#i used it to find posts Not from mutuals. what is the point. its just like following page... 2! or something

[ishinmaiden]

why on earth is the for you page now mixed with like, normal mutual dashboard posts

[xo100]

hi can i have a request a story about life where lando and his ex finally get back together again 🥹

Unfinished business- LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1581

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

Lando Norris didn’t mean to fall in love with her. Not really. It just happened somewhere between late-night calls from different parts of the world and the quiet mornings they shared over coffee, bleary-eyed and content. For two years, they had built something beautiful. Something fragile. And like many fragile things, it shattered.

It had been a year since they parted ways. A quiet, mutual decision born from exhaustion, distance, and the demands of their individual lives. She had her career, a demanding one that required its own brand of discipline and attention. And Lando, of course, was always on the move, his life dictated by the calendar of Formula 1. It wasn't anyone's fault. There was no dramatic fight, no harsh words. Just the aching realization that, for now, their lives didn’t fit together the way they once had.

So they let go. They hugged each other goodbye in her quiet London flat, the kind of hug that lingered a little too long, with an unspoken understanding that maybe this wasn’t forever, that maybe one day they would find their way back to each other.

A year had passed since that night.

-

She scrolled through her Instagram feed absentmindedly, stopping when she saw his latest post—a sun-drenched photo of Lando standing by his car, all wide smiles and windswept hair. Her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating, before double-tapping. The small heart icon appeared, a familiar pang settling in her chest. It had become a ritual at this point—liking his posts, reading his captions, sometimes even dropping a comment when she felt brave enough. And he did the same, always. As if this silent conversation on social media was their only connection left.

She never stopped missing him. Some days it was just a quiet hum in the background of her life, a dull ache that she had grown used to. Other days, it hit her like a wave, out of nowhere, leaving her breathless and wondering how she had ever let him go.

On the other side of the world, Lando felt the same. He never admitted it out loud, not even to his closest friends, but she was never far from his thoughts. He found himself checking his phone too often, waiting for those tiny signs that she was still there, still watching, still caring. Every time her name appeared in his notifications—whether it was a simple like or a playful comment—his heart gave a small, traitorous leap.

They weren’t together anymore, but they were never really apart.

-

The first time they saw each other again after the breakup, it was at a race. Lando had known she might be there, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment their eyes met across the paddock. For a split second, the world around him seemed to blur, everything but her fading away. She looked the same but different—more poised, more confident, but with that same light in her eyes that had always drawn him in.

Her heart stuttered when she saw him, the familiar ache resurfacing. God, he looked good. The year had been kind to him. His hair was longer, his smile somehow brighter. But there was something else, something in the way his eyes softened when they landed on her.

They didn’t approach each other right away. Both too unsure of what to say, too aware of the unresolved feelings still hanging between them like a weight neither could lift. But eventually, they found themselves standing side by side, in the way that used to be so natural. And for a moment, it almost felt like old times.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the paddock.

“Hey,” she replied, her heart racing.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy. Heavy with everything unsaid, everything they had tried to bury over the past year.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, though the question felt painfully inadequate.

“Good. Busy, you know… work and everything,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit he remembered all too well.

“Yeah… same.” He gave a small nod, eyes searching her face for something—anything—that would tell him if she had moved on. If she had forgotten him.

But she hadn’t. And neither had he.

-

The weeks after that encounter were… confusing, to say the least. They started texting again, slowly at first. Just little things—a funny meme, a quick ‘good luck’ before his races, or a random thought that reminded her of him. But it quickly became more than that. The conversations stretched longer, the topics more personal. They talked about the things they hadn’t talked about during their relationship—how hard it had been to let go, how much they missed each other, how they hadn’t really stopped caring.

One night, after a long conversation, Lando found himself staring at his phone long after the screen had gone dark. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t keep pretending that he was okay without her. He had tried. God, he had tried. But no matter how many races he won, no matter how many new cities he visited, there was always this empty space where she used to be.

And she felt it too. Every time she saw his name light up her phone, her heart leapt. Every time she saw a post of his, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to reach out and just say it—to admit that she still loved him.

The breaking point came on a rainy night in London, when the loneliness felt unbearable. She was scrolling through her messages with him, re-reading old texts from when they were still together. Before she could overthink it, she sent a message.

I miss you.

-

Lando’s phone buzzed on his nightstand, the soft glow cutting through the darkness of his hotel room. He reached for it, half-asleep, but when he saw her name, he was suddenly wide awake. He stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, his heart racing.

He had missed her too. Every single day.

Before he could second-guess himself, he typed a response.

I miss you too.

The three little dots that indicated she was typing appeared, then disappeared, and then appeared again. Finally, another message came through.

Can we talk? In person?

His heart skipped a beat.

Yes. When?

-

They met in a small café, tucked away from the prying eyes of the world. It was quiet, intimate, the kind of place where people went to have real conversations. The kind of place where they had once spent hours together, laughing and talking about nothing and everything.

When she walked in, Lando felt like the air had been knocked out of him. She looked nervous, just like he felt. But there was something else in her eyes too—hope.

They sat down, and for a few moments, neither of them spoke. It was like they were both afraid to say the wrong thing, to shatter the delicate balance they had found themselves in.

“I don’t know where to start,” she admitted with a small laugh, breaking the tension.

Lando smiled softly, his fingers tapping lightly against the side of his coffee cup. “I’ve been trying to figure that out too.”

They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable this time. It was just… heavy. With everything they had left unsaid over the past year. Finally, Lando looked up, his voice quiet but steady.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” he said, his words hanging in the air between them. “I tried to move on, I really did. But no matter what, it always came back to you.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked away, blinking back tears. “I haven’t been able to move on either,” she whispered. “I thought… I thought maybe it was just me, that maybe I was holding onto something that was already gone.”

“It’s not gone,” Lando said firmly, reaching across the table to take her hand in his. “It never was.”

For a long moment, they just sat there, holding each other’s gaze, holding each other’s hands, letting the weight of their feelings settle between them.

“I still love you,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I never stopped.”

“I love you too,” Lando replied, his thumb gently brushing against her skin. “I never stopped.”

-

The decision to get back together wasn’t made in that moment. They knew it wouldn’t be that simple. There were still challenges to face, still things they needed to figure out. But what they both knew for sure was that they couldn’t keep pretending anymore. They couldn’t keep acting like they were better off apart, because they weren’t. Not really.

The rest of that night was spent talking, laughing, and crying. They laid everything out on the table—the fears, the regrets, the hopes for the future. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real, and it was honest.

When they finally left the café, the rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and glistening under the soft glow of the streetlights. Lando walked her to her car, his hand never leaving hers. And when they reached it, he hesitated for a moment before pulling her into his arms.

“I’m not letting you go again,” he murmured against her hair.

She smiled, burying her face in his chest. “Good. Because I don’t want to go.”

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love��s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!

*:･ﾟtags; @spookbusters-jr

[gyuswhore]

the story of us ✦ j.w.w x reader

the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now - the story of us

synopsis: So many walls that you can't break through; except you do.

wc: 2.1K

contains: best friends to lovers, angst, fluff, humour, happy ending, alcohol, arguments

masterlist

Support creators by reblogging!

[a/n]: im exhausted, im loopy, im hungry, but i really wanted to post this so here you go my babies I'm sorry i haven't fed you in so long (ty @toruro for making sure i wasn't talking out of my ass in this ily)

[edit; 11/04/24]: grammar and spelling.

Jeon Wonwoo was nearing boiling point when he watched you push him away from yet another conversation.

He tried to understand, just like he always had. But it was proving near impossible at the five-month mark. 

There were clear signs you exhibited when you needed space, for whatever reason, Wonwoo knew you would tell him when you recovered. So he gave you what you needed.

And yet, when he finds himself pushed away from what looks like a casual conversation between your mutual friends, he finds his mild annoyance grow into something hotter. 

There’s a clench in his jaw as he tries not to squeeze the red cup in his hand with too much pressure, even when all the spiteful bit of his brain wants to do is to pour its pigmented contents all over your cream outfit. He manages to control himself, choosing to get up and exit the premises entirely. In complete silence, he refuses to acknowledge any yell of his name from passing acquaintances. 

Jeon Wonwoo refused to respond to any of your advances after that. 

Invitations to lunch were left on a jarring sent, the notification sitting in his log until he chooses to open it too late. His response was bare when you asked for help on some accounting concepts, pushing you over into Jihoon’s hands to fulfill your requirements. There’s a blatant shrug when you touch his shoulder, concerned, asking why his behaviour had become so distant in the past weeks; he responds with a mumble of, “just tired”.

The great divide happened a few days proceeding your birthday, one for which Wonwoo did nothing for but send you a quick message during the evening, never to see you throughout the extended day. 

“I can’t believe you’re putting this on me!” you all but yell, eyes wide and expression exasperated at the situation.

“Are you blind? Or just plain stupid? Because I didn’t tolerate months of your shit attitude to have you say it isn’t your fault.” Wonwoo is breathing heavily, hands motioning towards your entire figure with equal disbelief.

“What attitude?” you emphasize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I couldn’t be upfront with my best friend.”

“There’s a difference between being in a mood and blatant disrespect. I’m tired of having to put up with your mood swings like it’s my responsibility to coddle you. When was the last time you genuinely asked me how I was doing?”

“All the time!”

“Yeah, after you realize there's nobody else to whine and wail to!”

“Wonwoo, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Fine. If I’m clearly so unhinged, I’ll leave you to your liking.” 

The dwindled interactions, from messages to hellos, went from sparing to nonexistent — just like that. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t expect for you and Wonwoo to reconcile in the matter of a few days, if not a couple weeks.

But when the distance did nothing but grow larger, there was a settle of resentment in the pit of your stomach as you accepted the feud you were in. 

A text was sent from your phone a couple days after the incident.

[You]: can we talk?

But when you see no sign of the grey Delivered on the end, you knew he had blocked you. 

This was all nothing less than baffling to you for a number of reasons, starting with how you had never witnessed Wowoo acting this way. 

Wonwoo had done nothing but reprimand you the rare chance you suggested blocking an apprehensive individual, something about not showing that you cared. His voice seemed redundant after a certain decibel, the rarest chance to witness him yell at a failed video game or a frustrating professor. 

You know better, which is the only reason you’re ruling off paranormal possession. 

The claims against you came as an afterthought, not, however, rendering them any less strange. There’s a part of you that pondered if your shield of annoyance blocked you from seeing the truth in his words and in your behaviour, finding yourself overwhelmed with emotions when the thought crossed your mind, tears of frustration immediately blurring your vision. 

You did not understand, you could not. And when it all got too much, you allowed the hurt and confusion to turn into something more dangerous. You replaced it with anger, in the same place that once occupied a more delicate emotion. 

There was an uproar in Wonwoo’s mind when he sees you walk into the lecture hall, unaware of your overlapping schedule in the new semester. He watches as your eyes pass over the moderately packed space, briefly glancing over where he sat; if you saw him, you did nothing to bring a reaction out of it. You take a seat a few rows up front, right in front of him where he’s able to see the back of your head for the next two hours — for the rest of the semester. 

He wonders if it’s too late to switch classes. 

“Wonwoo, I honestly think this is getting out of hand.” Jihoon munches on his cashews, leaning against bark of the tree they were both sat under. 

“Did you want me to keep tending to her bullshit then?” he grumbles.

“That’s not what I’m saying, you know it’s not.”

“That’s what it sounds like.” Wonwoo’s retort is brisk.

Jihoon is suddenly snapping his fingers in his face at the reply, a flinch accompanies Wonwoo’s already sour expression. 

“See! See how frustrating it is when somebody isn’t making sense?” 

“How does this—” 

“Wonwoo, did you try talking to her about how you felt, you know, without the screaming?” 

Jihoon watches as Wonwoo’s expression clears out, his eyebrows unfurrowing and the scowl fading. He doesn’t speak, choosing to let the realization kick in.

“No.” 

Jihoon sighs, taking another pause. “I’m not saying what she did wasn’t uncalled for, but you need to talk shit out before deciding you hate each other.”

“I don’t hate her.”

“Right, so can we wrap this up quickly and have you confess your undying love so we can all relax.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Heat crawls up Wonwoo’s cheeks.

“What? If you don’t hate her, it’s gotta be the opposite.”

Did Wonwoo like you? Yeah, he probably did. Did he ever let himself ponder upon it? No, because he was downright mortified of the mere thought. He finds himself a hypocrite to say it was to preserve your friendship, but he figures he’s fucked it up in a way that’s arguably worse. 

Regardless, Wonwoo walks away from that conversation with two things: a stark realization, and an even starker admittance. 

Everything was going wrong. At least that’s what it felt like when you hear the clang of your water bottle hit the pavement, rolling off into the oncoming traffic as you sprint to grab it. You nearly cause a vehicle pile-up, swallowing a couple profanities from braking drivers. 

You’re stuffing the darn thing into your bag when you trip on a loose brick on the path, nearly landing on your face. The glare you send into the pavement costs you even more when a hard shoulder bumps into your side, sending you another couple steps back. You don’t bother to see who the perpetrator is, too preoccupied with your attempts to take in deeper breaths amid the blankness of your mind. 

There are no hiccups after that, what you might owe your more conscious mind to. Stomping up the library steps, you thank nothingness for the air conditioning that meets your hot face, slowing down as you take in the crowd. 

Scanning the room for an empty seat is harder than you’d anticipated, hoping the heat would keep students away from the building as you left to get work done. Approaching a table, you set down your bag with a huff, pulling the chair out to finally take the seat you’ve been needing for so long. 

The universe seems to have other plans. 

It’s almost funny the way you and Wonwoo make eye contact across the other table, the recognition sending a jolt through your stomach. 

You’ve never moved so fast, pushing the chair back in with a screech that earns you a few looks, grabbing the handles of your bag as you turn around to leave the building you’d just entered. 

No way you'd sit there. Not when he was around.

You're bounding down the steps when somebody passes you, murmuring something without slowing their stride.

“I’m leaving, you can go inside,” Wonwoo says, and the sound of his voice has you halting almost immediately.

Whipping your head around to search for the sound, you watch as he takes a turn at the end of the steps, slowly moving out of your vision. 

There’s a swirl of something in your chest, and you realise in that moment how much you missed hearing his voice. 

Chiding yourself, you blink back the water that wells up in your eyes, embarrassed at how quickly you were losing yourself.

But the damage was done. And you wanted to be reckless, regardless of how desperate it made you look. A split second decision is made in that moment, one that lightens the heavy feet that you’ve planted on the concrete. 

You’re back to bounding down the steps, but this time with aim. 

Taking the same turn you saw Wonwoo take, you break into a sprint as you see his figure move farther away. You keep running, continuing to bump into both objects and people, hurried "sorry"'s the only thing you choose to throw their way. 

“Wonwoo!” Your voice comes out stronger than you’d intended, the sharpness having him turn around in search, eyes landing on your accelerating figure. 

Both of you realize too late how fast you’re really going, the velocity taking you directly into his outstretched arms, hands grasping the sleeves of his shirt as you come to screeching stop directly into his chest. 

You don’t have the time nor the patience to be embarrassed, pulling your face back to look directly into Wonwoo’s bewildered eyes to huff out your next words.

“Why did you block me?” you ask, voice gruff and slightly out of breath.

Wonwoo’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, words refusing to come out. 

“Why are you so mad at me? Why are you being nice to me if you’re mad at me?” You don’t stop, the direct questions tumbling off your tongue in desperation. 

You search his face for an answer when his mouth fails, but all you find is the remnants of shock yet to ebb away. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t important, I’m sorry for taking your presence for granted, I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry for…for… I don’t know! I’m just really sorry and I don't know how else to make this right.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you hear him say and you feel the moisture return to your eyes. 

“Huh?”

“I should’ve…” he pauses, looking sheepish. “I should’ve talked to you before I, y’know, went off on you. I should’ve managed my feelings better, I’m sorry.” 

You're silent for a few tantalizing moments before you raise your fists, and pound down on his chest with everything you have. You do it again, and then again, and again—

“What?- Ow!” 

“When are you gonna stop bottling up your feelings for fucks sake, it’s landed you everywhere but good!” you say, nearly yelling.

Wonwoo whips his head around to see who’s listening, palm to mouth in attempts to silence you. 

“I’m sorry! I know! I’m working on it,” he rambles, trying to get you to quit struggling. “Jihoon and I talked, that’s why I realised I was being dumb.”

“Are you gonna unblock me now or do I need to pay Jihoon to sit down with you again?”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrow. “You payed Jihoon to sit with me?”

“No, you idiot. But I should have because you can’t seem to figure out how to feel emotions.” 

Wonwoo can’t help himself when he breaks out into a grin, letting out a breathy chuckle that has you asking “What?”.

He pulls you in, heart to heart in an embrace, holding you tight to make up for the weeks of no contact. He breathes in your scent and feels as though he hasn’t in years. 

“I’m not gonna come running up to you the next time you decide you hate me,” you mumble into his shoulder, pouting slightly.

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“No.” Wonwoo pulls away but keeps you in his arms, looking at you, “I love you. Like, the kind of stuff that makes you wanna live together forever. I love you.” 

It’s your turn to gape like a fish. 

“W-what?”

“You told me not to bottle up my feelings.” 

“Yeah, but—wow, um.” 

“Did I make another mistake?” 

No! You wanted to scream. But you don’t. You instead lift your hands up to come around his face, cradling it. And you kissed him. 

“I love you, too. Like the live together forever kind.” 

[theoddest1]

Let's Actually Talk About The Issues With Vivziepop

Okay, first off, hello you beautiful people! Sorry about this foreboding title, but I needed to catch y'all attention on this so I can break down the issues that I and many have with "Hazbin Hotel" and "Helluva Boss" creator, Vivienne Medrano. Now I am sure you all on here are already aware of at least a couple of the controversies that revolve around this particular creator and if you have seen my posts floating around already, some have been greeted with the problems surrounding her social media presence and just her overall as a person. I know seeing another callout on her seems very very tiring at this point, but I felt that a lot of the current callouts missed key details that were not at all addressed or properly delved on. I plan on shedding light on my issues with her and I hope you get where I am coming from when I say that she sucks.

BULLYING

Okay, I am starting off with Vivienne's blatant use of bully mentality, her agreeing or encouraging her fans to call people who see flaws in her works sub-humans or harass those who find issue or simply jest about her works trademark cussing and and overcrowded designs. She has had this issue for YEARS and refuses to grow up and act her age despite many telling her, even her own fans at times, that she shouldn't be acting so unprofessionally. Clearly, she doesn't care and thanks to her fanbase caring more about her feelings than her being better she feels as though she doesn't need to change or do better. This goes for her friend group as well, who defend her tremendously and act as though she is never in the wrong. Name one time a friend of hers called her out for acting childish, I'll wait.

Now, you're probably wondering, "Wtf could they have done to warrant such a response?"

Criticism...That's all they did. (White Text is random peeps they would speak with or maybe mutuals)

Keep in mind...they used to be a fan as well. They were also a minor at this point

But, Viv doesn't care, this person's critical yet harmless tweets about her shows is what lead to her painting them in a horrible light and making them out to be someone who has attacked her personally and as "nasty".

Rich coming from Viv since she is completely fine doing exactly that for "Ava's Demon". Not only does she criticize it, she takes a shot at the creator as well, but GOD FORBID others do the same towards her.

And according to someone who knew her well, it's all cause they felt creeped out by her.

Her hatred for criticism is so prominent that Ima makes that a section of its own. But let's get back on the topic of bullying.

Vivienne has a fanbase filled to the brim with pushy and overall annoying individuals who have harassed, threatened, disrespected, and wished harm on many people, all cause someone had a negative thing to say about Vivziepop's mid af show. One of the earlier known instances is the one revolving around a MEME of all things.

This was what started it all, and it led to both parties blocking each other and people being mad pushy and calling them an idiot and the like over their opinions. Now look, their take and you're opinion on said take is fine so long as you stay respectful and humane about it all, but don't dogpike someone all cause they think HH sucks. And while Viv can not control her fanbase, for they are not a hivemind (some of y'all act it tho, ima keep it real) she is seen here ENCOURAGING the behavior. Tell me how someone who doesn't even like your trash ass show has the sense to tell people not to harass others, someone with a smaller following, but not your grown damn near 30 year old ass?

Oh, but people wanna act like she can handle criticism, is a sweet person, and grew from her past experiences. Fam, she was 27 in this screenshot [December 16, 2019] and has shown no change from 2013 to fucking 2024. Over a decade of the same petty ass behavior, and keep in mind, according to several of her old friends and workers, she is worse behind close doors. WORSE. She's already acting like she got no damn sense out in the open, imagine behind closed doors.

Last but not least, a glimpse into her outright blatant slander towards Dollcreep, a once good friend of hers that she even visited and spoke with frequently!

She stated that they fetishized pedophilia yet according to the victim and friends of the victim who were once friends with Viv as well, Viv actually threatened to end their friendship if he hadn't drawn NSFW art of her character and his character having sex [Addi was 15 at the time this was drawn]

On top of that, she liked the post, something she didn't need to do. The art also depicted things she had regularly drawn on her own. Addi being tied up forcefully, being sexualized, being harmed to some degree through bondage, etc. The claim that she forced DC to draw this out is backed up by her own art depicting similar elements. Also, if my memory serves me well, Viv and Doll were 17-18 years old [Doll was 17 Viv 18] and have a 1-year age gap. The way Viv frames things here is as if DC was way older and imposed some sort of power over DC, which sources say otherwise. If anything, Viv had a LOT of control throughout all of this drama, which deserves its own section.

I'll be making posts that talk about the different issues regarding Viv, so one post isn't too long (this one is already lengthy enough) and that you can just pick at one post targeting certain issues around this creator.

[staarboyyy]

Necessary evils | Negotiations chapter ii

Ben [ Soldier boy ] x reader | no pronouns

explicit - minors dni

tags / warnings ; dubcon, reader has vagina, intoxication, weed use, cocaine mentions, slight angst, porn with a plot, destructive mutualization, lap sitting, pleasure denial, grinding ("the knee thing"), slight underwear fetish, m!masturbation, couch sex, free use elements, creampie, verbal threats, reader takes initiative (aka fucks around and finds out, with feelings!), is soldier boy a warning? if so, soldier boy antics!,

summary ; after the night in the alley, you cant help but wonder caused it all.

word count ; 5.3k

a/n ; [ Reposted with a full ending and edits ! Thank you for the support, even on accidental posts :"D] can be a stand-alone fic, but really meant to be a chapter 2 for my first fic on tumblr, Negotiations <3 thank you all for 200 followers, ill never be able to express the gratitude in my heart that has flourished in this community!! heres to writing format improvement, cheers! *tink!

Ben grunted as he pushed himself from the creaky motel couch, sighing quietly while his eyes scanned the room silently - As he landed on a small shoe box pushed underneath a desk, he bent at the waist to grab ahold of it, sliding it out with a hum. Upon flipping open the lip in time with sitting back down on the couch, made way for the harsh and bitter smell of weed and tobacco. His large hands sifted through the different items, plucking a glass pipe and grinder from the box and setting it next to him. The motions of this gave way for a strange familiarity, the smell, and movements of packing the bowl reminding him of hiding weed from his father decades ago. He was always insistent a boy like him should be 'straight-edge', clean, and practically from marble. He gave a quiet chuckle as he brought the pipe to his lips, glancing up at the ceiling. Before down towards the floor. No way in God's green earth had his father made it into Heaven. He gave a light stomp as he flicked the lighter over the bowl - It was muscle memory, though since his father died he made it a point that he'd never rest, not even after death. With a gracious inhale, Ben's lungs filled with smoke, pulling down the thickening barriers of his throat, mind reeling black and white grainy family photos. It made him sick to dwell on his family. Though the exhale cut sharp through his lips, throat stiffening at the burn that sliced that part away from him. He went in for another, heel coming down once more to thump against the floorboards, a smirk now pulling at the corners of his lips. Smoke filled the apartment, not unusual for this time of night, even as it made its way into your sleeping nostrils.

Working with Hughie and Butcher was not your intent. You told yourself this, as you watched the two men unfold into animals, lacing their arms with bands and injecting temp v at any opportune moment. It made it difficult to sleep, knowing the two were out at night, rampaging the streets in hopes of finding Soldier Boy's past team; And also the tense presence of Ben sitting on the couch, just a foot or two away. You stirred at the strong smell, shifting slightly as you adjust yourself on the worn-in couch, propping your elbow up on the armrest with a soft grimace. It wasn't comfortable by any means, but the exhaustion of the day had hit you like a freight train.

"How long was I out?"

"An hour or two. You fuckin' crashed, figured you'd need it."

Nights such as these came with a sense of peace; Like a lion and crane feeding at a watering hole, side by side with eyes unwavering as you do what they must to get by. The peace was faint, gritty between Ben's fingers as he packed a bowl down gently, shifting his jaw. He brought the lighter up to the pipe once again before his eyes set on you- The bowl sizzled as he inhaled, smoke drifting from his nostrils as he effortlessly pulled from the pipe, puffing it as if it were a cigar. His next motion came at a strange interception of his mind and body, hand moving to offer the lit pipe towards you. He gave no words, though it seemed he wouldn't have been able to conduct them into genuine conversation nonetheless.

Typically, you'd shake your head, or wave your hand, leaving the Supe to his devices - Though, the crickets shrouded the night air, pulsating through the thin windows and swelling at the shine of the moon, thick clouds parting like curtains to expose the soft light. This wasn't a night typical for you. You reached out, pursing your lips slightly as his rough skin grazed yours, his thumb lingering on your smaller fingers for a few moments. You tentatively brought the pipe to your lips, eyes casting over the man; He looked painfully human like this, relaxing back into the couch, spreading his thighs with a grunt as he looked back toward you quizzically. You pulled from the pipe, thumb pressing against the small hole, releasing as the bowl crackled a hot orange. The smoke cut down your throat in a harsh wave, coasting over your muscles with a hitched breath as your grip on the pipe tightened slightly, tears wetting the corners of your lashes at the fire lit in your lungs and throat. The smoke escaped you in small puffs, between coughs, dishing in the occasional sip of water from a crinkled 'room service' water bottle. It seemed to entertain Ben strangely, watching you quietly as you recovered from the harsh breath of smoke with an extended hand to take the glass piece back from you. The thick veil of smoke in the air twisted in ribbons as you spoke.

"Remember when you talked about our deal? What made you," You trailed off, recalling the night with a creeping burn ringing in your ears, the feeling of his hands seared into your mind.

"Mhm." Ben didn't miss a beat replying in a deep hum, his eyes now settled closed as he relaxed back into the couch with a sigh. "I don't know. "

He knew the question was coming, though with the anticipation came no rousing answer; In truth, he didn't know. He hadn't been drawn to you before that night, and now finding his pulse speeding due to just being in close proximity of you was... A shift. That was for sure. Ben shifted his jaw slightly, head leaning off to the side a bit. Sex was materialistic, something traded, an exchange - Kissing though. It made Ben's fingers clench into slight fists beside himself, pulling in a slow inhale as his mind returned back to the alley. Your lips against his. The thrum of Ben's heart began to pulse in his temples, rushing down his abdomen as he recalled the feeling of it all. His eyes opened, shifting his weight and keeping his gaze pinned to the space in front of him.  "You think I'm a bad guy?"

"...Yes." You weren't sure what he wanted to hear in that moment, his blue eyes fixated on the spot in front of him as your attention fell from his expression to his hands. How they fisted the spaces in the couch beside himself; Yet the geiger counter Hughie left behind remained still. Not rage, not frustration, or a slew of memories. You couldn't place what was eating away at him, not exactly. Though as you confessed yourself, in a single word - The first thing to come from Ben was a chuckle. His fists uncurled, clearing his throat as his eyes moved over the room with a shake of his head. The answer didn't seem to satisfy him - He didn't know your scale of what was and what was not bad, no way to place where he was in your mind, let alone on a metaphorical scale of morality. He brought a hand to his face, palm, and fingers rubbing at his stubble before looking over toward you. His expression was unreadable, not necessarily negative, the lingering breathy chuckle leaving behind the remains of a smirk. Ben wet his lips, parting them for a moment.

"You scared'a me then?" Ben breathed the question, his tone far different from the one he asked a few moments ago. It was a hardened thought as if he'd already concluded the answer before he even asked - Though he wanted to see it. That moment where the searching in your eyes falls to a fearful pricked gaze, goosebumps on your skin as Ben's question truly dawned on you, the man tilting his head slightly, brows still furrowed. He knew that you were scared, but his face read he had no inkling of such a thing; A truly evil man, is one who can be good when he chooses to be.

"Do you want me to be?"

It was a good answer, one that left Ben in yet another warranted corner, grappling with his rather intrusive blood flow. With another shift of his weight, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, inhaling sharply through his nostrils. The dust of cocaine surely didn't go unnoticed, Ben wiping the remainder of it from his upper lip with his thumb, and rubbing it over his tongue. He wouldn't let any go to waste, especially considering Butcher would be now... less inclined to support his rather persistent habit. It showed though; That widened gaze, pupils dilating and lips parting just enough to make way for slow breaths - The smell of whiskey and tobacco. He was always high, smoking even more than Frenchie, but there was a strange tension when he cut lines on the coffee table in front of everyone. It was a different level, the elated silver of his blue eyes pinning people to the spot, unwavering, unblinking. Terrifying, And yet there you sat.

"I think you're already past that. The whole scared thing. I mean shit, you're damn well traumatized."

"I'm stronger than you realize, you know?"

"I could pin you with one hand and take you over my knee with the other." Your throat dried, his gaze inspecting your reaction with a tentative inhale, breathing out a hum as he reached for the pipe still white-knuckled in your hand. He wasn't wrong - He had proved that, yet your stomach twisted into a tight knot at his little hesitation to make it crystal clear. His index and middle finger curled inwards twice, gesturing to the pipe with his eyes still searing into yours. You handed it over with a quiet sigh, eyes breaking away from his before he could dig himself deeper into your mind. You weren't sure how he did it, explored the darkest pits of your mind and clutching them with a forceful intimacy. You recalled the kiss, intermingled with hitched gasps and pleads for mercy, as your hand grazed his. It was warm, his ravenous hands working in stark contrast to the sudden plush in his voice and groans. It was nearly human. Ben paused for a tense moment, eyeing the pipe and parting his lips as the warmth of your skin rested against the callous of his own. You chewed your lip, sneaking a glance at the man who now visibly gathered his thoughts, tensing his jaw as he surrendered the words away, pursing his lips to punctuate his silence.

Sometimes you still wonder what he was going to say. Before he pulled his hand back from yours, before clearing his throat as he caught your stolen glimpse. He set the pipe down onto the small table, watching the bowl fizzle out with you, the black layer slowly crumbling to a dull white ash.

"I was going to ask why you kissed me,"

"I know." You tensed, half expecting him to be far past dozed off during the rolling periods of silence between you. Your eyes moved from the long put-out bowl to look in his direction, though he was already looking at you. The weight of his gaze fell onto your shoulders, beading down your body in slow waves. Ben wet his lips, pursing them once again; And you knew that was all you were going to get. It was nearly impossible to pry him from his mind when he sunk back, his eyes distant for a bleary second, before being blinked away, darting around for the closest vice to pull him back.

But there you were. His vice. The drug no material high could compete with, your soft lips shaping into words he could hardly conceptualize past the thick veil of his rushing pulse. He wanted to constrict himself, for the sake of himself, clench his damn fists and look away from your lips. He swallowed, jaw tight as you leaned closer to him in an inaudible allure, tying the both of you to a painful high. You could feel his breath, hot against yours as he inhaled slowly, his hands unlocking themselves from the couch to reach toward you.

     As Ben's large hands moved, he inhaled deeply, his eyes never leaving your lips. The warmth of his skin against yours sent an electric shiver down your spine, and you found yourself leaning your body closer to him. He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat and conflict in his eyes, the battle between his selfish desire and his self-control. But as he allowed you to press your weight against his own, his lips brushing against yours, you knew that he had lost the war. 

     Bens's lips moved against yours, slow, painstakingly hesitant as if you were made from glass. His hands moved to your waist, pulling your body closer to him as he deepened the kiss. You could taste the weed on his tongue, mixing with bitter liquor, the soft scratch of his stubble rubbing against your skin. You moaned softly against his mouth, your hands moving to his chest, clutching tightly at the collar of his sweatshirt, still dotted with water from his hair. He groaned, the sound deep, and pulled from his chest, a breath of surprise passing his nostrils as you pulled yourself impossibly closer to him. Your legs rested beside his, straddling his lap as your fingers moved to his cold wet hair, tangling themselves through the soaked strands. His tongue traced your bottom lip, his mouth practically watering as you began to grind yourself down against his stiffening cock. A familiar pulse strung itself in your desperate movements, an instinctive dance you couldn't help but lose yourself in, your heart thrumming in your chest, heartbeat quickening in your ears. You took in a ragged breath, lips still pressed messily to his as his hands gripped your hips with a pleading grunt.

"What're you doin' to me, huh baby?" Ben whispered against your glossy lips, his eyes still closed, forehead gently resting against yours. You wish you could answer feasibly, and bring your swelling need to words, but the feeling of being against him was intoxicating. His grasp was like steel, unwavering, fingers moving in practiced gropes, invasively pulling your thighs further apart with little effort on his end. Your struggles, the moments your thighs hitch together or your back arches an inch out of place, were hardly anything to him. His hands molded you in forceful need, the heat of your skin and the sound of your breathing; He wanted it all, all of your weight against his statuesque body, the feeling of the gathering heat between your thighs grinding against his cock. 

"Deals a deal," You reminded the Supe with gritted teeth, pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. Though it did nothing, hardly feeling like a tug, he tilted his chin up, relaxing his shoulders into the couch. Your heart thundered in your chest - You felt like a mouse balancing on the paw of a lion waiting to strike, as you pestered and teased him. He clawed into your hips, palming your ass with a shudder as you lowered your head to his jaw. Your lips traced his stubble, humming softly as you reached his neck, grinding your hips down against him.

"Oh, is that what this is?" Ben spoke in a shallow rumble. "I should'a known better." You felt yourself lift from his lap, his hands bringing you into the air with ease to lay your back on the couch, grunting softly as he pinned your hands beside your head, positioning himself above you. Your breath swam shallow in your chest, swirling from your lips in a mix of moans and echoed pleas. For just a split second, the crushing heat of fear cut through your arousal in a searing slash, your thighs quivering, instinctually going to snap together. Ben's knee caught the space between your legs before you could deny him further, his pressing need to predict your movements drawing a whimper from your throat. He was like stone, no matter how your thighs wriggled, it all resulted in your clit pressing snug against his knee. You could feel your cheeks burning, rushing with the same heat that pulsed itself in your aching cunt. Ben watched your expression shift, releasing your wrists slowly as he pressed his knee experimentally against your heat. You let out a pitiful mewl, watching him slowly reach one of his hands down to grope his clothed length, the veins in his arms bulging as he dipped his fingers past his waistband with a sharp exhale.

     The noises you made stirred something in him, his cock twitching with each strained breath that caught your throat. Ben tugged the waistband of his sweatpants down, wetting his lips with a strained grunt as he freed his aching length. You shuddered, feeling his gaze on your face as you watched him wrap his hand over his thick shaft, moving in time with a slow grind against your pussy. Precum pearled at the tip, his thumb rubbing over his slit with a sharp exhale as he gazed at you hungrily.

You'd never forget those eyes, obscured by the drape of his dripping hair as he stroked himself to the image of you before him. Sweat beaded on his temple, brows arching as your back did, letting out a soft grunt as his eyes clung to your features. Ben's other hand released your wrist; He knew well enough he didn't have to restrain you to get what he wanted. His fingers traveled over your arm, rough palm rubbing against your burning cheek, before hitching his grip to the waistband of your thin shorts. His thick fingertips pushed past the fabric with an eased grunt, stretching the elastic band down to expose your underwear. Ben's jaw tensed before his lips fell open to take in a gritted gasp, gripping his cock as it pulsed at the mere sight of you. Your thighs swell over the edges of your underwear, the pearls of sweat pooling in the curves of your features. The air was thick with your hot breathing, eyes pinned on his cock, and how you affected him with each piece of clothing peeled back. Though by the time you had shed your shorts, his patience had worn thin, standing to his feet to properly rid of his sweatpants; Your breath caught in your throat as you did your best to keep up with the man's motions, how quickly his muscular arms crossed over his wide shoulders, pulling the sweatshirt from himself. Scars etched through his skin behind his chest hair, moving with his body as he sauntered toward you.

"Take everything but those lil' panties off, before I rip it all off you sugar."

You manage to comply, prying away the fabric confining your now sweat-glazed skin, pooling in the curves of your body. You could hear his breathing hitch with every article shed from your frame, your shirt discarded messily over your head. You were left as he wanted, as he demanded, head lulling off to the side as you looked up at him. Ben looked almost smug, satisfied as his hand, unmoving at the base of his aching cock, began to stroke slowly, lips parting as he admired you. Your hands clutched at the spaces beside you on the couch, imagining how your nails would feel grinding into his shoulders, raking down his back. The heat wound tight around your senses, breathing shallow as he took two steps toward you, free hand extending to tap your knee with his index and middle finger.

"Open these up, don't be all innocent now." He spoke in a husk voice, blue eyes perched on your chest, admiring how it contoured in decadent shadows with each of your delicate breaths. You wanted to hesitate, though his calloused fingers remained unmoving on your knee. Your body rushed in a hot pulse, cheeks searing as the thought dawned on you.

If you didn't open them, he would simply do it for you.

"That's it now, pumpkin." You shuddered from his pleasure at your eyes leering away from his invasive stare, knees wobbling slightly as you spread them for the man in front of you. They were a simple white pair, nothing special you thought; You dimly remember pulling them on this morning, eyes raking over yourself in the mirror with a chew of your lip. You would never imagine someone taking such a violent and carnal need to see you like that - Like this, Ben's fingers sliding down from your knee to the soft of your thigh. He kneaded your flesh, shamelessly jerking his cock as his touch left a fire in its path, rampaging your mind as he drew closer and closer to your needy heat. A whine hummed through your chest, perhaps racketeering with a man known for his selfish dalliances was less than wise, you thought - Regret, hesitation, it pulsed in your mind in an evil concoction, it strung tight in the path of his hot touch, how small grunts escaped him with each arch of his rough palm against his member. You wanted to sputter an excuse, your lips parting, the words about to spill from them; Before his hand rested on your cunt. The strings that tightened your throat, binding each one of your movements to him and his reaction to you, snapped. Your stomach fluttered as if you were on a rollercoaster, the aching tension of the rattling chain releasing, the traction giving way to an indescribable rush and sending you rocketing downwards. You knew you were being pulled, chained, and bound to the force of a man above you, all by the tips of his fingers now circling your clit in time with his strokes.

"Fuck," You huffed shakily, hardly able to conduct the electric shivers stippling your movements as you let your weight relax into his fingers. Your hips rocked slowly, clit pressed snug against the calloused warmth of his fingers. Ben's hand moved with a deliberate rhythm, his thumb flicking over your clit as his fingers danced circles around it. He watched your body, the way your chest rose and fell, the way your eyes fluttered, and your lips parted. His breathing grew ragged, and he grunted with each stroke of his cock, the head glistening with precum. You felt the fire inside you, spreading from your core, igniting every nerve ending. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only your body, Ben's touch, and the sounds of your own ragged breaths.

"Look'atchya," Ben whispered, his voice thick with a pillowy rumble. "Soaking through your panties," You didn't didn't respond, your throat too tight to form the words. You only nodded, silently pleading, the motion of your head sending another lashing rush, the pangs of denied pleasure practically agonizing.

Ben's eyes met yours, a hunger and a want for you in them. He licked his lips and leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek. "You're fucking depraved," He whispered, his fingers dipping pulling at the thin cotton, hot against your sensitive flesh. He smirked, his thumb now toying in circles over your clit, pulling it taut with each pass. "Gettin' all wet for a bad man like me,"

Your back arched with a moan, head falling back against the couch, his words sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. The way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, it was all far past intoxication. You felt like you were drowning in lust, the water rising higher and higher, threatening to swallow you whole. His fingers played with you, circling your clit with a deeper pressure, teasing you, making you squirm.

Ben's other hand slid up your thigh, grasping the underside of your knee, pulling you closer, and simultaneously spreading your legs. His cock, thick and heavy, rested on the soft mound of your pussy, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. You whimpered, needing more, needing him.

"Please, Ben," You begged, your voice a ragged whisper. You'd damn yourself later for sounding so pathetic eyes stinging with tears of need, cheeks hot with your desperately rushing pulse. He watched you for a sick moment, holding his thumb to your clit, lips twitching into a sadistic smirk as your squirmed frantically. You shuddered out a gasp, frustrated and desperate. His fingers stilled on your pussy, Ben's rough palm now stroking the base of his member. Your body jerked slightly, the denied pleasure mingling with a bitter pain. Ben's lowered the head of his cock, letting his girth slide between your pussy lips with a strained grunt. Pressed against your glossy entrance, rubbing against it in slow circles now, your hands reached his shoulders, nails carving into the muscular flesh.

"Beg for it."

And you did. You remember your lips hanging open, drawing in shallow breaths as you couldn't tear your eyes from the tip of his cock; How he teased you with each small breach. Tears wet your lashes, shame and need wrestling in your chest with each heaving breath between obscene words. You couldn't recall the words, the magic phrase you spoke to please him just enough to give you what you craved more than anything. It was too foggy, too spun out by the responding movement of Ben's hips.

"Nasty little thing," The man praised, hooking your knees against the curve of his elbows, yanking your ass to the edge of the couch. You cried out quietly, unable to gather your breath before the hot boiling mix of pleasure and pain began to wash over your sweat-glazed body. He slid inside, slowly at first, lip twitching as he groaned quietly. Your cunt pulled him in, the velvety breathlessness of your moans and pleads beckoning him to fill you. When his hips hit yours, the pillowed warmth of your ass slapping gently against his thighs, he admired you for a fleeting second - How your cunt wrapped over the hilt of his cock, your hips already rocking as the bitterly sweet familiar feeling of him swept you away entirely. You'd never admit to him how perfectly he fit inside, how a tugging part of your heart yearned to hear his soft moans, to hear him plea for you. Though with a hesitant draw of your eyes to meet his, you could feel the ice-hot revelation shackling your aching cunt around him, how his refusal to use you slowly seemed to short-circuit your blinded mind. He knew what you wanted; But he knew the darker side of you as well. The part of you that could never love him, but craved his calloused touch, the taste of his whiskey, the smell of his smoke. Ben thrust violently into you, the couch creaking in sharp squeaks as he practically lifted your ass from the edge of the couch, eyebrows knitting together as the new angle set a flame in his movements. Your breathing couldn't keep up, sweat dampening your hair as your hands uselessly held onto his shoulders with white knuckles. Your words floundered from between your plush lips, eyes rolling back with the rushing force of each one of his thrusts. It spun your feeble mind, melting in his hands, your grasp falling away from his shoulders with a pathetic sob. It was useless; Whether you were moaning in ecstasy, or fighting tooth and nail, he could use you when he saw fit. Use you brutally, your cunt quivering around his invasive cock, his hands moving to your waist now.

"Stop your fuckin' squirmin'!" You hadn't realized you were until his rough hands pinned you down to the worn fabric of the couch below you. He palmed your hips like a sex toy, admiring the feeling of your pussy continuing to milk him despite stilling inside of you. The head of his intrusive member pressed and rested in the small curve of your cervix. His eyes sized you down, undressing your naked body, pulling the innocence from his perspective of you; This is how you wanted him to treat you? To admire you for a transient instant before reeling his hips back, and snapping them forward with a vulgar clap of your ass. He stayed deep inside, only pulling out a few inches before slamming back, stamping the head of his cock against your cervix, pushing you to your absolute limit - All with a sickening smirk on his face, beads of sweat falling down in small pools down the curve of his jaw and prominent edges of his muscular neck and chest. Your hands explored every inch of his skin, drinking down whatever opportunity to feel him, to pry underneath the facade. Sparks flared behind the thin lids of your eyes, lashes wet and messy with tears, cheeks aflame as your body followed in smoldering suit. Ben didn't let up his thrusts, the telling pulse of your eager cunt, the incandescence moans choked from your throat. "That's it now angel, that's right - That's it, soak my cock, baby." The man's voice was mesmeric, unable to pull his attention from the unsteady breath in your growing moans. The undeniable limerence pulsated in his veins, the simple sound of your voice threatening to spill him over the edge. The ambrosial tone of your connection bound your senses to him, all the hot sparks that frayed your skin now tightened themselves in your aching cunt.

"Cum for me," Ben's words hardly pressed past the thick veil that lashed and licked hungrily at your heartbeat and body, a hot white pleasure shocking your quivering cunt. The man above you groaned, pulling your hips down to meet his, the sudden sensation of his cum filling your convulsing cunt washing over your hot skin. You tensed, legs locking around the other's waist. He gripped the back of the couch, splintering and cracking the wood underneath his iron grasp, shuddering out a hissed breath with each shallow thrust of his hips. His movements slowed, drips of his sweat dotting your skin, the heat of your mingling breaths thickening the oxygen you gasped desperately for. Slowly, he pulled himself from your pussy, letting out a strangled moan as the tip popped out, his warm cum following in a slow trickle.

Your eyes were half-lidded, eyes swimming up to find Ben, watching his toned body pull away from you, his slick cock still half erect, your juices dripping messily down his strong thighs. Your legs shook, still raised, as if stuck in that obscene position until he demanded you do otherwise - Though when the warmth of his palm met the soft of your trembling thigh, he pushed down slowly. Your legs relaxed, meeting the couch with a grunt, Ben's hand lingering on your skin for a brief moment. You knew the pain would come later, the bruises flowering over your hips, returning to the silent tension that Ben insisted was better for both of you. He took a seat beside you, his chest rising and falling with a steadying breath before looking towards you with a lazy chaste expression.

"You tell anyone about this, I'll fuckin' kill ya." You couldn't help but turn your head, speaking softly between gasps for air.

"If you were really going to kill me, Ben - You would have done it already."

[spohkh]

It’s going to be so hard. so hard to create anything like mpw. there has truly been no show like it. nothing at all. like from episode one, it is pretty much entirely set in the comfort of their home. warm tones, dark lighting, dim and yellow like the ones you keep on at night when you don’t want it to be too bright. and there’s barely any other character except them. of course there’s man-san and mr. man-san but they’re in no way almost involved with their relationship. yoh and segasaki essentially have an established relationship. they’re already living together. have clear layout on who does the chores etc. the story is pretty much all inside their house. no one else is involved. cause yk segasaki comes home after work and there’s yoh. and they say ‘i’m home’, ‘you’re back’.

[fae-morrigan]

Superfam and Found Family: What it Means to Choose

I have seen a lot of my beloved mutuals talk about adoption as a theme in the superfam, and thats true, thats very much a thing, but thats more a subsection of the larger idea with the superfamily: You get to choose your family, and define your relationship to them.

Clark and Kon come to mind. They've been discussed a lot lately, huh? Namely people saying Clark does not treat Kon well. This is false, by the way, they get along great.

But let's sort of dig into the actual story told by their relationship here: Kon was created by Lex without Clark's consent. Clark had no say in how part of his DNA would be used to create a new life.

(This is coincidentally why it irks me that certain fans will act like Clark is a monster for even HYPOTHETICALLY not wanting a relationship with Kon. Guys, you sound like pro-lifers. Lets watch it!)

Despite this, Clark accepts Kon with open arms. Now, as myself and others have pointed out, Kon's technically... he's not a clone, he's a test tube baby. Technically, biologically, he's Clark & Lex's son. D.. diversity win...?

But thats not how Clark and Kon choose to define their relationship. They instead decide, hey, we were raised by the same people, we're brothers.

Kon is not an outsider to the Superfam, even as he is an outsider to this world- He is welcomed with open arms once it is clear he needs a home. And with Clark and Kon, they get to choose how they define their relationship, not Lex, not anyone else.

Then, John Henry and Nat. John Henry is not Natasha's father, but their relationship is very complex and often veers into that territory, for the simple reason that he shows up for her in that capacity when Natasha's own father fails her.

Even while their relationship has its ups and downs (read 52 guys for THEM), they manage to forge a relationship based on mutual respect, enough to the point where during Steelworks, she is not just his niece, but his partner in building a better tomorrow. It is a fatherly/daughterly relationship built on mutual respect largely independent of their blood relation, built on the security that Clay failed to provide Natasha with.

Of course, to talk about adoption, Clois adopting the twins. I think Phillip Kennedy Johnson handles the topic of adoption EXPERTLY with Otho-Ra and Osul-Ra, specifically as a metaphor for transracial/transethnic adoption.

Clark's relationship with the twins is built throughout the Warworld saga, and does not start... great (they discuss looting his corpse lol), and often they. But Clark understands that the kids are traumatized, and seeks to guide them to a better situation.

Now I would be irresponsible to not mention that, during this time, Clark is still struggling with Jon's age up. He mumbles, disoriented during their first meeting, that the kids are the same age as his son (no they are not). In a less tightly written book by a worse writer, it'd be a thing where Clark completely uncritically finds 'replacement kids' in the twins... Which is NOT what happens here, because PKJ is the GOAT.

In the end, his relationship with the twins is built not only independently of his struggles with Jon, but the way he connects with them helps Clark realize that whats done is done. They need him to be Clark, not a man hanging onto the past he will never get back. To move forward, they must do it together, it won't work if the twins remain on Warworld and he remains mentally in Hamilton. Its why it is SUPER important, also, that in the end, Clark doesn't ask them to come with him- rather, they ask to go with Clark.

(Sidenote: The twins lost not only their parents on warworld, but an older brother, too. Clark isn't the only one who finds a healing way forward via the Ra-El relationships, but that's gonna be another post!) And their hero names, Red Son and Starchild, are from their original culture (the Phaelosians), a culture that was systematically robbed from them when Warworld trafficked them into service. Rather than forcing them to conform to the house of El and their legacy, they help the kids reconnect.

These are his children. They found each other in the scariest place in the universe, and together, they find a way past the things they've both suffered through.

I'm afraid I don't know much about Kara (kara mutuals, reading recs appreciated! i've only ever read WOT and a few issues of the most recent Supergirl run) but I do know that her relationship to Clark is inherently different than it was supposed to be, and she has to roll with it and redefine it accordingly. She was supposed to be older than him, be able to take care of him, but by the time she actually finds him, he's the one doing that for her.

(I dont really have a panel here I fear, so look at the pretty art from Woman of Tomorrow. If someone wants to say more on Kara, you're welcome to hijack my post for a bit!)

Kenan is an example of this theme going kind of sideways and being examined from another angle- He's forced to choose between his two found families, and with either choice, he stands to lose something. Either his connection to Superman, or his connection to home:

Kenan already has a messy relationship with family, considering the soap opera level drama his parents inflict on him in his solo. Now, separated from his culture by circumstances he can't control, Kenan's relationship with the Superfam is forced by circumstance, even as it isn't unwanted. He's forced to make the most of what he has.

Then you have Clark and Jon, where the 'and define your relationship to them' part of my thematic statement REALLY becomes important.

I've seen it argued many times that giving Jon the Superman mantle weakens the theme of found family, but I'd argue it strengthens it, because Jon not having a choice in becoming Superman is EXPLICITLY framed as a bad thing.

Jon's not ready to be Superman. He doesn't even really WANT to be superman. But because of the circumstances of his birth, the world, and his father, push him into it. Clark never asked Jon to be Superman, during the Son-of-kal-el + Warworld era. He assumed he would be.

It tarnishes Clark & Jon's relationship, actively preventing Jon from connecting with his father and the WORLD fully in the way they both want. This is a key theme of Superman: Son of Kal El, from the very moment of Jon's actual birth:

All throughout post-age up Jon is the idea that Jon is just as burdened by the expectations placed upon him by his blood as he is comforted by what the mantle represents.

(I know I use this panel like every analysis but its a GOOD PANEL, SHUT UP) And there's of course the fact that... y'know. Well. Y'know.

Y'KNOW.

I think there's a potentially strong story in either Jon walking away from the mantle entirely, or redefining it to be his own. But first, he's going to have to suffer for the fact he wasn't ready for what many people call his DESTINY, including his abuser.

And where does this leave Jon and Clark?

Here.

The last note before Absolute Power of these two is this bittersweet moment where Jon still isn't fully heard. Where he still doesn't get a full say in what he and Clark's relationship will be. And judging by THIS interview from Mark Waid, this particular idea is about to finally come home to roost:

Lastly, there's of course the Most Found Family Thing Of All that i basically see NO one talk about: The fact that the Irons and the Kents just. Share all their big life events with each other. They're literally not related to each other by blood at all, but throughout PKJ's Action Comics, they ARE family!

Teamwork makes the dreamwork guys!

The superfamily is a wonderfully diverse cluster of relationships and examinations of the way family finds each other. Even moreso than the Batfam, which is often defined by their father-son relationship with Bruce in fanon, the Superfam displays a wide array of the various ways non-nuclear families can build each other.

This is all to say you guys should read PKJ's action comics run. It rules.

(This is also to say Superman 2016 sucks ass.)

[postmodernbeliever]

how to relax - fox mulder x female reader (smut)

a seemingly endless case in the middle of nowhere has you stressed out of your mind, to the point where the only thing that doesn't push you too far is fox mulder. with all that stress and no way to reel yourself in, your partner decides he wants to help show you how to relax.

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wrote this bc sometimes we (i) just need a (toe curling) self-insert to satisfy our (my) daydreams. i dedicate this to all those who are chubby and in love with fox mulder. if you prefer to read on ao3, you can find me at the same username.

my ao3 | word count; 5,419 (i got excited, okay?)

content tags (i copied from ao3 bc im lazy): dom fox mulder, praise kink, fluff and smut, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, hand & finger kink, subspace, size difference, belly bulge, co-workers, mutual pining, idiots in love, pet names, stress relief, cross-posted on ao3, smut, subtle plus size reader, soft fox mulder, mentions of freudian shit bc come on this is the x files, talking you through it, fox is literally so awoooooga the whole time, fox gets cocky as always, fox mulder the munch, bathroom sex, fox just can’t help himself literally so i hope you enjoy

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you’d been beyond stressed all day, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for you. what was frustrating was that you had managed to grow so agitated that it seemed nothing could help you calm down. 

your work with the fbi was your life, in all its stress-inducing, time-consuming, hair-splitting glory. you were as tight-assed as they came (ask literally anybody!) all of that pressure on top of a naturally anxious and irritable demeanor made you difficult to enjoy being around, and you knew it. but today, of all days, it was truly catching up to you physically. the muscles of your jaw were sore from the tension they held, fighting between your teeth for release. your head swelled between your eyes and nose, pulsing softly like a glowing light that wouldn’t dim. your throat was dry, your footsteps heavy, your hands restless; you were wound so tight that everyone you encountered feared you might snap like a rubber band, lashing against them in recoil. 

fox mulder was the only one who had stayed on your good side all day, which is surprising, given your partner was typically the casual aggressor of your everyday life- what with his constant nagging and ridiculous speculations about every crime you investigated. he never once changed his attitude, let alone change the color shirt he wore to work every day. yet it seemed this time he was off the hook, because the case you’d both been assigned was dragging like no other. 

it was your fifth day in the desolate yellow countryside of a rural town you so lovingly renamed as bumblefuck, virginia; all you possessed was an immaterial, mulder-esque lead that couldn’t be pinned down (as your fellow agent was torn between shapeshifter and werewolf). on top of that were ten dead bodies, no evidence, and a motel room with broken air conditioning, complete with a leaky sink. you were sick to death of the heat, and the town, and the local policemen who seemed to have but two executive functions: hit on you or ignore your assertions. for a stagnant fifth day, you’d experienced more frustration than ever- the cops have begun to give up on catching a suspect, fox was investigating muddy footprints all afternoon like the freak he is, and you were stuck to sit in the closet-sized archives room at the local library where teenagers and nagging townspeople came in to ogle the “fbi lady”… jesus, no wonder your head hurts. 

fox came by every so often to check on you that afternoon. once with a cup of coffee, once with half of a sandwich he’d thoughtfully taken a bite out of to piss you off, and again with dirt all over his face and a wild story about how he caught a glimpse of his x file mid-attack. if you weren’t used to his personality by now it might’ve made things worse, but in a way his teasing and subtle acts of service were the only soothing memories you had to reflect on. he was a moment of consistency between the endless chaotic installments of the afternoon. 

at the end of the day, you were mentally exhausted, hungry for the other half of that sandwich fox ate, and in need of the shitty motel bed; at the very least some peace and quiet, just for one night. but it seemed your partner wouldn’t let you have it. 

you’d had about an hour to yourself before fox materialized in your motel room. after a shower that quickly ran cold, you slipped into a sweatshirt, a threadbare set of sleep shorts that were a bit tight for your pudgy legs, and two flimsy socks that didn’t match because you hadn’t packed for a trip this long. you’d tried watching the television, but the antennae were spotty no matter how you arranged them. the air conditioning machine clanked and whistled nonstop, and hiding under your pillows didn’t dull the racket. the best part was when you tried to light the little bedside yankee candle and the lighter ran out of fluid- but not before it sparked and burned your thumb. you’d finally begun to decompress when a familiar knock sounded from outside. summoning a forcibly loud groan- so your tall visitor heard exactly how you felt- you clambered off the creaking bed and towards the door, which revealed his trademark smug smile. 

“good evening, watson!”

“what do you want?” you sighed, closing your eyes. 

you felt his hand push your shoulder to the side, and the man squeezed past you into the room. you scoffed and said, “oh, please, make yourself at home!” 

“i will, thank you,” fox teased. “i came to check on you.”

“because?”

“well, you’ve been a wreck all day! didn’t laugh at one of my jokes. you nearly bit the sheriff's head off tonight when we checked in at the station before leaving… i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“oh? well, you know what? no, mulder, i’m not okay. we’ve been stranded out in the middle of nowhere for a week with no leads and no progress and the food here sucks and i haven’t had a single good night’s sleep and all my socks are dirty!” you ranted, pacing in front of the half-open door like a lunatic. 

fox grinned as if he knew something you didn’t and turned from you, heading towards the tiny bathroom tucked in the corner of the room. you slammed the front door shut and followed him, snapping, “what, you come in asking how i feel and just walk away? explain to me how that makes any sense, mulder!”

the agent leaned against the bathroom sink, hands laid curiously on the lip of the counter. he dutifully watched the little crystal droplets that fell rhythmically down the ceramic bowl. the air surrounding him felt charged, like if you stepped too close, you’d get shocked; almost as if his thoughts were electrifying the oxygen. 

he frustrated you beyond belief sometimes. the man stood in your bathroom like his day was going perfectly fine. a gray t-shirt clung to his lean arms, hugging the curves of his biceps like it was tailored for him alone; his sweatpants were black and littered with lint from the hairy couch in his apartment, and they hung low on his hips, peeping the waistband of his black boxers like a well-known secret. his hair was pointing every which way in its tawny misdirection, and he had the nerve to inspect your sink, and lick his lips like he had all the time in the world to enjoy the southern sticks and lupine mysteries, all while you had to scour newspapers and sleep in ten minute increments to survive. 

“mulder, what the hell are you doing?” 

“your sink is leaking.” 

“yeah, i know, sherlock.”

“did you ask them to fix it?”

“mulder, i will not hesitate to kick you out.”

“jeez, somebody’s worked up.”

the man pivoted on his feet, facing you with a newfound sense of purpose. you were prepared to object his statement, but were silenced by his hands finding your hips. he was so quick to slide you up onto the counter that you forgot your rebuttal- in fact, in his rush to relocate you, you’d forgotten to think entirely. he had your thighs pinned to the cold, white countertop, and parted so he could press his tummy to the spot where your legs met. his shirt rode up in the moment, and you could feel the warmth of his bare skin against the fabric of your shorts. 

fox’s hands felt rough. you stared at them, at the sheer size, and recollected all the little stolen glances of those fingers sifting through his filing cabinets, or analyzing your field notes, or polishing his gun. countless vivid reminders of the strength of them as they pulled you back from bullets and unexpected staircases flashed before your eyes. how often you longed for them, you couldn’t say, but it was clear to you now as those same hands held you down that you had taken a serious liking to them. 

it took you a while, but you managed to mutter, “what are you doing?”

fox could only smile wider and say, “you need to relax, don’t you?” 

“what does that-”

“why don’t you let me help you?” 

you swallowed thickly, feeling a bubbling heat rise in your belly. his calloused palms rode up your legs, finding room for his thumbs to begin drawing soft, sweeping circles against your hip bones. your brain clouded so fast you forgot to answer. 

“i’ve never seen you so aggravated before… like, by every little thing. i mean, i know you get annoyed, but these past couple days have been so rough for you, haven’t they? just can’t calm down, can you? you look so tired, so tense. i can feel all the tension you’re keeping right… here,” he consoled, letting up on your hips to press a hand to your lower abdomen. when you sucked in a nervous breath, the man pressed a little harder, and you twitched beneath him. “i can fix that for you, if you want. show you how to relax a little.” 

“y-you’re not even supposed to be in here,” you wheezed, “agents… agents aren’t supposed to consort in the same room, mulder, remember?”

“awh, come on, don’t start following the rules on me now! don’t you wanna feel better, honey?” 

fox spoke like every word was a secret, leaning in close to your ear. the scruff of his five o’clock shadow brushed against your fresh face, eliciting a spidery chill down your spine. 

“what’s gotten into you, mulder?”

“i asked you a question, sweetheart.”

you panicked, swallowing air like it was water. these kinds of questions felt new coming from him. anxiously, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, hoping that was enough. you couldn’t handle much else.

“is that a yes?”

“...mhm.”

“can you say yes for me?”

fuck. “yes.”

“good girl. it’ll help, i promise.” 

it seemed he couldn’t be going any slower than he was just then, gingerly removing his hands from your waist and biting his lower lip like the reincarnate of a dream you’d entertained too many times before. you watched with a spinning head as his long, spindly fingers hooked under the waistband of your shorts. his pale eyes twinkled at you, sage steeped in milk, as he asked, “can i?” in that lilting voice he uses only when the room is begging for quiet. when you eagerly nodded, he chuckled, “lift up for me a little, okay?” 

you followed orders and pressed your shaky hands to the tile, raising your hips so he had room to slide your shorts down. his face melted at the sight of you underneath. 

night after night, he’d fantasized about those doe eyes of yours watching him free you up like this, but he never imagined he’d get the chance. until this afternoon, when he resolved to create the chance. through all these years working beside you, he’s only grown to admire you more. you were cunning, you were gentle with kids, you were smarter than he ever could be (even if you disagreed.) but you were also tired. you lived alone, you slept alone, you never asked for help and you declined every offer. fox hated to see you facilitate your own frustration. and this past week has only exacerbated his need to fix it- watching you so angry, so pent up, so in need of attention- he couldn't bear to let you suffer any longer. it seems he’s been lucky, too, because you sat quietly, patiently, all so that he could take care of you. grateful for the opportunity, fox didn’t want to waste any more time. 

with those dreamy fingertips grazing your underwear, fox was the spitting image of boyish charm. he admired the worn black and grey striped fabric covering what was left of you, thinking aloud, “had these for a while, huh?” 

“since i was in college,” you muttered, “everything i wore was dark back then.”

“nothing’s changed. you’re very punk rock,” he winked.

you didn’t know you were capable of laughing in your current state, but it came bubbling up in a nervous overflow. he watched your lips curl, and the way you threw your head back like you couldn’t stop yourself. you felt embarrassed to be so swayed by his stupid humor, but you had no choice. not when he had you wrapped around his finger like this.

“you’re a dork.”

“you like it, though,” he reassured. 

you watched the man hesitate, eyes darting down to your lips; you closed your eyes, hoping it would nudge him in the right direction, and you were right. fox had to crane his neck down a bit- because even with you on the counter, he was still taller- but he made himself level, and he pressed his lips to yours so gently you almost didn’t feel him there. what announced him was the taste of him, actually; stale coffee on his tongue, and what you deduced to be the black-label chapstick, the kind that tasted like medicine. you toppled into him like you were falling off a cliff, clinging to the hem of his shirt in longing. 

fox seemed to like how you hung on him. it made him feel risky. his hands meandered across your tummy, pushing up under your sweatshirt and roaming the soft skin of your back. he caught your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged softly, and when you opened your eyes in surprise, he nudged your nose like a kitten and let it go. he was good at taking control like this, at making your nerves ebb and flow to his pace. you were so entranced in the way his lips meshed with yours that when his dominant hand found its way to your hips again, you mewled in anticipation. 

“you sound a lot prettier when you’re not arguing with me,” fox joked. you met him with a soft sound from the back of your throat, and his eyebrows furrowed in amusement. “can barely speak, can you?”

“mm-mm,” you answered, trying to trap his lips again, but he pulled away. 

his eyes shifted shade, and you were now seeing yourself reflected in much darker irises. your back shivered against the mirror on the wall. he broke eye contact and let it linger on your legs, his palms swiping over the skin with intention. swiftly, he bent over and began pressing kisses to your inner thighs. you let out a strangled whine, which made him shudder.

“you want me to get to it, hm?”

“please, f… mulder,” you whispered, blushing like a fool. 

the man rose again to lock you in a soft kiss, one so much more loving than the others that it let butterflies loose in your chest. interrupting their fluttering, he prodded, “what was that?”

it was out of you before you had a chance to weigh the outcomes. “please, fox.” 

having teased long enough, fox dropped to his knees and pushed your panties aside. his mouth was so slick from all the time it spent on yours that it was dangerously warm as it pressed against your heat. you let out a lewd string of moans as his tongue trailed a long, torturous stripe between your folds, taking his sweet time getting to the top. he felt you throbbing, all the blood in your body pulsing like a heartbeat for him. his lips, just a bit swollen, peppered a few gentle kisses to the skin before surrounding your bud and starting to suck. 

you squeezed your eyes shut so hard it nearly brought your headache back. fox grunted between your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing hard into your bones. you softened for his tongue as it swirled inside your pussy, tracing shapes to drive you insane. your hands burrowed into his cropped cut and tugged in desperation, which he liked so much it practically made him growl; the sound bounced between your walls, sending a sensation into your stomach that made your legs tremble. he felt so good inside you like this, lapping like a puppy at your water; you bucked against his big nose, craving the friction, and he responded with relentless thirst for you.  

“fuck!” you whined, “fox- agh,”

coming up for a gulp of air, you caught a glimpse of his slick chin as it glinted in the yellow light. “feels good?” 

“shit,” you panted, “yes, obviously… more,” 

“more, huh?” fox licked his lips with hungry eyes. “i’m gonna need you to say please, baby.”

“jesus, fox, please! pretty please, baby, please just keep going,” 

“fuck, don’t call me names…” the man swooned at the broken cry in your voice, resolving to give you whatever you needed until the day you die. now wasn’t the time for confession, though, so he filed that away for later. “pretty please. god, you’re good.”

you nearly choked as he pushed two fingers into you, curling them in a rough come-hither motion. he bombarded you with himself, sucking hard on your clit and fucking his fingers into the swelling spot inside you, making you lurch against his touch like an animal. with your head thrown back against the motel mirror and pretty mouth gasping for him, he realized that his dreams could never do this moment justice. the sugary, tangy taste you left on his tongue, your soft skin that smelled like shower suffocating him, the way his name rolled off your tongue- you were the real fucking deal, not some half-assed daydream that got him off at night. you were beautiful, and for not being a praying man, being on his knees before you felt right. who was he to stand eye to eye with you, when down here where you were perched above him like an angel, he had so much more room to worship you? 

“fuck, i- oh, i’m…” you whimpered, grinding against his face with fervor. 

“let it go, honey, come on,” he cooed, “i’ll take care of you.” 

“b-but i- i’ve never- oh my god!”

the agent watched you battle with yourself, all the while writhing on the countertop, so he carefully brought his thumb to your clit and picked up the pace. he rose to you again, using his free arm to slither around the base of your back and pull your body flush against his. you bunched his shirt in your fists helplessly and hid your face in his shoulder. it took all his strength not to collapse right then and there, but he kept moving for you, and you rocked against his palm like you were made for it. when he realized you were going to need a little more help, he gave it to you. 

you were stressed, after all, and sometimes somebody’s just got to talk you through it, right?

“never had it this good before, hm? nobody’s ever made you cum, sweetheart? you poor thing,” fox twitted, clicking his tongue. “you work so hard. my smart girl, so good at her job, so independent… you deserve to be taken care of, to feel good, baby. to let go of all that stress,” 

you struggled to think straight as his gruff voice battled the ringing in your ears. his palm pressed against your back with so much care, like if he moved it you’d shatter into a million pieces. it was all so much, to have your partner with you like this; to hear him breathing beside you, to feel his fingers in a place you’d never thought they’d be. he saw the gears turning in your head still, and he wanted to shut your brain off for good. and god, did he. fox coaxed it right out of you like it was his job. 

“come on, good girl, you can do it,” he whispered. “cum for me, honey, i know you can. show me you can.”

for every moment of danger you found yourself stuck in, fox was there to protect you. when you got reprimanded by a director, he was there to hold your hand behind the safety of the desk. when you were late and needed a cover, he was prepared with a detailed story. you’d forgotten a raincoat a comical number of times, so many in fact that he began keeping a spare in his office for you to borrow. fox was always there, waiting to help you, to guide you, and if it was fucked up (so far as to call it freudian) then so be it- you needed it from him. you needed his safety, his warmth, the strength of his arms around you. his reassurance. 

and to hear him care for you like this, too, to pull on your strings and unravel you like a tired tapestry… god, nothing ever felt so good. 

fox’s eyes rolled back as you twitched on his fingers, moaning his name like a prayer into the stuffy bathroom air. your hands struggled to find a place to stay as they combed through his hair frantically, tugging and trembling; it was like you’d never been touched before in your life. you had, but very few times, and it was just like he said- nobody had done it right. but he had. it felt like his hands were crafted to please you. they knew exactly where to touch, how fast, how gentle, how deep. the man figured you out instantly, which was as exciting as it was terrifying. you’ve never felt so out of it in your entire life. 

you panted wildly, and fox gave soft kisses to your hair while you tried to regain your composure. but you couldn’t. you couldn’t get a grasp on anything. the world was floating in limbo around you, all inconstant; the countertop felt as foreign to you as flying did. but even in your daze, you craved more- the second he stopped, you needed him to start again. you could barely speak, but he heard your mumblings: “m…more, more, f… foxie,”

that nickname gave him goosebumps. slowly, he said, “baby, i don’t have anything with me for that,”

“don’t care. please.” you begged. there was no way he could say no to you, not when your pretty, cloudy eyes looked up at him how they did. 

“okay, baby, okay.” 

fox gave no warning, but nothing would have prepared you anyway- you instinctively opened your hips wider just to make enough room for him. he pushed all the way in, letting himself bottom out; the man let out a moan so guttural that you clenched around him in reflex. you were lucky enough to see him make that pretty ‘o’ face, and that might’ve been enough for you, honestly, but it wasn’t for him. he needed you, and he needed you fast. 

his thrusts were no match for all the grinding you could do. he snapped back and forth like a whip, hips rolling so hard that it felt like he was digging inside you deeper each time. you dragged your nails down his back, trying to find something to hold onto, but his moans in your ear as he hid his face in your neck were so distracting you kept having to start over. 

“jesus, baby, you’re so tight for me,” he grumbled, “feels so good, you’re doing so good… fuck, my good girl.”

his praise made every nerve in your body short-circuit. it didn’t matter how he moved, you couldn’t stop babbling. he tugged your hips forward a little more, making you slump against the mirror, and you clutched the countertop for dear life. 

“can’t use your words, huh, baby? look at you, smartest analyst in the fbi and you can barely speak, all because of me,” he tormented. the man pressed his right hand against your tummy again, just like he had before, and he growled with lust. he seized your hand and pressed it flat beneath his in the same spot, and he fucked you harder, forcing it down until you felt his thrusting beneath your palm. you never thought you’d feel anything like this, not with your soft stomach, but he was making it possible.

“you feel that, pretty? feel me inside you, filling you up? you’re mine now. all mine.”

you had no control. you whined, “foxie,” jerking your hips against his cock in a craze. 

“god, that’s right, that’s my girl.” he smiled.

“s-so… a-agh, please!”

“mm, i know, baby, keep going,” 

you had no more words left, you’d used them all. fox had figured out how to take away all your stress, yet in the process, he took your whole mind with it. now you were just his, a thing to be kissed, a fleshy body for him to praise. for a control freak, you loved being the one under another’s control for once. 

you scratched at fox’s shoulders, a mindless drop of drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth. you felt his cock as it swelled against your slick walls, and how it poked against your insides, and if that weren’t enough, he moved his hand to your clit again and resumed rubbing those blissful circles into it. you could only sit there and grind against his touch, muttering strings of curses and unintelligible sounds.

“agh, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” his moans were growing harsh, turning into whines. “all fucked out, mm, so pretty for me,”

his hips started snapping erratically, and your back arched against the increasing speed. his teeth met your shoulder and he bit softly, grumbling, “i’m so close,”

in what felt like a cry but came out as a strangled whimper, you warned, “m’gonna… agh…” 

fox watched your face screw up in pleasure, and it pushed him right over the edge. your body collapsed as you let go, and he rushed to hold you to him and keep you upright. all the way in your gut, where your hand once rested, you felt him pooling all over, thick and warm. his thumb swirled you slowly, working you through it so you didn’t get too shocked. he was stationary for a while, unable to move from the overstimulation; but when he did, he watched the stuff bubble out of you, though only just a bit. his throat closing up at the sight. he gathered some of it on his fingers and raised them to your lips, and you licked them sweetly. his stomach churned as you gazed down at his hand with foggy eyes, somehow still lustful after all he’d done to tire you out. 

“good job, baby, you were so good for me,” he crooned, leaving sloppy, tired kisses all over your neck. “someone’s gotta take care of you, don’t they?” 

you just murmured little hums, and he loved every second of it. 

“you hear me, pretty girl? nobody takes better care of you than me, you got it? who takes good care of you?” 

“foxie,” you admitted in your mindless bliss. 

“that’s right, baby, foxie does. you’re all mine, honey,” he gushed. “not so stressed anymore, are you?”

“mm-mm.”

“are you okay? take a deep breath for me.”

you tried to speak, but the words weren’t forming. you couldn’t string anything together. all you could do was make quiet noises and mutter his name. “mmph… foxie,”

“here, come here, honey.” 

fox tucked his hands beneath your thighs, and after instructing you to wrap your arms around his neck nice and tight, he carried you from the croaking bathroom sink to the motel bed, where he took extra care in laying you down comfortably. he climbed on top of you and adjusted your shirt, smoothing the fabric over your plush tummy and drawing a dopey smile from you. 

“stuck in your head, hm?” fox asked. 

he’d read up on this type of thing before- subspaces. typically common in BDSM practices, but not exclusively. there was a study conducted that detailed the experience theoretically as a headspace induced by rushes of endorphins, causing the receiver to fall into a trance-like state. he remembered reading how when someone is in a subspace their ability to communicate can be impaired and so can their judgment. it was also suggested that asking grounding questions may help coax people out of them (don’t ask how he found such a study.) so being the guy he is, he took everything very slowly from there, and followed the science. 

“can you hear me, sweetheart?” 

“mm.”

“good. what’s my name?” 

your stomach fluttered at the question, and warmth pooled between your hips at the softness with which he asked, but your brain was two steps behind. it took you a minute to answer, and you could only do it with your eyes closed. “foxie,” you muttered. 

“good girl, good job. that’s right,” he rewarded you with a kiss to the collarbone. beneath his breath he muttered, “fuck, if that isn’t cute.”

he could see you were somewhere else. all of your behavior was so needy. you might’ve thought you were a headcase before, but he’s no stranger to id impulses either; he saw how you pushed into his palms, how you refused to let go of his shirt, and he just wanted to help you through it. he wanted to make sure you felt safe. 

“baby, can you open your eyes for me? can you let me see your pretty eyes?” 

you peeked through one and saw his handsome face staring back at you, that toothy grin blooming flowers in your chest. slowly you opened the other, and even though the world was swirling, you managed to keep them open.

“you’re doing so good, thank you, baby,” he chuckled. “now, i’m gonna put your shorts back on, okay?”

“m’kay.” 

you took a deep breath. he watched your chest rise and fall, and your cheeks burn even redder than he thought possible. your hand held his wrist tightly, tight enough that he prayed your nails would leave little moon-shaped marks behind. you shook your head and tried to wipe away the fuzzy feeling. 

“what’s my name again?” he asked, noticing how hard you were trying to focus. he tapped on your hip so you’d know to lift them, and he wriggled your shorts back on, admiring how they hugged the skin.  

“f-fox.”

“good. what’s my job?” 

“you’re… a profiler,” you volleyed, feeling a little more grounded with each passing second. 

“good girl. and where are we, honey?”

you squinted at him and smiled, “bumblefuck, virginia.” 

when fox laughed, it felt like all the angels rung their bells. something about seeing his face light up and whatever was plaguing him, whatever he was in danger of, just wash away in the moment was nothing short of enlightenment. you wished he’d laugh more, so you could see divine intervention on the regular. 

“coming back to me, hm?” 

“yeah,” you giggled. 

fox leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “i’m trying not to let my ego explode right now, you know,” he smirked, “i never thought you wanted me so bad.” 

you blushed, hiding behind your hands. “i… oh, god.”

“no, no, it was cute! really. you… you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted to do that.” he promised. 

“i’ve never felt-” you paused, wondering if it was worth saying. yet, if he could bring you back to earth after fucking you stupid, what secrets could you hide from him? “i’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

“who, me?” fox laughed.

“mhm. it’s just…  agh. you. it’s only you, fox. embarrassingly so.”

it was his turn to blush then. fox leaned down to catch you in one more kiss, and you felt his hand search the bedsheets for yours so he could tangle your fingers with his own. he didn’t want to break away, so he said it right into your mouth, pausing for air: “god- i have- loved- you for- so long.”

fox couldn’t help but feel proud of himself as he laid down between your legs, resting his head on your warm belly like it was a pillow. you instinctively took to his hair, playing with the chocolatey tufts and wishing he’d never move. he fit so perfectly right there, and now you couldn’t ever let him go. you didn’t want to.

with one last kiss to your hip, fox grinned. “told you i could help.”

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

i have left

hey everyone this will probably be the last thing i post on this blog albeit im keeping it up for resources.

im eternally grateful for how this community has helped me through prostitution and everything, i have amazing mutuals and i have learned so much 💜

but it has become toxic. many of yall cant handle disagreement and default to being as condescending and obnoxious as possible. one of us calling out a post is not enough, we have to dog pile everyone with a slightly shitty opinion. some of yall have severely lost the plot if you ever had it in the first place. not everything is that serious, especially when it comes to online drama.

im sick of it. so many engage in the same bullshit we accuse online trans activists of. this is an echo chamber. so many just mindlessly parrot slogans and arguments. what im very sick of is seeing single tweets or posts by a nobody, usually anonymous, being spread as receipts and shit. you know how annoying it is when everything a self proclaimed terf somewhere on social media says is taken by trans activists at face value and representative of the community when theyre not even radical feminist, just transphobic? yeah. yet a lot of yall do the same by saving and sharing „receipts“ where some random person who claims theyre trans (or not even) says some fucked up or out of pocket shit. you will always find people like that online, from any politicial „camp“ or ideological alignment!

a lot of yall seem to think that debate is about winning and not like, having an exchange of arguments and let the audience come to their own conclusion

and i just dont hate trans people. in fact i feel kinship to any female or homosexual trans person, anyone except heterosexual males. many of yall dont even realise how male centered you are when you more or less equal the trans community to heterosexual men who have a fetish for humiliation and forced feminisation or whatever. who exist and are an issue and i do wish the trans community at large would distance themselves from those men, but its not all there is to it. yes i agree that we need to protect vulnerable young people, girls and especially lesbians and gay boys, from being pushed into transitioning, i think the age of consent should be put at 21 or something, but we have to acknowledge and consider that there are people who have already transitioned and will transition in the future and i just dont understand how you cant have any empathy for them. no matter what you think about transition, many trans people ARE vulnerable and marginalised. plus consider how many detransitioned women are in this community yet yall talk about trans people as mutilated and shit its gross. in the end we can only try to establish structures that keep people from self harming, but an adult of sound mind has the right to do so anyways, including plastic surgery and trans surgeries. and i want to keep my arms open to them; but a lot of rhetoric around it spread on here will only alienate them further.

right now im saving all my essays in notes so its out of my mind. i have missed the community a lot so maybe i will return at some point but i have also been feeling better since i stopped being on radblr. i miss the rare valuable input and thoughts by other women but overall i have felt unaligned with how things have been handled on here. it has been mostly negative instead of constructive and pragmatic. ive had the impression some of yall enjoy the „being in the in-group“ community aspect more than actually being here for feminist exchange. lack of nuance, lack of empathy, lack of reason. it pains me but i have more and more come to understand why people just block us without engaging on general suspicion because ive also come to be annoyed with some of yall engaging with posts - and im on „your side“.

anyways im doing okay, im going to drug counselling regularly now and am trying to establish a stable life for those of you who inquired, and i hope anyone reading this is self reflected enough to know whether this applies to her or not. bye

[fairuzfan]

hello!! I don't know if this is appropriate (pls do not feel obligated to answer) but i was wondering what were ur thoughts on the israeli grass-roots movement Standing Together. I first found out abt them through a tumblr post that shared this substack article (https://theconnector.substack.com/p/if-its-not-helping-then-shut-the). the article immediately put an extremely bad taste in my mouth towards the movement and its founders, but i dont know if i'm being overly-critical of them.

Hey thanks for sending this in. No worries, it's totally ok. I was actually debating whether or not to publish this, mostly because I was afraid this would distract from Gaza, but I decided that it's imperative to stop normalizers from squeezing their way into the movement. Remember, the demands of the Palestinian people begin and end with liberation. Everything else is irrelevant and pointless to the cause.

So first off — I don't think you're being overly-critical of them at all. The first red flag of both this article and the group themselves is that they often exchange "Palestinian" with "Arab" and "Israeli" with "Jewish." That right off the bat shows me they have no respect for Palestinians and see Jewish people and Palestinians as mutually exclusive categories. I've spoken on this blog before about how racist it is to assume no Palestinian is Jewish and vice versa and this group really illustrates the forced division they imagine within their own goals and wording.

The article itself is quite anti-Palestinian in its erasure — it talks about avoiding words like "genocide," and "apartheid," and "ethnic cleansing" because "they are serious people trying to actually get something done." I really don't understand why not using those words makes you a serious person. If anything, it erases a description of how to define what it happening to Palestinians.

The whole redefinition of "peace" in this article and group is just calmness. These people are not advocating for peace in which families are reunited and land is given back — they are advocating for a muted version of the status quo of the current political system, just with less obviously fanatical governments. Peace cannot be attained when the people directly affected cannot have a say in defining it. They won't even say the word "apartheid." It's not some scholarly word with no meaning — it has actual consequences and effects on people (click). Palestinians are tried in military court. Their movement is monitored and restricted. It means that there are different legal systems for different people (click)! If you reject that this exists, then you're not interested in making the lives of Palestinians better — you're only interested in making your own life more comfortable.

As soon as you remove our ability to say words like "genocide" and "apartheid", you remove our ability to determine what happens specifically to Palestinians based on racism. By only saying "Palestinians are getting killed" an Israeli can come in and say "well so am I, by Hamas! Let's work together to end the killing" when it ignores that this is a systematic effort to completely wipe out all trace of Palestinians from the world.

It's like saying, "Don't say you have arthritis, say your joints hurt. And well, that happens to everyone, so let's just find a way to stop all our joints from hurting!" Then you work with people who fundamentally don't understand your pain and symptoms, oversimplifying your situation to the point of malicious universality. Sure, everyone's joints hurt, but my joints are hurting because my immune system is attacking them, not because of old age. You can't help my arthritis the same way you can wear a heat/cold patch to sooth your joints — there are other problems you're ignoring that all work together to cause me systematic pain and might cause bigger problems in the future if left untreated properly.

Similar symptoms don't mean similar causes and ignoring that is fundamentally ignoring the root issue and attempting to trivialize Palestinian's suffering. As soon as you take away the words to describe our situation, it doesn't sound so bad, does it?

Now, basically, the... weirdest part of the article is this excerpt:

People like him in Israel are very aware of how the left here is talking about them, and it’s not helping. “You can call me a colonizer or a settler,” he declared, “but I’m not going anywhere. And neither are the Palestinians.” When people chant, “Palestine will be free,” he said, “we Israelis hear, ‘without you.’ In the same way that a lot of Palestinians hear the ministers in Bibi’s government speak and think they want to do the same thing to them.” The problem as they both see it is that we are caught between two polar opposites. “Hamas believes in Greater Palestine,” Green said. “And on the other side we have people who believe in the idea of Greater Israel.” Indeed, that concept is in the charter of Netanyahu’s Likud Party. “Both sides have very problematic governing bodies,” he added. And the status quo of maintaining the occupation and managing the conflict has been exploded now.

Well, first off, Hamas is not the only one who believes in "Greater Palestine." Palestinians around the globe have been fighting for that since 1948. Second off, it's quite odd that you would center yourself in the wake of the ongoing slaughter of 10,000 people, with no end in sight. Right now, I would assume you'd be advocating for an end to the mass killings first and foremost, but you seem to be more worried about your right to stolen land.

Third, this completely erases the violence done to Palestinians the past 75+ years in favor for a "peace" that will only allow citizens of Israel comfort in their lives. Sure Palestinian citizens of Israel might have more comfortable lives, maybe (although I doubt it). But what about Gaza, which has been ravaged by Israel? What about the people in the Occupied Territories, whose economy depends on Israel, which controls it? What about the millions of refugees around the world who can't so much as see the place where they grew up because they've been exiled? The colonization of Palestine by Israel is not so old — there are people STILL ALIVE who participated in the massacres of Palestinians in 1948 and 1967 and walk around without facing any real consequences for that. My great-grandmother had seen both and she only passed away a couple of years ago. Where is the "peace" for her? Where is the "peace" for millions like her who still dream of going back to their childhood home?

This group AND the article tries to cloud your view into illustrating two opposing groups with equal power. They aren't. Palestinians, unfortunately, endure systematic oppression both within Gaza and throughout Palestine. Each and every time they try to resist peacefully, they've been shot, abducted, or imprisoned. The Great March of Return is one such example. BDS is also an example, yet that has constantly been outlawed by American governments. There have been a plethora of Palestinian artists, writers, and filmmakers who have been silenced or killed for advocating for a Free Palestine. Most recently, this included Heba Abu-Nada who was an award winning poet and writer who was martyred on October 20th after getting shelled by an Israeli missile. Ghassan Kanafani also was assassinated last century. The list goes on. Palestinians have no hope of "changing the system from within" because that internal change will always depend on the mercy of the Israelis that pretend to ally themselves with the Palestinians. Someone in Gaza cannot leave their refugee camp and go back to their ancestral home because no one in this group is advocating for that — and remember, the right of return is an essential part of the demands of the Palestinian people and we cannot ignore that for a forced "peace" that favors calmness over actual justice.

Now as we examine the group themselves, here is their mission statement/goal:

Standing Together is a progressive grassroots movement mobilizing Jewish and Palestinian citizens of Israel against the occupation and for peace, equality, and social justice. We know that the majority have far more in common than that which sets us apart and only a tiny minority benefits from the status quo. The future that we want-peace and independence for Israelis and Palestinians, full equality for everyone in this land, and true social, economic, and environmental justice — is possible. To achieve this future, we must stand together as a united front: Jewish and Palestinian, secular and religious, Mizrahi and Ashkenazi, rural and urban, and people of all genders and sexual orientations. As the largest Jewish-Arab grassroots movement in Israel, we are committed to creating an alternative to our existing reality and building the political strength to make this transformation possible.

Yet again, they are separating "Palestinian" and "Jewish," reinforcing this dichotomy that's so harmful. AND they're interchanging "Palestinian" and "Arab," which erases the diversity within Palestinian society. A group that makes the distinction between "Palestinian" and "Jewish" shows that they are not interested in the restitution of Palestinians but rather solidifying their own position within society by emphasizing a false dichotomy between "Palestinians" and "Jews" with no potential for overlap.

They mention "true justice" but "true justice" doesn't exist if there are no reparations towards the people who have been exiled and displaced, murdered, and tortured the past 75+ years. Justice is not an abstract concept — it is adhering to the demands of the people most impacted by systematic oppression, which is the Palestinians.

Looking at their leadership, there are only a couple of Palestinians with the vast majority of them being non-Palestinian. Sorry, but I'm wholly uninterested in "peace" and "equality" movements that are not made up of majority Palestinians. It's only common sense that you would expect such a movement to be led by Palestinians themselves — but this group seems to use Sally Abed as a token Palestinian who furthers their narrative of wanting "peace" in Israeli society. And even looking at their action items, you can see they make a point about emphasizing safety for the *Israeli* citizens above all else, stating that their far right government does nothing to serve the citizens of Israel. They claim it will also bring safety for Gazans, but how? You can advocate for a change in the government, yes, but if the people in Gaza are subject to getting their rights taken away based on the whims of whoever happens to be in power then no amount of "internal" activism in Israeli society will help them. They will always be at the mercy of the people who have a vested interest in erasing the people of Gaza and the West Bank so that they may take over their land.

Please remember, the civil rights movement of the 60s and the BLM Movement of this century were led by and FOR Black people of the United States because they were the ones making the demands for a change in their circumstances. Because at the end of the day, the people who are the most oppressed deserve the right to decide how their future appears and should not be dictated by the oppressor in any way.

This group tries to make a separation between the "Israeli people" and the "Israeli government." Right away, I have to laugh. They act as if the colonization of Palestine is too old for anyone to remember its origins — no. I had family living in Palestine as recently as '67. Maybe *this* generation didn't choose to settle in Palestine, but the previous generation did. And the generations before that. Before 1948, Israel didn't even exist. Hell, before a couple hundred years ago, BORDERS didn't exist. Not to mention, mandatory conscription means that most civilians will have been directly part of the suppressing forces, making them liable for the material effects of colonization. Why are people so resistant to the idea of undoing colonialism and its effects? I cannot think of any other reason than because they have a vested interest in keeping those borders up, in emphasizing nationality because they're one of the groups of people that is benefited from the establishment of a "Jewish State."

So in that, unless you call for an end to the idea of the "Jewish State" in Palestine, then I cannot think of you as a sincere advocate for Palestinian rights — this group especially plays at normalization of a muted version of the status quo rather than actual justice and reparations. The "Israeli advocates" within this group will benefit first and foremost in their own activism — therefore it's hard for me to view them in a positive light.

All activism for Palestinians should center around giving Palestinians reparations, as well as giving reparations to all indigenous victims of colonization. I think this group only tries to muddy the waters to make people forget what they're fighting for. I honestly do not understand why liberation scares you, if it means that no nation-state will have complete and total power over you and your family.

"Free Palestine" is an anti-colonial movement. Such a thing is possible — but you have to try to make it possible. Those against the unending liberation of all people are one of those who have the most to benefit from the continuation of colonization.

Right now, your main concern should be the people of Gaza and the people of the West Bank, and ensuring their safety and longevity in the face on continued erasure. "Peace" is all well and good but who exactly gets to define that? Who gets to benefit most from it? Unless you can unequivocally answer "ALL Palestinians," then you're not an ally — you're only interested in helping yourselves.

Remember — the fact that we even had to fight for our rights is itself an injustice. At the very least, ask the people who are most affected what they want before you listen to Israelis who have a vested interest in keeping the state of Israel alive.

[myfandomrealitea]

honestly, I���m really happy that you made that “we need to be allowed to be free from politics in fandom” post. And I’m really happy that it made some people angry.

Because you’re right. I’m a living example- I’m a person who just feels so much guilt if they don’t participate in this ritual of self-sacrifice in the way of helping others. And I feel like tumblr activism has come to a point where it’s not even about helping each other or mutual aid, it’s about guilt-tripping people and saying “well, you wouldn’t want to be Mr evil terrible guy, right? Right? So signal boost this! Or else you’re literally an evil transphobic homophobic racist Zionist fascist bigot”

we all have to be selfish sometimes. We have to. Selfishness is inherently neutral and we need it to survive. I’m a real example of what happens when a person tries to live a life without selfishness- guess what, I’m the worlds biggest doormat and I’m basically miserable because I’m too afraid to tell people that I just can’t do it anymore.

I’m a person who needs help right now. I’m a person who needs assistance right now. But I don’t think any of them really care. They just want someone to make into their strawman. The world isn’t black and white like that, though

The majority of Tumblr activism isn't about helping other people.

Its about giving people an outlet for their own emotions, and showing other people you're not a bad person. I have no doubt a lot of the people falling victim to this actually believe they're helping, and likely have good intentions, but realistically I see so many people just using "activism" to lash out at others and moral grandstand.

Weaponizing activism blatantly defeats the purpose of activism. There's no standard to the people who need help, and just because someone can't necessarily be an extreme activist doesn't void them from being the recipient of it.

I hope you get the help and respite you need and if I can help you or facilitate finding people to help you I'm happy to. I can also gather some resources for self-help and methods to reduce stress if those are beneficial.

And remember:

Fandom is not inherently political.

The point of activism is to make change, not to get notes on a post.

Those with broken legs cannot run. Don't cripple yourself trying to help others.

[yeosbbm]

Since Way Back…

Smut | MDNI

starring: toxic! wooyoung x moving forward! reader

genre: smut, reconnecting, exes to lovers, pinch of angst

summary: Wooyoung had a lot on his plate and due to feeling overwhelmed broke up with you, soon after seeing you out with someone else… he realizes he never really was over you..one of his attempts to win you back leads to you and him together in a hotel bed.

warnings/prevs: wooyoung toxic more so toxic in a sense he won’t let go, mirror sex, mentions of drinking, mention of masturbation, praise, dirty talk, exhibitionism, cunnilingus, protected piv

A/N: hey guys this week I haven’t been feeling well so the push it series has been paused, but a yunho fic will be out tmr LOVE YALL ! ciao 🫶🏾

“I feel like this is just what’s best for us you know?.”

Like a scene out of a terrible romance movie, he invited you over and you both drank coffee. The conversation started with a bland “how are you” “where’ve you been” exchange..you knew something was up within the past 3 months. Then he says it..crushing you. You had to keep yourself from dropping your cup and crying.

“I think we should break up..I just can’t pull you into everything that’s going on with me…I feel like this is just what’s best for us you know ?.” You sat wordlessly, biting your lip as if it’d burst. You both got through it, talking it out and sharing a last final embrace before you left the dorms.

He was able to date you through company policy but unable to be seen with you. Having to make you sign an NDA as if you were a painful secret. That with schedules, exhaustion, his mental, and life in general. He didn’t want you to get caught up in it. He didn’t want to press his stress and burdens onto you..and he felt that it was unfair. Unfair that he has to secretly refer to you..unfair you two can only go out if it’s dark out..unfair he can’t post and gloat about you, unfair he can’t love you how you deserve..so he thought it was best to let you go.

It’s been 6 months. You’ve had to piece yourself together. You got a new job as a brand ambassador, you have a workout routine, you go on walks/jogs now, you journal, you’ve been going on dates..though your feelings for them are short lived and still don’t compare to him yet.

“Healing” phase as most call it. Tonight you have another date that you met through a mutual friend.

You have on a black slip dress, light makeup and some cute wedges. You walked into the restaurant and search around for your date. You find him and you both talk and eat. However, it just wasn’t clicking. The conversation felt so one sided and it was as if he cared more about taking you home with him than getting to know you.

And of course, as if the universe wanted to play a funny but horrid joke on you two, Wooyoung walks into the same restaurant. He’s with San and Yeosang..they’re dressed somewhat smart but not anything too loud or else they’d be recognizable.

Wooyoung, looks around the restaurant with its low white light helping with the dim and minimalist design. Luxury but somewhat, bleak. However, something was pulling at him..his intuition made him seek something out. His eyes scan across the space, eyes darting across the many tables and people. Finally as if a blackhole controlled his vision… sucked all of his attention and gaze onto you.

His heart caved in. Seeing you there, your presence and beauty putting him in a state of pain and adoration. A peaceful harmony that gets squashed once he sees your plus one. You’re touching that guys arm..you’re smiling at him ? Wooyoung sees this guy’s gaze drinking you in, the same way he used to. He doubts that this guy sees the things he saw in you though.

Yeosang notices Wooyoung’s stare and his pause at the dining room entrance, “Everything ok ?” Yeosang whispers to Woo.

“Yea yea let’s find the table.” Wooyoung says with a shake of his head beginning to walk off.

San nudges Yeosang and lightly points over to your table. “Fuck..did you know she’d be here.” San shakes his head with his eyebrows raised in mutual surprise.

Later that night, you went home alone luckily after coming up with an excuse good enough to not go home with your date. Then you get a notif from “Kpop News” about an ateez member sighting and realize Wooyoung was just at the same restaurant…

Wooyoung couldn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned; memories of you kept invading his head.

Your laugh, your love and care, the inside jokes and how your presence calmed him. A painful twinge hits his chest. Your curves, legs, lips..the way you cried out his name and how he’d have you shaking. He looks down and sees the tent in his pants. He had to relieve himself in the shower.

-The Next Morning-

“….Roses..?” You stare at the bouquet that was at your front door and inspect it. It was a beautiful combination of red roses, baby’s breath and black lace bows. You see a notecard stamped to the wrapping reading, “You looked lovely last night, hope you’re well.” You quirk a brow and assume your date was the one who sent it.

“Last night was nice and the roses are beautiful.” You texted and got a quick reply back.

“Roses ?”

You think he’s probably doing a little joke about not knowing about the roses but then you get a text, assuming it’s him admitting to his ruse but no, it’s from an unlabeled number.

“Did you get the flowers ?”

“Yess but who is this ?” Your mind ponders on who could send them anonymously, and which date would go out of their way to surprise you like this. Then it clicks, and your heart stops and you stare at your phone incredulously.

“Wooyoung ? …”

“Can we talk or can I see you sometime.” Sent . Wooyoung put his phone down without the screen facing up. He’s in the middle of a meeting with the members. Yeosang can sense what’s up. “A flower bouquet is bold…don’t you think” Wooyoung quits biting his nails and looks up at Yeosang annoyed. “I’m not getting back with her we just need closure.”

Translating to, he needs to see you again because watching you give yourself to someone else is eating at him. “Closure ? Sending roses is not what closure is,,” Wooyoung shrugs his shoulders, “So ?” Yeo rolls his eyes and begins to rub his forehead. “It’s ok to want her back Wooyo but be honest with yourself.” San reassures while patting his back.

“ You guys don’t understand...that guy she was with….absolute sleaze.” Wooyoung tried his best to hide his frustration.

“That doesn’t mean interfere with her love life now after 6 whole months..”

“Plus you’ve had your share of sleazy girls since then.” San carefully reminds Woo.

“ First of all there’s been one girl and it lasted 4 days max she was rude and showy and full of herself and…ANYWAYS.” How stressed he is has fully became transparent. “I just think she needs someone better and not as lame or boring..(like me).”

“What.” Yeosang clocked the last part immediately, his bestfriend was down bad.

Ding. You replied to Woo’s message. Wooyoung and Yeosang looked up at each other. “Well…answer her.” “Shit. What if she said no.” Woo covers his face with his hands “Then you’ll have to leave her alone.” Woo checks it, and makes a face of confusion. “She said ‘Meet and talk about what.”

You sat there staring at your phone and sigh. It’s not the first time Woo has interacted since the break up. He’d check on you every now and again. It is sweet but would sometimes make your chest hurt all over again.

You’re torn on meeting with him because the chances of you bringing your hopes up and it being a disaster, as well as it being better than you thought but the possibility of getting lost in old emotions and ruining your progress.

Fuck it.

“You have to respond to get a solid answer.” San chimes in.

“Well should I tell her just to talk and something to drink or-”

Ding.

“She- she texted again” Wooyoung stares at the notification appalled.

“…well…..LOOK AT IT ?” San says while whacking Woo on the shoulder. All Wooyoung did was stutter and fumble his phone.

“Jesus Christ Woo.” Yeosang whispers sliding his hand down his face, exhausted from the ridiculousness. Yeosang picks up the phone and raises his brows.

“She said you could meet her, you need to choose the time and place.”

Hongjoong begins scolding the trio of guys for having a sidebar convo during the meeting. Whilst Hongjoong is lecturing them, Woo mentally starts planning for the date.

-The Date-

Wooyoung chose for you to meet him at this newer restaurant. He actually put a lot of thought into the meet. He sent you a dress a few days before once again leaving a note. “Can’t wait to see you in it.”

You were surprisingly excited about the date. You initially dreaded it because you couldn’t tell if when you saw Wooyoung if you’d cry or want to punch him in the chest. Plus the day before the you and your previous date got into a heated hurtful argument that had you emotional. So maybe seeing Wooyoung will help you feel better.

You walk into the restaurant early, needing time to prepare for seeing him face to face again. You talk to the hostess, “Hello I’m here for a reservation under the name Jung Wooyoung.” She types it out on her server, “Oh ! Yes, your plus one is already at the table.” God. You walk to your table and see Wooyoung sitting there.

He looks terribly handsome. You’re hoping you don’t look like a hopeless dope staring at him. You both chirped quick hellos to each other, Wooyoung is smiling which of course, is so contagious you smile as well. You take a seat and can smell his cologne. “You look gorgeous,,I’m glad you came to see me.” You fix your hair a bit and adjust yourself in your seat, all you can do is utter a “Thanks.” Your nerves were killing you and Wooyoung could tell. “Are you nervous..I know it’s been a while but it’s just me.”

You shrug and cross your legs. Wooyoung uses your lack of attention on him to stare at your body. He knew this dress would be the best fit. “Idk I guess I’m not sure how to feel about seeing you again.” You look up to see Wooyoung staring he’s observing you. He quickly grabs his glass and gestures the waiter over to pour you both a drink. “I understand what you mean…I’m nervous too…when I saw you a few days ago my heart dropped to my feet.” You remember the headlines about him being at the same restaurant.

He passes you your drink and takes a firm hold of his. He lifts it up. “But, anyway,, cheers to us getting over our fears.” Your heart isn’t speeding due to you finally relaxing. Wooyoung still looks handsome, flashing his prince like grin towards you. “Cheers.”

- Time skip -

It has been hours and you and Woo were still at the restaurant. Drinks upon drinks have been poured for you both but luckily, neither of you were drunk. Even little phases of being tipsy has passed. You guys talked about everything and reminisced about the past. The physical distance between you closed while you sat directly by him. This is the best conversation you had at a date in months.

Wooyoung was finishing a joke up before you both broke out in laughter you leaning into him and hiding your face in his shoulder. This made his heartthrob and he’s back to staring at you with heart eyes, you’re too caught up in your laughter to notice of course. You two’s laughter finally settles while you both returned to sipping your drinks.

“So..what about that guy…that you’re with.” You look up from your now half empty drink and squint. “Guy I’m with ?…I’m not seeing anyone ?” Wooyoung bites his lip and taps his hand on the table. “The guy at the restaurant.”

The argument you had with him the other day replays in your mind “..yea I don’t think I want to talk about him.” Wooyoung’s hand that’s next to your’s fully slides over on top and lightly squeezes. “If he did anything to you know I’ll ask the guys if-” You take your other hand from your drink and place it on his shoulder. “Wooyoung no, no we just got into an argument..we just didn’t mix well.” Woo relaxes a bit.

“What was the argument about..if I can be nosy…” You want to call his question nosy but you know you REALLY had to vent. “He thought we were taking things too slow, so stupid, we argued at a drive in and I cried. Ugh.” Wooyoung has to keep himself from clenching his jaw and balling his fist, the mere thought of someone talking to you sideways still angers him. “You don’t deserve that at all that guys a damn idiot.” However, through his anger he realizes this is a great opportunity plus when you two were together he’d always use humor + flirting to cheer you up.

“I remember when we argued I never made you cry..except you know every now and again.” Wooyoung smirks a bit. “You never made me cry when fighting what do you mean.” You laugh while trying to remember when he made you have anything but happy tears. Wooyoung leans back, manspreading his hand on your knee. “I mean in bed….”

A flash of heat runs across your face, you can’t tell if it’s from the margarita or flashbacks. Flashbacks of you falling apart on his dick and becoming a pliant mess for him. Tears welling in your eyes from pleasure while being praised by him.

Wooyoung’s eyes are on you and he licks his lips. You attempt to ignore his stare. “Of course that’s what you meant.” You turn your head away and wave the waiter over to bring another drink. Wooyoung is tracing light shapes into your knee and upper thigh, something you haven’t noticed till now and once again..must ignore.

Wooyoung sees the look on your face..it’s a face he knows all too well. When you’re starting to get needy.

“Is he as good.” Woo’s head is tilted and a sly smile plastered on his face. “At what..as a person..no he’s super shallow and lowkey is a fuckboy but..” You pause because of Woo’s chuckle.

“What’s so funny.” You’re smiling but heavily curious. “I mean is he as good as me…does he please you.” You feel another flash of heat, you adjust yourself on your seat and now realize how close you and Wooyoung are in this booth seat. You’re a leg movement away from being propped on his lap. “Mm we never really got to…you know.”

Wooyoung looks overjoyed to know you didn’t let him hit. A grin is now plastered on his face. “It’s not like he could handle you anyway..pussy would’ve destroyed him.”

You both laugh and lean into each other. “No but seriously, it’s not like anyone can do it like me.” You roll your eyes and sip your new drink. “Oh really.” Wooyoung’s hand on your knees gradually gets higher up. “Yes really I mean..I’d have you shaking from my hands alone.” Wooyoung experimentally brush his hand on your inner thigh, you know that this is wrong. Letting your ex get you all hot in public and letting them play with you under the table but. Fuck it.

You opened your legs up a bit more, giving Wooyoung the green light to do as he pleases. He lightly brushes his hand up and down your cunt through the thin lingerie. After some teasing touches he finally brings his hand down your panties.

You gasp and go to reach for his hand but he swats your hand away. “Shhh don’t want everyone to see how needy you are do you.” He rolls and rubs deep circles into your bud and lightly prods your hole, but never fully bringing it in. Your breath is shaky and he starts rubbing your clit faster making a small moan tumble from your mouth. “So wet…did you miss me that bad.”

“Let’s get outta here…..please.” Wooyoung smiles and takes his hands from your panties. He then takes his phone out to reserve a room at a hotel.

-At the Hotel-

You and Wooyoung finally walk into the room, it’s on the hotels highest floor, a penthouse. Wooyoung and you are pawing at each other and kissing fervently. He removes his shoes and jacket and unbuttons his dress shirt. You slide down the straps of your dress causing it to slide down a bit further showing your cleavage.

You and him finally get into the main bedroom. It has a large king bed with blunt but warm golden lighting and a grande body mirror in front of the bed.

“You’re not drunk right ? You actually want to do this..if not I’ll take you home right now..” you shush him with a quick kiss on the cheek. “I do…I’m sober.” Wooyoung nods assured and after looking at you once over ensuring you weren’t intoxicated, he goes in for a kiss.

The kiss is deep, it felt like no time passed between you both at all. The kiss made your knees knock and consumed you with heat, the sexual tension between you two finally being broken. He takes his hands and rubs up and down the back of your thighs and slides the bottom of your dress up to your waist and grips your ass. “Go to the mirror.”

You both step over to it, your dress still pulled up exposing your lower half. You can feel Wooyoung’s bulge straining his pants behind you. Without any hesitation Wooyoung pulls your panties to the side and begins playing with your folds, taking note of the amount of arousal already pooling there.

He wordlessly pumps a single finger in a while maneuvering to play with your clit. You let out small sighs and whines. “Only I’ve seen you like this right, nobody can even get you this wet can they?” He brings another finger in, you can hear your wetness and feel the vibrations of his fingers hitting the right spot flow through you. He alternates between slowly curling and scissoring them into you to finger fucking you without mercy.

Your eyes are closed, too lost in all the feelings. They flutter back open when he suddenly removes his fingers and goes in front of you. He pops the two fingers in his mouth and sighs of satisfaction. Then he gets on his knees.

“Hold this for me baby or I’ll ruin it.” You grab the front of your dress and hold it up for him. He pulls your panties fully down before licking along your slit, stopping at your clit to playfully flick it. Your knees buckle again but Wooyoung places a hand on your calf. “No. Stand and watch us.” You look back into the mirror, your eyes are in a daze and lips are plump and swole from the constant biting out of pleasure.

“None of them make you look like that.” Wooyoung heads back into your cunt and buries his face. Lapping and messily eating you out with no neatness. You struggle holding yourself up and having to see your own eyes sinful look in the mirror. He begins to raise his hands on your hips making you grind yourself on his face.

You look down momentarily and see Wooyoung looking up at you, his eyes giving nothing but a low intent stare. You’re riding his face and he sucks and tongues down your cunt, occasionally bringing a single hand down to use his fingers on your hole.

Soon it all starts straining and you can feel yourself on the brink of cumming. Wooyoung already knew that tho, and stops. Popping his mouth off your clit before pulling away. Before you can protest from the edging he backs you into the bed and takes his cock out. He reaches in his pocket and takes out a condom to put it on.

He opens your legs and begins to rub the tip across your folds and tapping it on your clit making you cry out from the stimulation. “Tell me if it’s too much.” It never was too much. However, Woo was cautious and you nodded. “What’s the color if you want to stop ?” You remember it automatically, “Red.” Wooyoung let out a soft grin and coo’s “Good girl.” then Wooyoung slides his cock in and begins deep stroking. You start to moan uncontrollably, feeling that one spot inside being constantly hit and prodded by his cock. Your moans spur Wooyoung on making him fuck into you harder.

Wooyoung bends your legs to your chest and starts making deeper thrust. He leans down and brings a breast into his mouth, nipping at teasing the bud while crashing his hips into yours.

“None of them can fuck you like I can, can they ?” You struggle to say an answer from the haze of pleasure you’re in. Wooyoung grabs your neck causing you to focus. “Did they ever make you cum baby?” He says in a fake empathetic tone. Finally you control your moans and utter your truthful answer. “ Barely, none of them,,they- they weren’t you.” A string of moans fell from you as Wooyoung’s dick kissed your cervix.

“That’s right, stand up for me baby.” He pulls out which makes you let out a quiet gasp by the sudden emptiness. He brings you back to the mirror and has you lean forward, hands on the wall from each side of the mirror. Your back naturally arches from the position and Wooyoung runs his hands down your back. He makes you look into the mirror. “Look at you, so so pretty I missed seeing you like this…I think about it every night.”

The face you saw wasn’t new..before you and Wooyoung went your separate ways he managed to pull this fucked out face out of you frequently. One hand is caressing your jaw while the other is sensually running it down your back. This bent over position has you anxious for more. “Wooyoung please..I need you.” Wooyoung places light kisses on your back. “What do you need.” You’re clenching around nothing, “Show me how much you missed me.” He aligns his cock at your entrance again and plunges right back in.

He fucks into you once more this time with a consistent rhythm that makes you see stars. You can’t help but get louder practically crying on his cock. He fucks you at a pace all too familiar, your body knew it like clockwork. Then you feel the build up inside crashing down. “Go ahead baby..cum I know you can’t take it.” The orgasm washes over you, making your muscles stiffen and eyes rolled back.

He continues to fuck into you, causing you to be overstimulated and tearing up. Skin slapping and both of your moans and pants fill the room for what feels like hours. You came all over his cock again and then after a few more moments of him chasing his own high, his cum spills into the condom.

He ruts into you a couple more times to ease himself through the orgasm. He hasn’t felt a release like that in so long, his vision is blurred in a sense and he shudders. With the small bit of strength he had left he pulled you close to him and backed you both onto the bed.

After disposing the condom and a shared shower you’re both in the hotel bed nude. Wooyoung laid on his back while your head rests on his chest, legs entangled with each others. His presence causing you internal chaos and bliss simultaneously.

But then, it dawns on you..what if this was a quick needed fuck. What if it’s all the same again tomorrow and you’re back to being strangers. You decide to get your hopes down and not allow them to rise.

“So when do you plan on leaving.” You whisper. Your expectations are tomorrow in the morning he’ll be gone and fade back into the wind as someone you once knew.

Wooyoung gives a puzzled look before shaking his head. “Not until whenever you want to leave..I’m staying y/n.”

“You’re crazy..” you run a hand over your face, avoiding his gaze. He holds you tighter, “I mean it y/n, I’m back for a reason, I can’t let you go…I’ll find a way for the both of us.”

You don’t answer knowing that you’ll short circuit and become another crying mess; tears from frustration from the past few months releasing and how he’s back after months of moving forward. As well as tears of relief and being glad he’s there.

He snuggles you closer onto him and begins whispering sweet nothings and a repetitive “I’ve missed yous”. In contrast of the sweetness he also has a firm hold of your body that screams possessiveness whilst also mumbling about how no man understands you or your body like he does.

Through the silence, Wooyoung can sense you’re still awake, and begins tracing shapes on your skin again. “Before all this what have you been up to.” You laugh from the sudden calm casual question.

“Mm what’s with the sudden interview.” You joke to him with a half smile, already falling asleep. He kisses your forehead and rubs your side.

“I can’t help but wonder how you’ve been babe.”

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

This week we begin our farewell to two brilliant shows and welcome a newcomer. Of the shows airing now, all but one are streaming weekly on Gaga and the other is available via fansub.

Takara's Treasure

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses This was the final week for the main story (don’t despair, we get a special episode next week), and the show wrapped up our core romance arc beautifully. At its heart this is a simple story between two boys seeking connection and working up the confidence to pursue what they want without fear. We spent the first half of the show grounded in Taishin’s country mouse in the big city journey, and the second slowly peeling back Takara’s layers until we understood just how mutual their affection is. I was so impressed with the show’s steady, patient approach to revealing this character to us, and I love that through knowing and liking Taishin (perhaps even more than 100%), Takara is getting more comfortable with himself, reaching for what he wants, and having genuine moments of joy. I’m also excited for him to get to know Taishin’s family and feel some of the warmth and support he’s been missing. Looking forward to whatever glimpse of their future the show gives us next week.

Happy of the End

gif by @putterphubase

We knew this one was going to be dark, and hoo boy is it. Content warnings for the first two episodes:

Assault, child abandonment, childhood sexual slavery, domestic abuse, family violence, human trafficking, rape, sexual exploitation

We meet our main characters this week and learn the basics of their backstories (though there are still gaps that I expect will be filled in later on). Both of these men have lived hard lives, and it shows. They are not particularly good people, neither of them responds normally to the situations they find themselves in, their emotional wavelengths are often odd, and there is a recklessness to their behavior that speaks to a kind of ambivalence about survival. They recognize something in each other that draws them together, but even as they share their stories and spend time together, there are barriers between them. This story has a fairly bleak worldview, so I don’t expect it will follow the usual romance beats and I’m not counting on a happy ending. @bengiyo pointed out that the show seems to be narrated from a future perspective after the relationship ends, and @illgiveyouahint said the show feels “gently hopeless” which I think is a rather apt description of its tone.

This show is beautifully shot and feels steady and clear about its subject matter, but its themes are not for everyone. Proceed with caution, and ask for content warnings if you need them—I expect there will be difficult content in every episode. This one is dropping two episodes a week on Gaga, and there is also a fansub ongoing from @isaksbestpillow. Siiri’s subs will likely be more accurate, but I recommend at least background streaming on Gaga to make sure the show gets the official views.

I Hear the Sunspot

gif by @heretherebedork

I have already talked plenty about my current feelings of frustration with this show, so I won’t belabor the point. This week Taichi dropped out of university to go work full time at his new job despite his friends’ protests, we got a long Maya flashback and another instance of her clashing with Taichi, Kohei and Taichi continued to not say anything honest to each other as they said their goodbyes, and Kohei confessed without Taichi processing it yet again. The final episode appears to include a time skip, and then maybe they will have the conversation we’ve been waiting on for six weeks. Fingers crossed the finale makes all of this time spent in stasis feel worth it.

Note: I have to get this up early today due to my travel schedule, and at time of posting episode 7 of Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding was not yet available with English subs. I imagine @isaksbestpillow will post sometime soon and I will share when it goes up and include final thoughts in next week’s round up.

Tagging @bengiyo for the anime update.

[mirandasidefics]

Its more as if why Rhysand and Azriel behaves in a certain hostile way and passive aggressive towards reader. Especially Rhysand is so short tempered and quick to be angered when it comes to reader because he's scared he might lose everything he earned due to him suspecting reader of being smth

I think I had answered a similar question to this previously here, but I can expand or clarify in this post.

Rhysand:

Rhysand's actions regarding Reader are 99% driven by fear. He fully believes that she is in Prythian for a reason and was very likely brought to their world by a higher power. This is based on the fact that time and time again she has failed to demonstrate any capability to use magic and has showed no signs of having magical power.

This is a frightening notion for someone like Rhysand. He finally has everything he wanted in life and suddenly there's all these fucking people showing up in his court that aren't supposed to be there.

Bryce arrived by accident! And after she arrived she tells Rhysand that, oh by the way, the beings that used to enslave the Fae are wanting to come back to conquer your world again. Thus, they are very likely going to kill you (which would then in turn mean the death of his mate because of that asinine mutual death agreement they made in ACOWAR), the death of his son who's his only heir, and the enslavement and/or death of the rest of his loved ones. Rhysand recognizes that he is at risk of losing EVERYTHING now that people from other worlds have the ability to randomly arrive.

Those from Midgard are working on a plan to take out the Asteri before the Asteri find a way to return to Prythian. So, he offers them aid and doesn't pick a fight because they could just allow the Asteri right through the portal(s) and its on sight for all involved and likely ends with the destruction of Prythian as they know it.

The same cannot be said for Reader. For all Rhysand knows there is a stronger more formidable foe waiting for the right chance to strike because of Reader's presence. Therefore, she is the only target that Rhysand can take his fear fueled emotions out on. To his knowledge there is no reasonable explanation for Reader being there (even if he recognizes that the reason has just not yet been revealed).

Unfortunately, his frustrations and fear end up transferring over to Prythian's "on world" problems such as Beron and the Autumn Court, Tamlin and the Spring Court, and Koschei. So, he also starts blaming Reader's presence/existence for those issues having not yet been resolved. She effectively becomes the scape goat for EVERYTHING.

Does any of this make his actions right or justified? Hell no. Does it make for an interesting narrative that is not exactly the standard for how Rhys is portrayed in fanfiction. I'll let all of you be the judge. I will say that there is room for growth regarding his and Reader's dynamic, which may or may not include Rhys getting his ass handed to him by certain individuals.

Azriel:

Azriel does not hate nor dislike Reader to any extent. He was following orders when he interrogated Reader because that is part of his job as Spy Master. He didn't like having to torture her, especially when it became apparent that she knew absolutely nothing about how she got there.

He is, however, frustrated at the situation. He feels a pull towards her but cannot for the life of himself figure out what that is. This results in Azriel becoming jealous of Reader's relationship with Lucien and Ruhn. He sees how she has sought them out for comfort so easily and wishes that he could provide the same. He has convinced himself that he wants to make up for the pain he initially caused her. So, there are times when his jealousy unfortunately makes him be an asshole towards her via snide comments.

Reader has pointed out this behavior and explained what the differences and barriers are to them becoming close in the same capacity she is with the other males. Azriel is trying to be more mindful of her trauma that is directly in correlation to him and his actions early on in their shared history. He is also learning to adjust his behaviors and the way he interacts with her to ensure that she does start to feel safe and respected when in his company.

I personally feel that when it comes to matters of the heart, Azriel's personality and intelligence go out the window entirely. He is a different person from the calculating and intimidating spy master and mindful and courteous friend we all know he is capable of being in canon. His self-loathing and feelings of being unworthy take center stage and he becomes his own worst enemy. (I could write a whole post about how this is most apparent in his interactions with Mor and Elain, but I won't).

TL:DR- Rhysand's behaviors are based on fear. Azriel's behaviors are based on jealousy.

I hope that answers your question and provides some clarity on Reader's dynamics with Rhysand and Azriel.

[colebegins]

i said this all in the tags of abigail’s post, but it was so long that i’m putting it in its own post

i completely understand where this breakup came from, and i am not upset with either of the characters involved in it. i appreciate the slight insight it gives into tommy’s lived experiences and his expectations, as well as the deep seated loneliness that he has alluded to in nearly every episode he has been in. the longing and the hope for connection and family and stability.

so yes, the breakup feels a bit self-sacrificial and self-destructive because he’s doing it now in an effort to protect his own heart. he thinks breaking things off now and dealing with that heartache now would be easier than waiting for it to ‘inevitably’ happen later when he is even more invested. and that makes sense!!! it does not come across, to me, as out of character at all. josh’s great speech even highlighted the scars that come along with queer people’s struggles (pre-glee) with themselves and with their relationships. there are so many experiences that could’ve left tommy scarred that would lead to this feeling that he cannot be buck’s last relationship. so this breakup, while it hurts, makes sense based on tommy’s reasonings, experiences, and conclusions he has come to.

but he also deserves for someone to prove him wrong.

my struggle with this breakup comes from the finality of the post-ep interviews. without the interviews, as a viewer who just saw the episode and is waiting for the next ones to come out without knowing any bts stuff or reading any articles, this would feel like a great path forward for buck to learn what he wants and to go for it — to fight for it.

buck discovering his bisexuality and being in a relationship with a man was never going to automatically solve all of buck’s issues with himself and with relationships, and specifically his place in relationships. but for the past 13 (?) episodes we have seen buck become more secure with himself and his space — the loft has had so many homey and cosy little decor changes, and it has been so interesting to see him feel more comfortable while making his place more comfortable. all of that makes the breakup feel sudden and unexpected, but that was the point. tommy surprised himself too, he even said so. they both felt comfortable and happy, but they also both have their own hangups. but also, they both actually want the same things. they both want love, stability, and mutual care, respect, and understanding. tommy thinks that buck will inevitably, accidentally, not maliciously, break his heart. and tommy does not think he can handle that, which i understand. buck has the opportunity to prove him wrong. but it seems (from interviews) that this is the last we will be seeing of tommy and their relationship.

now to take all of that, and have his next step be to just let this relationship go completely as he uses his old (self admitted) unhealthy coping strategies could be an interesting narrative arc to go down, but, for me, it would really only be worth it if he recognizes this old behavior coming back again, understanding where it’s coming from, and finds security in understanding what he wants. i want buck to feel happy, secure, safe, and loved. no matter who that is with — be it tommy, eddie, or some other person he happens to meet later. no matter who he is with, he is bisexual, and i will always be thankful that we have had this journey of self-discovery with him (which i hope we will continue to see ore development of — would also love if they would actually use the word ‘bisexual’ on the show). buck deserves to have growth and stability within himself and in his relationships, which is very clearly something he wants. he deserves to have that after eight seasons.

at the end of the day though, i will still feel upset for this end to tommy’s story, because he also deserves to feel happy, secure, safe, and loved. i hope he gets that one day. for now, that is what fan works are for.

[lxmelle]

“Best Friend” / 親友

I’ve been mulling over this for a few days, wondering if I’m overthinking things, or if there is actually something to it.

Gojo and Geto are like a pair of parents. And I think it’s deliberate. Hear me out.

See, from a non-native pov, I can pick apart this coined phrase for best friends, shinyuu “親友” or “family friend” into its individual kanji: 親 and 友

The first kanji on its own, oya “親” can be read as “parents”. The second kanji on its own is tomo “友” can be read as “friend”. How a kanji character is read changes according to context within a sentence, topic, or what it is paired with. It can be difficult to explain if you’re not used to the language, so I’ll leave it at that for the purposes of not complicating this post.

They both considered each other their 親友 - best friend. There is only one pair of people who considered each other this “best friend” terminology in the series. Gege could have used Nakama 仲間, or Brother, or even just Tomodachi 友達. TaisetsunaHito 大切な人 is definitely a step too far. No other best friend. Yuji is several people’s “brother” but not best friend. Gojo and Geto are a pair. A duo. The canon-confirmed “たった一人の親友” my one and only best friend status is mutual.

As friends, we know they split up. There is no mention of 親友 / best friend-ism at this point. But they unequivocally considered each other as such, and they never ever had another 親友 until their dying day.

The fact that there is the kanji for “parent” in the phrase for “best friend” is poetic. “Oya/親” is obviously the same word used by Gojo in the kfc breakup scene, because that’s the kanji for it, and that’s what Geto did - kill his parents.

I’ll use this to illustrate:

親 = parents (consisting of mum + dad).

親友🤍 + 親友🖤

To add to the latter, this potential theme, they both go onto adopting kids. Their different parenting styles speak for themselves ofc, but that’s by the by.

Gojo and Geto’s separation played a part in setting off this huge domino effect too. Geto also described how his parents are not his only family now. We also know he considers close non-blood-related persons to be as “family” - like how he offered Kuroi the acceptance of her feelings towards Amanai as “family”. He saw Gojo and the school as family - that is, until he saw how the system was willing to sacrifice their own kind. It isn’t a stretch to see the parallels between what Geto is sharing about severing that bond with his parents (and also with Gojo) and finding another “family” by choice.

Obviously Gege isn’t drawing the parallel by bringing parents into it just due to their best friend status. I headcanon that it was to start anew, not be a hypocrite, to spare them from the monster he’d become, and to eliminate the likelihood they’d be used against him in any way. The last 2 reasons would be to drive in the emphasis that there is a similarity with Rika (who was rumoured to have been the reason for her parents’ deaths although they occurred separately) and... that this would mean that Geto was also separating from his “family” in HI - the duo that was Gojo and Geto. Gojo ascended without him in his quest to become the strongest, and Geto descended to pursue his twisted form of meaning to make his ideal a reality.

It might just be reaching and a coincidence, but I remember that Gege loves these little itty bitty details in character and lore design - like birthdates, dates, flower language, religion, specific kanji used for names, etc - just to name a few. It helps him illustrate significance and I guess adds a touch of sophistication and layering in his storytelling. I absolutely love it. We know by design SatoSugu / Gojo and Geto are meant to be counterparts, so black & white, yin and yang, light and dark, elite and common, even their names are quite fitting, GojO SatoRU and GetO SuguRU .

The kanji / characters selected are also deliberate - Satoru 悟 being “enlightenment” and Suguru 傑 being “outstanding”. The Gojokesa 五条袈裟 was also deliberate, Geto 夏油 has the word “summer” as part of his name and his birthday is setsubun (1st day of spring) where ghosts/evil spirits are chased away. Gojo’s is the heaviest snowfall.

My examples are limited to just satosugu, but you know other characters have similar situations with how the kanji for their names were chosen - e.g. simplest that come to mind is 七海建人 Nanami : 七 = 7 and his ratio technique 7:3 and his hair style too 70%30% parting, 海 = sea, 建人 = human builder (…lol, Gojo entrusted Yuji to him after all…); utahime 歌 = song/music, etc.

My point is that there are a lot of little details like these, so I concluded that I’ll just share this thought I had. The pair of 親友 breaking up is a bit like “partners in crime” no longer being partners anymore, and went about their separate ways but fostered “families” of their own.

TLDR: scene in front of the KFC was really a breakup (◞‸◟)