing at him for weeks was replaced by a rush of clarity. He couldn’t let this moment slip away, not after everything the two of you had been through.

Before you could say another word, Mark reached out, cupping your face gently with his hand. He leaned in and kissed you, his lips pressing against yours with a softness that made your heart race.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you pulled back slightly, voice shaky. “Oh my god.”

Mark chuckled softly, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

You blinked, still processing everything. “I… I didn’t expect that.”

Mark smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it either. But I guess it was time for me to stop being an idiot.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re not an idiot, Mark. You’re just… well, maybe a little bit. But I’m glad we’re talking about this now.”

He nodded, his smile growing wider. “Me too. And, uh, I guess we can’t just go back to how things were, right?”

You grinned, your eyes twinkling. “Yeah, I don’t think we can. But I’m okay with that.”

Mark took a deep breath, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “So, what now?”

You thought for a moment before shrugging. “I think we should just… figure it out. We already know each other so well, so maybe it’ll be easy.”

Mark grinned, feeling a warmth spread through him. “Yeah, I think we can make it work.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𝟅𝟈 omg another fic we cheered. thank u to the like 20 people who like my writing i really appreciate it. lmk if you have any requests pls

masterlist.

[myceliacrochet]

I feel so overwhelmed. I have no income, no stable place to live, and hundreds of people coming to me who need thousands of dollars each to avoid getting incinerated, starved, tortured. I make crochet -- when I can get supplies -- and I'm trying to make stickers, when I can get supplies... I'm not very employable and everything is so expensive and it's all falling on my roommate.

I need to hold a fundraising event

Everyone is either stretched to their limits helping or can't be bothered

I'm doing my best to reblog, follow, and react every single campaign I can that is either vetted or has a clean RIS. I'm telling myself that I'm doing enough by contributing art and promoting these campaigns, but the reality is people need money and I'm giving them condolences and things that may not help much.

I had a bit of success promoting Omar's campaign and foolishly believed I could get those kinds of results again. Tumblr staff is being beyond ruthless, attacking even the critical and dangerous vetting work people are risking their lives for on the ground.

I don't know what to tell people who are coming to me for help in what may be their last moments and I'm like "hey here have a shitty art I made that might make a miniscule difference but probably won't. All the best!" I try to respond through my actions instead of words because like Kurt Vonnegut said there's fucking nothing to say about genocide because no one's meant to say anything they're just meant to get blown up. So then I'm ignoring the people who most need help in the world, coldly turning away. So I say sorry and offer these small useless things as if it means anything and every day I lose more sanity and meaning in my life because doing less than what I can to help people not get genocided takes all the color out of my world. I can't imagine truly relaxing or enjoying anything until there's no genocide happening anymore, and I don't see that happening. I feel hopeless like I did in 2016 but this time there's no back door out.

Every time I start to work on something I feel hopeless like it won't work

I have to get my ass into gear, which means I need to:

- pick up my prescription for strattera, I guess I have that now. That will help me focus

- get back on my antidepressants as soon as Fatima's campaign hits $10,000. That will help me keep moving

- talk to other organizers so we can work together.

I am drowning, I am burning in this hxll created by my own culture. Every day they torture the children and the adults come into my DMs and scream help us please please someone help us.

All I can do is do my best every day. I'll keep moving forward

Doing something is better than doing nothing, gxddammit, which means I'm doing a good job I guess, it's just little comfort as I watch the children get engulfed in flames.

Like, I know I can't end all genocide on my own but there's got to be more effective things that I personally can do.

I guess I'll check out one of those lists of things you can do other than donating money

If anyone has yarn to donate and/or could cover shipping or help me find free yarn in my area, that would be so helpful. Because there's nothing I'd rather do than tune out and crochet most of the time and sell it for myself and others.

Please talk to me about how we can work together to help these precious people!!! I need to do more

@monstermashpotato @sylvianritual @gazavetters @determinate-negation @dlxxv-vetted-donations

@gaza-evacuation-funds @gazagfmboost @fly-sky-high-09 @90-ghost @nabulsi @halalchampagnesocialist @huzni @hussyknee @notallmensheviks @neechees @fuckyeahmarxismleninism @fayruz0-blog @gothhabiba @radicalgraff @marxism-transgenderism @marxist-lesbianism @voyagerprobe @workersolidarity @cheezbot @gayspacemonk @bogleech @slitherbop @butchniqabi

I guess I just need to work on my small business... Idek if I'm even helping by reblogging all this stuff, I'm just spending hours a day spreading stuff around to other people who can't really donate. I just seem to be wasting people's time who are going through genocide, I might even be only adding to their suffering. I don't know if I have the moral fibre to do this work, idk I just seem to cause bad things to happen to myself and everyone around me by dedicating so much time to reblogs instead of just securing an income, paying my bills, and being content to give a "reasonable" portion to genocide relief. I can't do that, I have to give all or most of myself but then I'm just a burden to my roommate and others. Or going all out and doing something really big that could really bring in the money they need

I'm sick but people need me

I guess what I'm seeing here is that I need to switch gears to working on crochet more and that will help me be able to help people and it will also be better for my mental health. I'll work on getting the supplies I need to continue. But idk I'll come back to this later and figure it out.

Thank you for listening I wish I could just let my brain scream to death but like people need me to keep it together so I can actually help but I'm at a loss as to how to help

I'll do it gxddammit I'll fucking get it done I'll crochet for this and it will make a difference and I don't have to suspend happiness until this is over I have to maintain some of that light of happiness within. It's not all on me we are working together

Hey 🩷 So I wanted to let people know that I am safe now. I'm back on my most necessary meds, I've applied for SNAP and general assistance, and I'm feeling stronger after having some more success promoting campaigns.

We are living during multiple holocausts. I take comfort in doing the work. We're making a difference in people's lives.

Thank you for helping me keep my head up. Let's keep going.

[literaila]

fighting

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: megumi gets in trouble at school

warnings: they are a family (and hate each other)

last part | next part

*

year three.

your mouth is a straight line, and you know both of them are staring at you. 

you're all sitting in the car, three hours before megumi's supposed to get out of school, and it's been quiet for the last ten minutes. 

you don't have anything to say, you think. nothing that will make sense of the mess in your head. 

and satoru's eyes are glaring into your head, burning your skin. you want to shove him and tell him to leave you alone--even though he's not doing anything--but that seems hypocritical. 

especially considering that megumi is suspended for the rest of the week. 

“okay,” satoru says, after his eyes have basically glazed over from focusing on you for too long. “megumi, can you say something? i think her head's about to explode.” 

“i'm fine,” you hiss. and then you glance at megumi in the rearview mirror and feel a little bad. 

he looks smaller than usual. his eyes are shifting from you to satoru, and his mouth is open like he wants to say something but isn't sure what. and, of course, he's scrunched himself up, almost a ball right behind you. 

you don't want to be frustrated with him, but it seems inevitable. he's just a kid, you try to think, but it doesn't work. when you were a kid you didn't-- 

so yeah, you feel bad for him. not that bad though. you know he knows what you’re going to say. 

megumi sighs (but it sounds more reminiscent of one of satoru’s many whines). “i’m… sorry.” 

he might as well be telling you that he cut out your heart, and blew up a church with how dreary his voice is. 

satoru grins. “there. we’re cool now.” he reaches back and ruffles megumi’s hair. his arms are too long for anything in the world. he's basically an arachnoid. “y/n…” he hums. “you can stop frowning now. he apologized.” 

you glance over at him, unimpressed. satoru will brush this away like everything else. 

even though you know he cares--and doesn't want you to be mad, or megumi to feel guilty. 

his stupid smile almost makes you break, but you look away. 

“sorry for what megumi?” you ask, softly, trying to ignore your stupid roommate. he’s been downgraded. 

“…hitting those kids.” 

“are you actually sorry?” you clarify, even though you know the answer. 

he’s silent. 

you can see out of your peripheral when satoru gives him a nasty look. mouthing something to him. 

at least you know where megumi gets this from. his protectiveness is not unique to you, but at least satoru does it jokingly. at least he only destroys the already destroyed. 

maybe you're thinking too hard about this. 

you sigh, this time, rubbing your eyes with one hand. “look, megumi, we can talk about it later.” 

you could use a break from both of them. a couple of minutes to yourself to... probably cry in your bed and wonder why the world is so terrible. 

“um, no we can’t.” satoru says. “i’m going to be gone later. i told you about my—“ 

you pinch his thigh over the gearshift. “we’ll talk without you.” 

he gasps. “excuse you,” he says, “but i am a part of this conversation.” 

“yes, i think you’ve done plenty to contribute to this, gojo.” 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” 

you try to smile at him, but it feels more like a grimace. “just that you’re the one sparing with megumi on the weekends.” 

satoru frowns. “we’re practicing. you want him to be as weak as every other shikigami user in the world?” he asks, rhetorically. 

“i like sparring,” megumi interjects, like it matters. 

“maybe a little too much,” you say, under your breath. 

satoru grabs your hand from his leg, intertwining his fingers with yours. it would be sweet--a nice connection--if you weren't actively trying to hurt him. 

maybe megumi gets it from both of you. 

“okay, megumi,” satoru sings. “you can’t hit your classmates, okay? look i fixed it.” 

you glare at him. then turn into your driveway. 

satoru groans. “why are you both so difficult? megumi, just apologize, and y/n, he made a mistake. he’s not gonna do it again.” 

“i’m not talking about this right now,” you tell him, shaking your hand from his, wanting not to be mad at either of them.

but you’re mad at both. they both suck and you love them too much to even yell. 

“i’m difficult?” megumi retorts. 

satoru groans again and you all get out of the car. 

“go get started on your homework,” you tell megumi, after you unlock the door. “we can talk in a bit.” 

your voice is naturally softer with him. megumi’s too cute to stay angry at. 

satoru doesn’t have that issue. 

megumi looks back at you, his eyes inquisitive, his mouth pinched. “you’re mad at me?” 

you sigh, hanging the keys on the hook. “no, megs. it’s fine. we just need to talk about it. later. 

“you’re mad,” he repeats, all-knowing. seriously, who allowed satoru to raise him? 

“i… maybe a little. not really at you. just the situation.” 

“i’m sorry.” 

you shake your head, hand on your back as you gently nudge him down the hall. “just go hang out for a bit. relax.”

you try not to notice how he rubs his fists, tiny bruises forming on his tiny knuckles.

satoru walks in behind you, bumping into you purposefully. “start writing your opening statement,” he adds, grinning at you both. 

you push him away and megumi rolls his eyes. 

you walk into the kitchen, thinking about moving megumi to a new school—a new family. they’ll probably do better than you’re doing. at least there he won't have one parent who actively eggs him into violence every day. 

you know satoru is following you (because when isn’t he?) but you don’t expect a hand tapping on your arm, and wary blue eyes meeting yours. 

dark blue eyes. 

“can we talk now?” megumi asks, his voice softer than usual. you can tell he feels bad, but you know that it’s only because you’re upset. 

and it’s not even him. you just wish that he had a better response to these things. that he didn’t feel like fixing everything was his responsibility.

you’re not sure where you went wrong, but you know that it was somewhere. 

“megumi… i just need to think for a bit. i’m really not mad.” this time you actually smile at him, because even if he’s beating kids up in school, he’s so sweet to all of you. so cautious.

(except for satoru, but he deserves it). 

“i’m really sorry. i didn’t mean to get in trouble.” 

satoru snorts from behind you. he’s leaning against the wall, watching. 

lord knows he wouldn’t be any help—even if he actually was contributing to the conversation. 

you swallow, because you really don't want to tell megumi anything. not without running it through satoru first, at least. without considering the consequences. 

but he looks very worried, and you don't want to leave him to obsess over this by himself. 

“i just don’t understand why…” you shake your head. you’re not going to make any sense of a nine-year-old mind. “you can’t hit people because you’re upset. you know that.” 

“they were messing with a girl in class,” he says, frowning. then he looks to satoru, his head tilted. “i thought that’s what you told me? i’m stronger, i can help.”

“uh….” satoru scratches the back of his neck, wincing. he's lucky that he's several feet away from you. 

you turn. “what?” 

“i—“ he holds his hands up in defense immediately. “i may or may not have mentioned that we, as in all of us, we’re meant to be upstanders, you know. not—“ he clears his throat. clasps his hands together. “bystanders.” 

“satoru.” you groan, leaning against the counter. at least it's all coming together. 

you need to bug him or something, just to monitor everything he says 

satoru continues. “but i meant in public! with curses. not—not children,” he glares at megumi. 

probably for ratting him out. 

“but you said that if someone was in trouble—“ 

“can you stop talking?” satoru says to him, shaking his head, lips pouting pathetically. “i didn’t raise a snitch.” 

you furrow your brows and megumi crosses his arms. 

“satoru, you told him to fight people?” 

he winces again, adjusting his glasses. “i meant… bad people.” 

“they were bad,” megumi reassures you both because it obviously matters. “they tried to steal her backpack. that’s bad.” 

you sigh, shaking your head. 

you can't believe that you're still standing here, still contemplating what to say to him. 

where did it all go wrong? 

“was the backpack cool?” satoru wonders, going to stand right next to you, hand slinging around your shoulder. he ignores it when you try to push him off. 

he's probably just trying to be annoying. 

megumi frowns. “i don’t know, i didn’t ask her to—“ 

“stop talking, both of you.” 

you ponder running away from all of them and starting a new life. rome is supposed to be nice this time of year, and you’ve been saving up… 

but you’d feel bad for leaving tsumiki with the two of them. plus, satoru doesn’t know how to fill out his tax return. 

“we’re talking,” satoru says, raising a brow at you. “you like that.” he grins at you like he’s solved world hunger or something. 

with his stupid face and stupid mouth. you would move to rome just so you never had to look at him again and feel briefly distracted. 

“i need a minute to think.” 

the two boys share a look. how you’ve survived three years with them is questionable. 

finally, you sigh again, rubbing your temple. “megumi, you know you can’t hit people. why didn’t you get a teacher? violence is never an option.” 

satoru frowns. “what about—“ 

“in the real world,” you correct, glaring at him. “violence is not an option. don’t put your hands on other people. talk to someone.”

megumi kicks his foot against the hardwood. “i didn’t think they’d listen.” 

you nudge his chin, getting him to look at you. “then you tell one of us. preferably not satoru. i know—i understand that you want to help, but hurting someone just to protect someone else isn’t any better than bullying, okay?” 

“yeah, don’t bully your bullies," satoru waves a finger at him. 

you roll your eyes, and megumi looks disheartened—annoyed maybe—but nods eventually. 

not that you expect him to agree immediately anyway. megumi has never been fond of talking. even with all of you, he'd rather hug you than ask how your day is. 

and it's fine, usually. you don't want to push him. 

you also don't want to have to bail him out of jail. 

“okay. good. if this ever happens again i'm homeschooling you.” 

megumi doesn’t seem to mind this, shrugging at the threat.

you pause, then say, “actually, satoru is homeschooling you.” 

the boy frowns. 

satoru nudges your side, giving you a skeptical look. “no punishment? he’s just free to go? last time i tried to—“ 

“you were trying to put megumi in a headlock.” 

“he was eating the last mochi! he knew i was saving it.” 

you scowl at him. “it’s not even his fault,” you say, looking pointedly at him. then you brighten. “and he has to deal with you every day, that’s punishment enough.” 

satoru opens his mouth, holding a hand in the air. then he closes it. 

you turn around to see megumi smirking at him. 

you roll your eyes. “what do you want to tell tsumiki?”

you'll have to pick her up in an hour or two, and she's going to ask questions. plus, megumi's scratched-up hands are not very discreet. 

megumi’s face falls. “um—“ 

satoru starts laughing beside you, body shaking against yours, and you feel like there’s about to be another fight. 

but at least you’re not upset anymore. 

megumi says something to satoru--like shut up--but you're not really listening anymore. just looking between the two like they aren't the most important, special things in the world to you. 

whatever happens, you think, is satoru's fault. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[honeyhoshi]

you do it naturally

summary: the hiding, the secrets, and staying back to watch him shine has never been an issue. until today.

it’s the night before the biggest show of his life, but it’s soonyoung's turn to show her that he’s her biggest fan.

this is a part of the playlist universe

genre: social media au/trad fic hybrid, solo idol au, celebrity x non-celebrity

wordcount: 4,606

pairing: solo idol!hoshi x afab!reader

warnings: discussions about self-esteem issues, body image/weight, feelings of jealousy, plenty of frustrated tears, afab reader, female anatomy, fingering, squirting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, crying during sex (good!!), dirty talk (lovingly), pussy drunk hoshi (canon), implied chubby/bigger reader

author's notes: unfortunately i am horribly in love with hoshi so this is my humble contribution to his smut tag

As someone whose life revolved around sugar, butter, and flour, this was a new world. The tension in the air is palpable and the flurry of activity is so different from the kind of rush you’re used to. You’re nearly tripping over your feet trying to catch up to the member of the staff who's been sent to assist you. This must be so out of their scope of work, it's almost embarrassing how clueless you are to all of this.

It’s been three years since you started dating Soonyoung, and while you’ve never missed one of his shows in Seoul, this is your first time attending one of his rehearsals. He’s notorious for being laser focused and demanding of his team, making sure everyone remembered their collective goal of an amazing show. You never wanted to get in the way of that or to be considered a distraction. 

In fact, that’s always how you’ve operated as his girlfriend. You understand where you stand, what your role is, and when it’s time to work, you will stand back and let him shine.

But when you make it to the front of the stage, taking a seat close to Soonyoung’s managers after giving them a friendly smile, you can’t help the wave of pride that comes over you as you take everything in. The stage is massive, the largest Soonyoung’s ever had, and over thirty dancers are on stage with him as he adjusts the blocking and tweaks steps.

Then he catches your eye.

His eyes disappear as he smiles and you can’t help but do the same. You fight off the urge to wave, wanting him to get back to what he’s doing knowing full well they have limited time to go over everything before resting for the evening. You can’t take your eyes off him though. Preparations for concerts usually take him away from you for weeks at a time, and with the scale of this one, you hadn’t seen each other in the flesh for a month.

Just seeing him in front of you now already makes you feel sated.

“Can we do another run of the new song with the pair choreo. We just want to see which works better,” the director calls from the tech booth.

“Nari-ssi, please come up. Everyone else, take 5,” the choreographer on stage with them calls into her mic.

Soonyoung had mentioned he was debuting a new song at the concert. It was something he and Jihoon had worked on last minute that he couldn’t stop talking about, wanting to drop hints but also saying he wanted it to be a surprise for when you would see it at the show. He had dropped the topic dead a few weeks ago.

Nari bounds up the stage with a glorious spring in her step, bare faced but glowing. Her practice clothes fit her like a glove and her overall vibe gives off the energy that she herself was an idol.

That ugly feeling starts to simmer in your stomach as what you suppose is the song starts to play. The intro is slow and sultry and the sweat in your palms starts to grow uncomfortable. Only an idiot wouldn’t understand the sensuality of this song from the get go.

The love of your life is standing right there but you can’t take your eyes off of Nari as she finds her blocking before the verse starts. Nari smiles at Soonyoung and makes a comment you can’t hear from your seat. You feel sick.

Soonyoung and Nari are facing each other with one of his hands on her chin, lifting her gaze to him. His other hand is resting on her slender hip and in a three count from their choreographer, they move in unison.

“Three, four, five, ‘oh baby, cause I’ da, da da!”

The MR only covers the backing vocals but still you know that’s Soonyoung’s crooning and matched with the way his and Nari’s hands and bodies move, you’re transfixed. Horribly.

You avert your eyes, unable to focus and try to play it off as replying to an urgent message, but you’re startled when you hear a loud “SOONYOUNG FOCUS!”

Your head flies up to find Soonyoung staring you down from the stage, eyebrows furrowed and looking, dare you say, nervous.

“We need to see how this is actually going to look like tomorrow, so please let’s put more effort into this. Poor Nari’s giving it her all, Nyoung-ah.”

Soonyoung tries to communicate with you wordlessly but your unwillingness to keep eye contact makes it difficult for Soonyoung to get whatever it is across.

The music plays back again and they return to their starting positions and you know he’s turned it On.

The look on his face, the focus in his eyes. This is what he looks like when he’s locked in, and when his body starts to move, everything falls away.

But Nari.

They move seamlessly, sensually, and just Right. She matches every beat, wave, and touch he gives her. And gives back that same sultry energy with a flick of her wrist, dip of her hip, and when she leans her head back on his shoulder, allowing him to move her body to the music.

You could never move like that. You could never fit in his arms like that. 

The song ends and the dancers around them hoot and jeer and Nari blushes as she and Soonyoung finally break their grazes, breathless.

They would never cheer for you like that.

This has never gotten to you this badly. Usually, the distance between the two of you allows you to compose yourself when things get muddled in your head, able to piece yourself together when the fear and insecurity claw up your throat. But your usual proximity is nonexistent and the gap has been closed.

Being with an internationally acclaimed artist meant busy schedules and only being able to squeeze in the littlest dates every now and then. You had time to prepare for those, give yourself the pep talk of It’s been three years. If he wanted you gone, he’d have said something by now.

In preparation for the show you two had made prior plans you would stay with him, an impromptu long weekend “getaway” you had put in at work almost 3 months ago. But now it feels like you’re trapped. You’ve been short with him since his rehearsals wrapped and you’d met up with him in his private dressing room. You could only stomach to say surface level good jobs and you’re always so amazing!

There’s no way he hasn’t picked up on it yet because the air in the car was nonexistent. It was stifling and you could feel the waves of anger simmering underneath Soonyoung’s skin, just waiting to burst forth the moment the two of you were alone.

He knew something was wrong. He always knew. 

The ride up the elevator to his unit felt like the longest and shortest elevator ride of both of your lives and the second Soonyoung had let you into his place and locked the door behind him, you wanted to cry.

“Can we finally talk about this?” He starts. 

“What?”

“Babe.”

“Soonyoung.”

“Are we really doing this?” He sighs, exasperated.

You feel bad. But the sadness is gnawing at your head and heart and neither are working correctly.

“We’re not ‘doing’ anything, Soonyoung.” You say as you toe off your shoes and put down your bag before facing him.

And what a glorious face it is. He’s always been the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He looks best like this, you think. Soft and free of makeup and tired and home.

“I’m sorry,” you start, face beginning to crumple and the sting of hot fresh tears threaten to spill.

“No, no, no, baby. Come on, come here,” Soonyoung’s scrambling to pull you into his arms, “Hey, hey, shhh. Look at me, talk to me.”

He pulls her face into his hands and tries to lift her gaze towards him. But she fights and tries to keep her head down.

“Baby, you have to talk to me, okay? You have to talk to me and tell me what I did wrong, hmm?” He respects your refusal to look at him and instead hugs your head to his chest, resting his chin atop the crown of your head.

Soonyoung wraps his other hand around your shoulders and maneuvers the two of you to lay on the couch, You’re still sobbing, large tears falling from your eyes and dampening the shirt he’s wearing.

When he moves to lay down on one of your favorite spots to cuddle in his home, you freeze in his arms, sobs stopping and shoulders going rigid. You push yourself off of him, hands going up to brush the tears off the face.

“No, no, I’m too heavy, I'll crush you.” It is almost business-like how you snap back into this cold tone.

Soonyoung stops, sits up straight, “What are you talking about?”

You groan, “Soonyoung, I don’t want to get into it. Please, you’ve had a long day, tomorrow is going to be—“

“No,” he cuts you off, “We don’t get to talk about tomorrow until we talk about today. Until we talk about what’s going on right now.”

“Soonyoung—I just. I don’t know how to talk about this. I’m just blowing things out of proportion. It’s nothing, I swea—“

“It isn’t nothing, though, is it?” He says, softer now. He reaches up for your hand, “You’re upset. You’ve been upset since I saw you after rehearsals. We have to talk about this, baby. We promised each other we’d talk things through.”

Your eyes sting again, a fresh batch of tears ready and threatening to make their appearance. That sharp feeling in your nose is there, any second now.

“Tell me how I can make it better, baby.”

The dam breaks and you fall boneless into Soonyoung’s embrace. You straddle his lap and wraps your arms around him, pressing the two of you chest to chest.

You bury you face in Soonyoung’s neck and let out a shuddering sob.

“I’m sorry, I’m being so, so immature and so unreasonable. You didn’t do anything,” you say, still slightly unintelligible from the tears.

“You’ve never done anything that’s made me sad or angry, Soonyoung. It’s me, it’s me and my stupid brain.”

“Hey, hey, no. Please please don’t say that, hmm? Let’s work this out together,” Soonyoung coos.

“I-i-i just felt so horrible, Soonyoung!” You finally cry, “She looked so beautiful and perfect and just so RIGHT in your arms and God, the way you two moved and how everyone watched the two of you.”

Soonyoung pulls away, grasping you face in his hands and finally locking eyes with you.

“I know I said I’m okay keeping this a secret and keeping everything simple and under wraps, and it’s fine! I promise, it really isn’t that.”

“Then what is it, baby?”

You’re quiet for a bit as Soonyoung traces the path of your tears with his thumbs, wiping them away.

“I’ll never be able to do what she can. Nari. I’ll never look like her or act like her or move like her. I can’t even dance with you without looking like a fool.”

Soonyoung feels his heart sink. His own eyes start to grow bleary and when he blinks a tear falls to his cheek. He drops his head to your chest and breathes you in.

“I’m sorry—“

“Oh no, Soonyoung it isn’t yo—“

“I’m sorry that things have gotten this far that you’ve grown to feel that way. I’m sorry because I know in some way or form all of this has become that and I didn’t catch it.”

When he lifts his head, tear tracks mark his pretty face and his nose is red.

“But you have to know,” he starts, eyes very serious, and not daring to look away from you, “You have to know that you are everything. You are everything to me. You’re even more than that.”

“And we are going to dance. Oh we are going to dance all the time. I am going to dance with you in the kitchen when we’re waiting for focaccia to bake, we are going to dance in the bedroom when we change the sheets, and we are going to dance when I marry you. And everyone will have their eyes on you and they will clap and cheer because just look at the woman I love.”

“Soonyoung—“

He stands with a start and you instinctively wrap your arms around him, elbows hooking over his shoulders. His hands are under your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. He’s carrying you into his room.

The lights automatically flicker on as he enters and kicks the door closed behind you, “In fact, baby, why don’t we start now hmm?”

“What, start what?”

He grins and any semblance of sadness has vanished from his face. He smiles and something in your heart is elated.

“Dancing, of course.”

Soonyoung is known in the industry as an ace — able to sing, rap, compose, choreograph, and above all things, dance. And dance with you he does.

The way he can make your body move is unexplainable because once he placed you at the center of his bed, he’d strummed at your body, mouthed at your pulse and had gotten you out of your top and jeans before you could even fully comprehend.

His mouth is hot on yours and he breathes in your air as soon as you exhale and you’re growing lightheaded as his hands continue to undress you. In an attempt to get some air in both your lungs, he pulls away to frantically tear his shirt over his head, not daring to take his eyes off you. He flings it over his shoulder unceremoniously, not a care in the world where it lands and makes quick work of his sweatpants. 

“What, you thought you’d get lucky tonight?” You quip at him, “Even when you knew I was feeling tilted?

He’d gone commando.

“Good mood, bad mood, whatever the fuck mood, I want you,” he laughs as dives back in to kiss you.

His hands are everywhere, like he doesn’t know what and where to touch, wanting to feel you everywhere before settling on the thickness of your thighs. He spreads your legs slightly so he could slot himself in between them, cock pressed perfectly to your center. 

And then he grinds. The head of his cock nudges perfectly at your clothed clit and you let out a mewl.

“There you go, let me hear you,” he groans into your ear, “Y’sound so good for me, sweetheart.”

“Soonyoooouung,” you can’t control the drawn out moan of his name. After everything you’re pent up and everything feels too much already.

He lets his mouth trail wet, open mouthed kisses from your jaw to your neck as his hands busy themselves undoing the hook of your bra. He scrambles to get it off of you and immediately pulls one nipple in his mouth, nipping and soothing it with a slow lave of his tongue.

He grips your other breast in his palm and squeezes, biting his lip at how your flesh molds to his touch.

“Fuck your tits are fucking perfect.”

This man was groping and grinding against you, and you blush as he compliments your breasts.

He continues kissing down the valley between your breasts and you hold your breath as he starts pressing his lips onto your stomach. It dips and springs back as he moves and your eyes zero in on the deeper colored lines of your stretch marks. There are more on your thighs to match.

But he makes no comment. 

He instead groans whenever he stops to suck a bruise and to run his tongue over the mark he’s made. 

“You’re so,” he starts, almost breathless, “You’re everything.” He laughs at his own inarticulate thoughts before hooking his thumbs into the elastic of your underwear.

He pulls them off and moves back up to press a deep kiss to your mouth, “I want to make you come three times, love.”

“What?” You’re dazed.

His right hand moves down to trace your ass and hook under your knee so he can spread you open.

“First, I’m going to fuck you open on my fingers,” he breathes, “then when you’re nice and wet and open for me, I want you to sit on my face, alright?”

With all his talk distracting you, you’re suddenly startled when you feel his thumb on your lower lips, starting to spread you apart.

“Then when you’ve come all over my face, I’m going to fuck my come into you, just how you like it. Right, baby?”

He slips in two fingers into you with no warning and you keen, high and wanton and uncontrollable.

Soonyoung is rough and quick when he fingers you and no matter how slow and sensual the lovemaking is, this will always be fast, hard, and messy.

While one hand is busy pumping two fingers into you, the other pinches your clit and quickly rubs, wanting your first orgasm to come as quickly as possible.

Your lower lip is close to bleeding as you try to keep your voice down but Soonyoung only chuckles when he sees your attempts at restraint.

“Baby we’re soundproofed in here. Make all the noise you want.”

You want to slap at his chest playfully at least, get him to feel some semblance of shame, but just as you try to make some quick remark, his fingers brush that spot inside of you and he presses down hard.

You’re unable to hold in the scream that rips through your throat as his arm flexes and he roughly thrusts his fingers in and out of you.

You clench your eyes shut as you finally let him have your first release. It’s almost explosive and you spill messily all over his fingers and arm, his other hand making a bigger mess, spraying drops of your release letting them fly further.

Breathing comes hard but he’s already pulling out of you and moving your body around until you’re on your knees.

Soonyoung lays on his back and tugs at your hands to grip at his headboard, “Fuck I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Soonyoung, what if—“

“If you want to stop, we’ll stop. Just say the word,” he says, propping himself up with his elbow.

“You have to do the same,” you say shakily, still trying to get your bearings after the mind blowing first orgasm.

“Unlikely, but you know I’ll tell you everything, love.”

And just like that he lays back again, looking more eager than you could have ever imagined. You kneel over his chest and slowly inch upwards before lowering yourself over his mouth.

Soonyoung’s always loved eating you out. He loves when sex is wet and messy and loud. He loves the taste of you and making so much noise while he’s pressed up against your pussy it almost seems like he’s the one getting release.

Every flex and curl of his tongue has you whimpering and you can’t help the way you throw your head back as his nose nudges at your clit, still sensitive from your first orgasm.

He coaxes this second one slower but it hits you just as strongly as he continues to mouth at your core even when you’re crying and shaking from the sensitivity. You almost topple off the bed as you climb off Soonyoung to lay back next to him on the bed.

You turn your head to Soonyoung and the entirety of his lower face is wet with your release and your face burns. But Soonyoung is aglow with arousal and just so much love.

He coaxes your mouth to meet his own and it is a reprieve from how quickly he moved for you to reach your high twice in such a short period of time.

You can taste yourself on his mouth but it makes you groan as his tongue pushes its way to mingle with your own.

Despite the desperation at which you both moved, this is slow and quiet. Just you lips moving against each other and the sheets rustling fills the space.

Soonyoung pushes himself off the bed cautiously, desperate to keep his lips on you as he positions himself between your thighs.

Just like that a switch flips and the urgency to have him starts once more. He pressed his cock against your entrance and let the underside slide against your wet cunt. It offers you little relief, the friction hardly enough to get you there.

He pulls away and brings one hand to your face as the other holds him over your body.

Soonyoung’s hooded lids and glazed eyes are a sight to behold. His hair is damp and the shorter strands that frame his face are plastered onto his forehead. There’s a bead of sweat that’s clinging to the cut of his jaw and you ache to press your mouth to it. 

His thumb traces the curve of your cheek, the plumpness of your lower lip, and slowly he’s pressing the finger between your teeth. You press your tongue against the pad of his thumb and wrap your lips around the finger, and suck.

God, I love this man. I will always only love this man.

“I love you,” he gasps as he finally presses in and sinks into you.

Any other day and it would be embarrassing how close you both are to the edge, but you both know that his evening was far from normal. Your heart is hammering in your chest so hard you feel like it’ll rip itself out of its confines. Everything feels too good and too much and you want it. You want this every single day if you could.

Soonyoung sits up and uses both hands to grip onto your hips and to brace himself. What he does next makes your head spin.

“I’m so close, baby. You gotta say it.” He stands on his knees, changing the angle slightly. Then he lifts your hips just right and the noise you let out as his cock sinks into you perfectly is completely pitiful.

“Say it.”

“Soonyoung!” you cry out. It’s a sob, really. Depraved, almost, in the desperation and the raw fucking feeling thats burning through your nerves.

“Just say it baby, you know the words. Say it and I’ll make good on the very last fucking promise I made tonight,” he says, the edge in his voice making itself known. He wanted to make this evening soft, slow, and for every movement to have meaning. But he has always been hungry.

Hungry for the stage, bigger venues, brighter lights, more challenging steps, and of course for you.

He breathes in through his nose sharply and tries to exhale slowly and paced, “Just say it baby, I know you can.”

“You’re mine.”

“That’s it. I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”

The years of precise practice and this industry expertise has made the man you love into the most exquisite lover.

He thrusts quick and deep and the undulations of his hips have you seeing stars and tearing up once more. He’s everywhere, in your eyes, head, lungs, heart and you’ll be damned if you ever let him go.

The insecurities and the problems and the people will always be there, they will always cause uncertainties but this is one thing you will always be sure of. You will always be sure of him.

Soonyoung comes with a cry of your name and the most beautiful gasp against your mouth as he pumps you full of his cum, pushing you over the edge and he swallows the cry you let out.

He pulls away to press breathless kisses against your face and any other part of you he can get his lips on mumbling, “I’m yours, I’m yours. I’ll always only be yours.”

It starts slowly, warm, and comfortable. The rustling of the sheets and the hot wet press of his mouth slowly coaxing you into that soft space of barely awake, but able to slip back to sleep if you stayed quiet enough.

“I gotta go, baby,” is Soonyoung’s whisper, cheek resting atop your head. 

You hum in response, not fully coherent to put together words after he’d pulled endless strings of moans and cries from your lips the night prior.

He presses a kiss to your hair, “Didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. I’ll see you tonight, gorgeous.”

You feel the way the bed dips and the blankets move as he goes to stand. He slips on his shoes and, unable to leave so easily, moves back towards the bed and kneels by where your head rests on a pillow.

“I love you, think about what I said last night, okay?”

You tried to keep yourself collected, keep the frantic energy sizzling in your veins at bay. Soonyoung had put on the show of his life, something that happens just a few times in a performer’s life, you’re sure. Pride had swelled so grandly in your heart. You had been so lovestruck watching him that it felt like he could see you whenever he had turned his head in your general direction.

Backstage is still abuzz from the end of the show. You’re sure people are still running around making sure the egress goes smoothly, that all the fans are able to exit the stadium safely. But everything comes second the moment you hear his voice.

“Has she been escorted from her se—“

You can’t help it. You’re so happy, so excited, and so in love with him. You’re running toward him. He’s changed out of his encore outfit and into a sweater—oversized the way he likes them— and sweatpants. He could slip into bed any second now it looks like.

“Soonyoung!” You call out, stealing his attention.

He turns to you and the most breathtaking smile spreads on his face and you throw yourself into his arms. He catches you and you wrap your legs around his slender waist.

“It was amazing, you’re so amazing. Congratulations, oh my god!” You’re blabbing, you can feel your mouth going a million miles an hour but you can’t stop.

You pull him into a crushing hug as he gently puts your feet back on the ground, keeping your arms around his neck.

“And that new song, Jesus you weren’t kidding, it’s so good and the choreo! The way you moved! You changed the choreo last minu—“ In a split second, his lips are on yours and you can’t help but smile against him.

You break away, breathless when you remember, “Soonyoung, everyone can see.”

He gives you a silly quizzical look, “Only thinking about that now and not when you jumped into my arms?”

You’re speechless. He’s right.

“I’d be happy if everyone knew,” Soonyoung says simply and pulls you in again for another kiss.

When you pull away, you suck in a large breath and say, “Okay.”

There’s a small smile that he can’t hide as he asks, “Okay…? To what, exactly?”

You blush and bury your head in his chest. You want to while, he’s so annoying.

“To everything. To everything you said last night,” you mumble into his chest, trying to muster enough confidence to keep going.

“Okay, I’ll move in with you. Okay, I’ll tell all my friends about you. Okay, let’s make us public.”

-`✮´- if you've come this far, thank you. if you’d like to drop a like or reblog this, it would mean the world to this new author!

[violexides]

before people get vicious i want to remind you all of a few things, starting with the fact that third party voters are not to blame for the results of the election, but rather that (1) the democratic party refused to end their genocide at every opportunity and, most influential in this specific case, (2) there has been a substantial rise of right-wing sentiment in this country that is what contributed most directly to the Republican victories we have seen in Congress and in the executive office.

regardless of who entered office, there would have been a substantial need to organize, and we are seeing that now more than ever. this is obviously horrifyingly scary shit, but queer people are resilient, Palestinians are resilient, the Black and Brown and Indigenous people of this country are resilient, the colonized people of the world are resilient. we will be able to organize until every last one of us is dead, so know that there is always something you can do. and that hope is a stronger thing than something one tyrant can end.

this is an interconnected struggle and at no point does our work stop. we don't owe candidates or politicians shit. volunteer with a hotline. call/sign petitions. go out into the streets. create art. form connections with people you may not have talked to before. cook for your friends. connect with unhoused people in your area. talk to the elders in your community. find sanctuary online if you cannot find it in person. politically educate, starting from the absolute basics because that is what is most lost in discourse sometimes. take everything one painful step at a time. maybe you got out of bed, maybe you brushed your teeth, maybe you ate breakfast, maybe you changed clothes-- these are all substantial things, and the movement suffers without you so keep doing them.

this is a terribly scary time in the world for all of us, but it has been a terribly scary time for a while across the world. don't let hopelessness stop you from fighting for the end of the genocide in Palestine, Congo, Sudan, and many other places in the world. know that if you are queer, we have survived worse shit throughout our history, and there are so many more options now for us. we need mutual aid for queer people but also and especially for our siblings of color and our disabled siblings and our poor siblings and our altogether marginalized siblings, from here to Palestine, from Sudan to West Papua, from Tigray to Kurdistan, from Armenia to Congo, from the world to the world.

i don't take a second of my time on earth for granted and i haven't for a few years. i am really fucking scared right now, i have been for months and months but it's taken a new form. but, today, the sun is out and shining on my bedroom floor. i brushed my teeth and i'm going to eat some grapes now. my professor sent a kind email. i have a lot of work to do. i have to get busy loving a lot of people.

eat what it takes to survive. sleep what it takes to survive. talk what it takes to survive. learn what it takes to survive. love what it takes to survive. live where it takes to survive. these are our fundamentals. and know that from there, we organize and we fight for something better than survival.

i am not losing my family, my found family, my friends, my peers, my professors, my roommates, my community like this. we gotta get busy.

take as long as you need to grieve. i have been grieving for a long time (this past year, for Palestine; my lifetime, for Iraq) and will grieve these results for the next four years. but understand that no matter who wins any presidential election, we have to organize. we can learn from our past here. i don't care if it's a bush in office, an obama in office, a trump in office, a biden or a harris in office, we have work to do because they won't do it for us.

Palestine and the occupied nations and people of the world will be free. they will not make martyrs of all of us. the struggle will continue so long as we are all free. victory is assured so long as the struggle continues.

i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you as hard as i hate the empire. this hate and this love forges what we need to keep this struggle alive, until victory and liberation for us all.

[reonnex]

The infantilization of book!Wylan and show!Wylan really needs to be looked at.

This isnt a call out, or trying to hate on anyone, just an overall thing I've seen throughout being in this fandom

In the books while Wylan is a child he is also 16. People underestimate him into innocent and even younger. And while he is naive, this does not make him innocent. He has his own morals, own judgment that havent been ripped away from him yet. He is just trying to survive.

People use the "we could wake them up line" a lot snd I agree! But to also look at the full lines as well

Wylan gestured to the guards. "Is it safe to leave them, you know-"

"Alive? I'm not big on killing unconscious men."

"We could wake them up."

"Pretty ruthless, merchling. Have you ever killed anyone?"

"I'd never even seen a dead body before I came to the Barrel." Wylan admitted.

"It's not something to be embarrassed about," Jesper said, surprising himself a little. But he meant it. Wylan needed to learn to take care of himself, but it would be nice if he could do it without getting on friendly terms with death."Make sure the gags are tight."

This isnt him being ruthless. Its him being logical. He is taking what Jesper says to heart. Wake them instead of killing them unconscious becuase Jesper doesn't want to kill unconscious men. Which they do end up tying the soldier to a pole, not killing them!! Him having morals shouldn't contribute to claims of him being innocent.

Wylan is worried about hurting people but will do so if nessecasry to save his friends. We can see this in the show and books. In the show he does not want to make bombs for Kaz, but does so in the end because he acknowledges he has to survive. He is worried about Alby, but goes along with the plan still.

All these are what makes Wylan, wylan. It is his fundamentals, his morals and idels. They are not however claims to see how sweet and innocent he is and how he was corrupted.

Ontop of this, while it is never y it is hevaily implied that Wylan is also autistic. (Also, correct me if im wrong please, but im pretty sure Jack did talk about this.) Autistic people get infantilizated already, and I've had my own fair share of this as well. ( I am autistic and have a learning disabilitiy, as well a speech impedament that I still struggle with.) I have to work harder to make sure people treat me as a twenty year old. Because that is my age, and there is a significant difference in attitude in how people treat me when they know im autistic, and when they don't.

And for Wylan, I feel like its the same issue. While it may not be intentional, ive been people coo over the fact Wylan has done simple tasks or teen experiences. Him having Jesper read to him, getting flustered when talking to him, Wylan not understanding social cues as well as others and taking things to face value.

You can be excited for him and think it's sweet, but to also acknowledge that there is a line between "Thats adorable" and "He's adorable." Wylan is someone who is neurodivergent. He was extrmetly sheltred as a child and was never given the proper tools to help his dyslexia, due to this he has struggles that shouldn't be overlooked or seen as "cute" when he experiences outcomes due to the situation he was in. Whenever he doesn't understand social cues, i.e., "Whos mark." People giggling and saying it's silly or cute when he doesn't understand the cues. That's infantilizating! You are viewing things he struggles with in the lens of watching a child understanding the world. Which Wylan isn't. He is a teenager, no matter the circumstances. His age should be understood.

This infantilization also effects wesper in how people view the two of them. Many people view black people as "older, the man in the relationship, rugged" while the white person is seen as the "women, younger, more innocent."

Infact, I think the show only worsned it for Wylan. As now there are faces to names.

Jack does have a youthful face, but still looks his age. I have a babyface and even now at 20 I look much older then I did at 16. The same goes for Jack. He cant control how he looks but because of his youthful features people only push for this racially hetaronormative mindset more between Wylan and Jesper (Even if its untitional).

Even Kit looks his age as well and has a baby face. He's 29 right now but was in his mid twenties during filming. Season 1 was filmed back in 2019 but due to covid post production got set back, and season 2 was filmed in the beginning of 2022. But why is it only Wylan who is infantilizated? Jesper struggles just as much with his ADHD and trauma as Wylan does.

Jack and Kit are only one year apart, the same in the books but still ive been Wylan be portrayed as the "poor innocent child who was abused." and Jesper as the "he needs to get over his addiction hes a grown man/ he's too mean to Wylan."

In society now so many black teens are seen as adults and treated as such, while white teens are seen as younger and not pushed so hard. The same can be seen for wesper.

Ive even seen people on Tiktok and other socials claim that Jesper was rude to Wylan and abusive. (WHERE???). Both Wylan and Jesper have said things that hurt the other, and they both apologized for it, and get grilled as well. In the show and books they learn and grow. The infantilization of Wylan doesnt hurt just him but plays into racial stereotypes and also microagressions. Why is it that when the white character is calling someone out its "deserved" but when the black character (who might I add had no idea) makes a side comment he is labled as cruel and abusive?

In so many shows and books the black character is usually portrayed as the joker character. Six Of Crows does this as well, which is something important to not ingore. Jesper is seen as the flirty joke character. However the only difference is soc also show more sides to his character by letting him be vulnerable. Letting Jesper show his struggles to the audience as well, how his neurodivergece effects him, letting him dress in skirts and bold colors that step away from the gender norm. So many times in media the black character is just there for shits and giggles, or is used as the villan/antagonist.

It believe its really important to understand this, and to acknowledge if your infantilizating him, or even using microagressions on Jesper unintentionally, then to learn to understand why and to grow from them.

[zykamiliah]

So we know SQQ uses The Wives/The Women as a stand-in to talk around his attraction to Binghe, but another thing SQQ does is use the Original Shen Qingqiu as a way to talk around his own personality, (negative) emotions, and even self-esteem, either by contrasting himself against him, or by finding similarities. It makes a lot of sense, since he's inhabiting the body of the original, the person he needs to, to a certain point, imitate to survive.

From the very beginning, SQQ finds similarities between o!SQQ and him, and says he doesn't get why someone with reputation, good cultivation and the biggest sect backing him up would be so envious of other people's potential to the point of scheming against them. The Original Shen Qingqiu was not satisfied with the things he has and instead of idling his life away, like Shen Yuan in his previous life, he's digging his own grave.

When rummaging through the carriage interior, SQQ finds a lot of stuff that was frankly unnecessary to take on such a short trip, like "five or six different tea sets". And noting this, SQQ thinks,

No matter that in his past life he could have counted as a wealthy second-gen, he still hadn’t been this pointlessly indulgent in his pursuit of first-world affluenza, okay? (Chapter 1: Scum)

He's saying, "unlike him, i wasn't needlessly indulgent".

Another example is when he compares his own competency to that of O!SQQ. He does this a few times in the first volume.

The original Shen Qingqiu’s skill at facing down demons should have made this quest as easy as killing a chicken with a knife. Shamefully, the knife had failed to even hit the chicken. In seconds, Shen Qingqiu discovered something that made his mood even worse. (Chapter 2: Mission)

In other words, "unlike the original goods, I am so uncool right now". But the best thing about this part is that... it puts SQQ in a bad mood. I want to call attention to the fact that he feels shame for failing, for being being weak when he should be strong. Shame doesn't come out of nowhere.

Rereading this volume and noticing this few hints of his character and emotions really challenge the notion that SQQ/SY is just an easygoing person. There's a lot of mental gymnastics being performed so he doesn't have to confront his own emotions. If the unreliable narrator tells me he's easygoing, should I believe him? I am questioning everything he says until it's confirmed by his actions.

Now, going back to how he uses o!SQQ to talk about his own competency, and most important, how he feels about being competent, strong, etc.

Surrounded by the cheers of the sect’s disciples, Shen Qingqiu attained a complete victory in the first match.

At this moment, Shen Qingqiu realized why the original flavor had clung to being a poser like it was his lifeline—it was unbelievably satisfying. (Chapter 2: Mission)

Why is it so hard to say "being cool feels so so good"? Being admired, strong and capable is something he comes to enjoy, and I wonder about Shen Yuan, and what was his life like. Why does he have to use o!SQQ to open a sentence about why being "a poser" feels good. He won't say he himself is a bit of a poser, or that it feels good to be cool.

The original flavor pushed Luo Binghe onto the battlefield because he was shameless! He didn’t care about the sect’s reputation! He hated Luo Binghe to the bone, enough to want to vicariously torture him via the hands of demons!

The current Shen Qingqiu didn’t share any of those three motives! (Chapter 2: Mission)

SQQ is not shameless, in fact there's a lot of shame in him. He cares about the sect's reputation, even if he's been in PIDW for, what, a few months? And most of that time he spent it in a cave cultivating. I wonder why he latched himself to the sect so quickly? As if a part of him always wanted a place to belong to, be part of, play an important role, a place he could contribute to.

“Do you think that the burden of peak lord will be too heavy, Qingqiu?” asked Yue Qingyuan.

The original Shen Qingqiu would most likely have suspected that Yue Qingyuan was trying to undermine his authority or something of that sort. However, the current Shen Qingqiu knew that Yue Qingyuan was genuinely worried about him overworking himself and damaging his health(...) (Chapter 3: Favor Points)

He's saying: "unlike him, i don't misunderstand people", which is... clearly not the truth, but he doesn't know that. SQQ thinks he has a pretty good grasp about people's intentions and that he's good judge of character.

All that said, the quote that actually made me connect the dots about how SQQ invokes the original to talk around his own emotions is this one, when they're facing MBJ:

“Unusually inferior talent,” [Mobei-Jun] said. “Foundation and techniques inflexible. Leave.”

Shen Qingqiu said nothing.

He wasn’t some unmatched genius in the Human Realm, but his talent was still at least one in a thousand. And Cang Qiong Mountain’s foundation and techniques weren’t inflexible, they were orthodox! Mobei-Jun still described them as he would a pile of garbage. If the original Shen Qingqiu had heard this, he would have coughed up three liters of blood and run away crying to make a voodoo doll. (Chapter 4: Conference)

But wait, that first sentence kind of sounds familiar, doesn't it?

From early on, he’d known that even if he idled the rest of his life away, he’d never want for food. Perhaps due to this carefree upbringing, devoid of either competition or pressure, he came to believe that ranking in the top ten of a competition was good enough, so long as it had more than ten people. (Chapter 1: Scum)

He's saying "as long as I score among the best I don't have to be a top ranker". Like, if he's comparing himself to others, he won't feel bad because he's not at the bottom. He's average, and average is good, right? Like a "at least I passed the test, I don't need a top score" type of thinking. It feels like something he'd tell himself to feel better about his own performance.

The middle child, saying that as long as he has an average rank everything is fine? Hahaha. Yeah ok, Shen Yuan. (wtf are you hidinnnng)

But I want to draw your attention to this sentence

If the original Shen Qingqiu had heard this, he would have coughed up three liters of blood and run away crying to make a voodoo doll.

because it's so fascinating how SQQ is mentally incapable of admitting to himself that his pride has been hurt by MBJ's words. He feels insulted, and he channels that emotion by projecting his feelings on and picturing what the original would feel in that situation.

Oh, but zy, isn't this just SQQ's humorous running commentary on everything that happens to him? Maybe he's not really upset about what Mobei-Jun said about him having "unusually inferior talent".

Nope. He's really, really pissed off

Just as the sword array was about to come down like sheets of rain, Shen Qingqiu snarled within his heart.

I’ve done my best, but he still thinks I’m low-level trash, so what can I do?!

How loathsome! If I have to die, couldn’t it at least be in a better-looking way? After being stabbed with hundreds of black swords, I’m going to be a sieve! Who could bear to look?!

He SNARLED in his heart. MBJ didn't call him low-level trash, he did that himself. It pisses him off that he's going to die in such an uncool way that will leave him looking like an ugly bloody pulp.

Is this really a guy that doesn't care about his reputation or how he looks to others, that calls himself an "easygoing person"????

This is a guy that has had to repress every emotion related to his own pride and self-esteem. And this is something he was doing in his previous life. Again, what the fuck was going on with the Shen family?!

I don't think this is the way a man that is satisfied with his lot in life would think.

Shen Qingqiu was a man of few needs; he would have been satisfied just idling away to a ripe old age. In that way, it wouldn’t be that different from how his previous life had been going.

youre LIYING. I'm not going to trust anything you said about yourself EVER AGAIN. you were so satisfied to "idle your life away" you died from eating expired yogurt! you were clearly repressed and depressed and unhappy and pretending to be okay!

[m1ckeyb3rry]

CHAPTER FOUR WAS SO GOOD UGHH literally the only fanfic I have ever loved so much and wait for updates like this. Am so excited for the next one!!!

On the topic of finally opening requests, I was wondering if I could ask for head-canons of what a relationship with Seishiro and a female reader would be like. If we want to be specific, maybe related to the fanfic? Like, how you would imagine their relationship would have been like back when they were still in high school, young and with Nagi’s past soccer career and all. Don’t feel pressured to write this, and good luck with everything!😽😽

── DATING NAGI!

Synopsis: Headcanons about having Seishiro Nagi as your boyfriend.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Nagi x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Content Warnings: none really, just generally fluffy and silly

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON i hope you like where i go w the story in the future!! and hehe now that we’re in the past arc of peregrine you will actually get to see all of the nitty gritty details of their relationship in the fic itself so i won’t spoil it 🤫 but i love nagi ofc so i’ve added some general headcanons on what i think he would be like as a bf

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

no matter how the two of you get together, reo is somehow involved LMAOAOAO like bro is ALWAYS at the scene of the crime in some way shape or form just because i don’t think nagi would really pick up on the fact that he has a crush on you without outside intervention

it would also definitely be a jump scare when he confesses!! you would have zero idea it’s coming because he literally hasn’t changed how he acts towards you whatsoever

canonically he doesn’t really interact with a lot of people or have a lot of friends and he’s not aggressive with romance so i just don’t think he’d really know what the appropriate method of telling someone you like them is

would probably say some shit like “reo says i have a crush on you” and would be so nonchalant about it meanwhile you’re like “???” because you did not even realize he knew your name and also why is reo being brought up

i honestly think he would not be a bad boyfriend. yes he is lazy and unmotivated but he does what he needs to do and if something is important to him he generally puts in effort for it

that’s another reason why it would take him foreverrr to ask you out — he would have to like you enough that he realizes he does in fact want to have a relationship with you even if it is a hassle

he doesn’t have social media though so don’t expect there to be an official announcement that you guys are together or anything like that HAHA

he would probably forget to tell anyone that the two of you are dating and it’s not because he’s ashamed of you or is trying to hide you or anything he literally just does not care what other people think and would prefer not to talk them if possible so it never comes up

you’ll show up to an event with him and everyone’s like “omg nagi who is this” and he’s like “this is my girlfriend” and someone (probably otoya tbh) is like “since when have you had a girlfriend” and he’s like “it’s been two years 😐”

i think he would be fire at insulting people just because of how many video games he plays…that man has seen some of the worst sides of humanity

the world is lucky he’s a pacifist and avoids conflict because he has some vile stuff stored away (i will never be over him asking barou if he practiced kneeling because he’s about to make him his servant)

this particular quality makes him the BEST person to talk shit with

he’s not a gossipy boyfriend in the sense that he doesn’t have anything juicy of his own to contribute to the conversation but i’m pretty sure he mentioned he watches dramas at one point so you know he’s locked tf in if you need to complain abt someone

he will sit there and be so invested in the tea…def would not give any useful advice but he will make fun of anyone bothering you so you still end up feeling better

i don’t think he would get jealous honestly

the thought of you cheating on him doesn’t cross his mind at all because why would he date someone he didn’t trust fully???

i would say he expects the same from you because he would but at the same time he voluntarily talks to one (1) other person besides you and that’s reo so the opportunity for you to be jealous just wouldn’t even crop up

definitely super clingy and cuddly

loves being babied too

according to epnagi he has this whole automatic system in his apartment to clean and do laundry and i think he’d be fine if you appropriate that so no more cleaning!! but you will have to cook because that man literally only eats fruit jellies

genuinely how is he so built and not dying of malnutrition SKJFDSHKJ

he probably is terrible at coming up with date ideas so it’s up to you to plan things

again it’s not malicious i think for him just spending time with you is his ideal date!! like he doesn’t see the point in getting dressed up and going somewhere fancy when you could just eat at home and be comfortable together

but if it’s an important day or you tell him that you want him to suggest something for once, he WILL go all out (which means calling reo for advice and doing what he tells him to)

overall communication is key with him. he’s not particularly sensitive or in tune with other people’s emotions so being passive aggressive or expecting him to read your mind will honestly just end up making your mood worse because he will not pick up on the fact that something is wrong

but if you tell him what you want him to change he will happily do it!! he just needs to be told very clearly if you’re upset or need him to do something different

honestly it would be very refreshing. there are zero games with nagi and he doesn’t really try to hide anything — what you see is what you get 100% of the time

overall 10/10 would date idc haters dni he’s a sweetheart and he’s doing his best