#the misogyny is really popping up with these guys

[catofoldstones]

The fact that the episode where Arya assists Tywin and famously says “most girls are stupid” corresponds directly with the chapter in the books where she overhears Chiswyck laughing about how the mountain and his lackeys (him included) gang-raped a 13 year old child, and this harrows and angers Arya so much that she adds all of these people to her prayer kill list and uses her one of her three precious death-wishes with Jaqen H’ghar is the reason I will be personally beating the bloody shit out of d&d.

#how can you turn such a pivotal moment such a delicate scene with systemic gendered violence #into mOsT giRLs aRE stUPiD #get a hold of yourself #the show was bad before s8 #so bad #and I would love to say that this was the canary in the coal mines #but that was actually s1e1 #game of thrones #at the club beating the shit out of d&d #you are free to join me #got rewatch #arya stark #acok #asoiaf #the misogyny is really popping up with these guys #<- edit

[joonberriess]

teeth. ☆ j.jk

⋆ TAGS — ghostface!jk, breaking in, TW: non-con to dub-con (oc does NOT consent verbally even if she does participate hence the dub-con), brief knife play, cunnilingus, degradation, misogyny(?), objectification, blow jobs, brief face/skull fucking, fuckin in the woods, unprotected sex, nasty talk by jk, possessive!jk, hints of kidnapping/captivity, fear play, facial, jk is lowkey yandere, iconic what’s your favorite scary movie scene but my style, DEAD DOVE, slight praises, ass n coochie worship cause jk is a ass man certified LMAO, cheerleader!oc, college setting

⋆ WORD COUNT — 4.2k

⋆ now playing: teeth - 5sos ⋆

“Color me your color, baby, color me your car, color me your color, darling, I know who you are,”

The music blared loudly, you hummed under your breath while lining over your lips with a dark lip pencil. The hour was getting closer and you realized you had to speed things up if you wanted to meet with your friends on time (you had been stuck in your cheer uniform ALL DAY). You moved around your room quickly while tossing articles of clothing onto your bed, no outfit in particular on your mind.

You uncapped the red lipstick and ran it over your lips slowly, filling in the blank spaces and blending the two colors to perfection. You decided a white long sleeve tucked into your mini jean skirt would serve as a perfect combo. If you were lucky, maybe that cute college senior Kim Seokjin would give you his jacket to wear. The idea has you smiling like a dummy.

Before you can slip out of your skirt the phone downstairs begins ringing loudly. You could have very well ignored it but you don’t feel like listening to your parents nag at you for not picking up the phone if it happens to be them. “Ugh, seriously.” You mutter and quickly run downstairs to the kitchen.

“Hello?” You softly sigh while twirling a piece of your hair around your finger.

“Hello,” some guy’s deep voice greets you, he says nothing else and you tilt your head in confusion muttering a soft ‘yes?’. “Who is this?”

Immediately you frown in confusion and balance the phone between your ear and shoulder, “Who are you trying to reach?” You pop a piece of chicken from your mom’s leftover casserole into your mouth.

“What number is this?”

“Uhh..what number are you trying to reach?”

“I don’t know.”

You hold back a deep sigh and check the time behind you on the clock, you really don’t have patience for this nonsense. Especially for some weirdo who’s either prank calling or just doesn’t know how to work a phone. “Then you have the wrong number,” you eat another piece of casserole, “it happens, take it easy though.” You hang up quickly before he can utter another word to you.

You had just set the phone down when it began to ring all over again, “Ugh…hello?” You stare at the decorative ceiling in annoyance, “Hello?” You say loudly when the other person doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me? Just wanted to apologize, ‘s all.” He says with a teasing lilt, but it sounds more condescending than anything, “Just wanna..get to know you.”

You ignore the nasty little shiver you get down your spine when he talks to you like that, a deeper part of you is literally drooling over how this guy’s voice sounds but too bad he’s a weirdo though.. Your gut twists uncomfortably as your eyes dart to the side to look out the patio doors. “Okay..well you’re forgiven now, bye.” You go to hang up.

“Wait–if you tell me your name I’ll tell you mine.”

You can’t help your scoff, “Yeah, right. I don’t think so, why the hell would I give you my name? You sound like a total creep right now, you know that?” You huff and open your fridge up for a drink, “Besides, what’s your deal anyways? You keep calling and I’m obviously not who you’re looking for.” You complain while uncapping a bottle of water.

“Because,” he calmly starts, “I wanna know who I’m lookin’ at right now.. Pretty red lips and a tight little uniform on,” he draws out huskily.

You immediately go still, “W-What…how do you..?” you look around the empty kitchen and living room. “This isn’t funny.” You quickly head down the hall to the front door, making sure the locks are set before you go back to the living room and make sure the patio doors are locked as well.

“Never said it was babydoll.” He muses, “Though I do gotta admit, red looks spectacular on you, wonder if you got more around here in your drawers.” He trails off, the sound of drawers slamming close and another opening could be heard on the other side of the line.

You wait with a bated breath listening carefully, you slowly turn your head to look up at the ceiling. There’s a low thumping noise that follows the sounds you hear from the phone. Your eyes slip shut as you try to control the sob that’s about to come out of your throat, “What do you want from me?” You croak in a tiny voice.

“What’s your favorite scary movie sweetheart, hm?” His footsteps are heavy as he starts walking around upstairs in your room.

You blink your tears away and stumble towards the hallway to your only escape route: your dad’s office. “I-I don’t like any scary movies,” you whimper quietly, “p-please, I don’t wanna die.” You sniffle. You can hear him humming in the hallway upstairs now, causing you to duck into the office as silent as you can.

“That wasn’t my question. Time’s ticking babydoll, I’m not exactly a patient guy you know.”

“H-Halloween..!” You whisper-yell, “I like Halloween.”

“Which one?” He asks, you can hear him loud and clear at the bottom of the staircase, “Hm?”

You sniffle softly and back away, “Rob Zombie’s version,” you utter softly and hear him pause in his footsteps. He stands there for a few seconds before he slowly draws nearer and nearer. Your eyes squeeze shut as a terrified whimper escapes your lips, before you can plead with him the door slowly creaks open and a hooded figure stands in the doorway with the phone held up to his ear. You stare at him, the phone slipping from your trembling hand as it slams to the floor with a loud thud.

He tilts his head to the side and raises his gloved hand to wave at you. “Hey there sweetheart,” he purrs from under the mask.

You scream out in fear and knock over the desk chair, you’re lucky as hell your dad has a set of patio doors himself. You slip through the doors and run down the small hill, looking back and forth in time to see the hooded figure chasing after you.

The sounds of leaves crunching and branches snapping fill both sides of your ears. Adrenaline kicks in like never before and has you running the fastest you’ve ever moved in your entire life. If you can lose him in the woods you’ll make it to your neighbors’ in five minutes tops, might even get lucky if you detour to the main road but the hill to climb up will only slow you down.

“Don’t be like that babydoll!” He calls out from your left? Right? You don’t know where his voice is coming from, and quite frankly you’re too scared to look. You hear his heavy footsteps (now) directly behind you before a hand tangles itself in the back of your uniform top, gripping it tight as he stops you from going any further.

The force itself is enough to send you flying to the ground, knees scraping hard against a tree stump. You break your fall with your hands, crying out from the pain that erupts in both palms as tiny twigs and rocks dig into your soft skin. “Gotcha.” He chuckles and squats down to your level to admire your bruised form. You must have gave him a run for his money with how hard he’s breathing under the mask.

“P-Please!” You crawl backwards, back hitting the tree stump, “I don’t wanna die,” you pathetically cry, “I promise I won’t tell anyone if you let me go.” Call it cliche but it was worth a shot to plead with your killer? Stalker? You don’t know anymore.

He tilts his head, “Heard that one before, you’re not the first to beg so sweetly like that babydoll. Almost melts my poor little heart,” he coos mockingly, “but don’t stress your pretty little head over that, you’re not meant to use that brain of yours—meant to sit and look pretty for me.” He purrs and reaches out to run a gloved hand over your dirt stricken thighs.

You curl away and try to escape his touch, “Why are you doing this?” You whimper quietly, watching as his hand rubs circles over your bruised knees. A tremor runs down your spine as his leather gloves run over your shaking thighs, his touch feels scorching hot despite the cool material of his gloves pressing against your skin.

“Been watchin’ ya for a while,” he murmurs, “night n day—just imagining allll the different ways I could have you. Bet you’d look pretty with a mouth stuffed full of cock, wonder how pretty you’d look with cock deep inside your little cunt baby,” he trails off while giving your thigh a rough squeeze, “always did wonder how that pussy tastes.” You can practically picture the shit eating grin he must have under the mask.

You hate that his nasty words have a bubbling heat building in your lower stomach, it shouldn’t be that arousing to you yet here you were in the middle of the woods being fondled by your stalker while he talked about how much he wanted to fuck you. His voice even sounds hotter in person vs the phone.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He chuckles.

You land a harsh kick to his arm with a loud, “Get off of me!” You quickly turn over to stumble to your feet while he curses under his breath and stands to chase after you.

He’s not so gentle this time with the way he snatches you and slams you right up against the tree trunk, letting the chips and splinters bite into your skin unforgivingly. “Thought we were over this,” he growls, “was gonna treat you nice and sweet but by the looks of it you just wanna be tossed around like the filthy little slut you are,” he hisses in your ear while pressing you tight against the tree.

You whine loudly and push back against him in an effort to get him off of you, “Let me go—let go!” You growl angrily, “you’re a fucking psycho creep!” You grit your teeth while trying to turn to look directly at him.

He doesn’t shy away from hurting you to get you to become docile again. He pins both wrists behind your back in a tight grip, squeezing both of your hands until you hear a low threatening pop. A pained little whimper escapes your lip as he forces your head against the bark, “You gonna sit still like a good girl or do I have to tie you up?” He growls menacingly.

“I-I’ll be good!” You cry out as the pain starts to become unbearable.

“What was that?” He whispers in your ear, “Couldn’t hear ya.” He smirks.

A quiet sob slips from your lips as you slump over in defeat, “I-I’ll be a good girl.” You softly reply, too hung up on the pain to reply with the unbridled anger you feel right now. “Just please—let me go.” You sob.

He ignores your cries and instead brings out a rather intimidating looking hunting knife, it cuts into your skin almost right away with the slightest little touch. “Please no—” You immediately begin, thighs shifting as they slide against each other in an attempt to block him from either cutting or stabbing you. The only thing you achieve is the blade running into your thigh and slicing a small line downwards.

“None of that now babydoll,” he whispers while letting your wrists go and setting his big hand over your hip, “just sit still and look pretty for me yeah? Don’t need to think, just feel.” He breathes out as he guides the knife up your skirt, letting the sharp tip (which you noticed was slightly curved like a hook or something) hook under the side of your panties.

Your poor heart hammers in your chest as you begin to hyperventilate, “W-What are you gonna do to me?” The blade tugs at your panties, no doubt already piercing through the flimsy little material.

“Fuck.” You hear him whisper from behind, “You’re driving me fuckin’ crazy you know that?” His tongue clicks in annoyance as he suddenly yanks the knife down, a loud riiip following in suit, as well as your terrified scream/sob. “Gonna have a taste now babydoll, put your hands right there—yeahhh, good girl. Keep ‘em there baby,” he has you bending over with your legs spread wide apart and your hands over the tree, “ ‘s like a fuckin’ dream back here, fat little cunt n a nice ass.” He whistles while smacking his hand against your poor cheek.

You bite your lip as the cool air fans over your moist cunt, at this point in time you have long given up making any excuses as to why your pussy was drooling for this weirdo. Still didn’t mean you were less scared but you figured if you complied the faster things would go over. “Look at this slutty pussy, already leakin’ like a bitch in heat. Does a scary man like me chasing you through the woods get you goin’ sweetheart? Maybe you’re a little more fucked than I thought.” He chuckles.

There’s a brief pause and you wonder what he’s doing back there, so you turn your head to look at him when you gasp softly. He has the mask thrown off to the side, his face in all his glory—messy black hair and a lip ring with an array of piercings on his ears— he sits there with a shit eating grin, “Guess the cat’s out the bag huh?” You eye him with distaste before turning back around, you had at least hoped he was ugly or something.

“God,” he groans, “can’t get over this ass,” he mutters to himself while smacking both cheeks and pulling them apart to expose both of your holes to him, “wanna see it wrapped ‘round my cock, gonna have you squirting and messy babydoll. Might even have to get you on your knees to clean up your mess,” he whispers as his hot breath fans over your pussy lips, “you’re gonna be lookin’ at me with those sweet little eyes of yours too, gonna bust my load all over that pretty face of yours.” His tongue dips between your soft folds, licking from your winking hole down to your swollen little clit hiding under its hood.

Your eyes squeeze shut as his hands steady you by the hips, his face is practically smushed against your cunt as he slobbers over it with his greedy tongue. He sucks on your inner folds, getting every nook and cranny as he slurps up the mess he leaves behind before lapping over your clit with his tongue. Your thighs shake a little, you’ve never had anyone this eager to eat your cunt out like this. He’s a fucking menace and you hate how good he is at this.

“Fuck,” he pants softly, “can’t get enough baby, could eat this pussy for days.” He all but moans while latching on to your clit.

A shocked cry leaves your lips, you dig your nails into the tree bark and hold on tightly as your swollen bud throbs in his mouth. He doesn’t let up, suckling on your clit like a lollipop with just the right amount of pressure around the bud. A new wave of slick gushes from your untouched hole, loud mewls and whines leaving you as you subtly rut back against his face. It’s pure heaven.

He spreads your cheeks apart and pulls back to harshly spit on your cunt, “There you go, get nice n wet for me babydoll.” His hot breath fans over your empty little hole, “Good girl.”

You shouldn’t like the way he’s talking to you, but something about him calling you that has a delirious little whimper leaving you. He dips his tongue into your pussy, the sensation definitely welcomed as you sigh in bliss. His tongue wiggles around and curls upwards to brush over your sensitive walls in a flicking motion.

He jiggles your ass in both hands, moaning at the sight of the fat slipping through his fingers from his tight grip. He flicks his tongue back and forth over your swollen bud, you nearly double over as his tongue traces letters on your clit. “W-Wait,” you bite your lip as your eyes shut and you reach behind you to tangle your hand in his hair.

You freeze when you realize what you’re doing, but instead of getting angry with you he leans into your touch with a low moan. Clearly he loves it so you keep your hand in his hair, occasionally pulling just a tiny bit. When he pulls back to catch his breath, audibly gulping as he sits back on his haunches, “Turn around.” He says breathlessly.

From behind you can hear him shuffling around, the sounds of a belt being unbuckled fills your ears. “On your knees babydoll,” he rasps out while fisting his cock, sliding his thumb over the mess of precum he’s made at the tip of his cock. He’s watching you with dark lust filled eyes as you slowly fall to your knees in front of him, eye contact never wavering.

“Shit—when you look like that you make it harder for me to hold back.” He groans while licking his lip, “Exactly how I imagined you’d look.” He purrs as he brings the head of his cock to smother his precum over them, “Stick your tongue out for me baby—there you go, just like that.” He grins softly.

You lay your tongue flat under his fat cock, delighting in the delicious weight over your tongue. You can’t help but flick the tip of your tongue upwards causing it to brush over a throbbing vein. He releases a quiet hiss, fisting the shaft as he roughly slaps it against your tongue in repeated taps.

“Will you look at that, ‘nother little filthy slut we got here, how many other cocks you sucked huh?” He pushes into your mouth and holds the back of your head with one hand tightly fisted in your hair. You gag around his cock and fruitlessly claw at his thighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t take it? Poor baby can’t handle having a cock stuffed down her throat? Pathetic little thing you are, can’t even do what you were made for,” he rasps out while rolling his hips against your face.

His balls press snug against your chin as spit and drool dribble from the corners of your mouth. Your tears run freely no doubt ruining your makeup for the night, you probably look a hot mess right now. Your stalker moans and pants freely above you, he doesn’t bother hiding how good he feels right now as his cock twitches occasionally. You really lose it when he forces your head down and keeps you still, pelvis pressed right up against your nose as he rolls his hips in quick grinds.

“Oh shit,” he breathes out, “feels so fuckin’ good babydoll, knew you were the one when I first saw you.” He whispers out while slipping his cock out of your mouth, relishing in the gasping noises you make, “Gonna make you into my little cock sleeve, don’t need you doin’ anything else..belong with me right on my cock.” He shoves himself back into your mouth and begins fucking into your throat roughly. You cry and gurgle while weakly slapping your hands over his thighs. He doesn’t let up and only fucks your throat more eagerly.

“Fuck baby, c’mere,” he yanks you off his cock and brings you up to him.

He doesn’t waste time bending you back over the three and shoving his fat cock into you. You let out a loud cry and dig your nails into the tree from the pressure and slight twinge of pain from the size of his girthy cock. It sits nice and snug against your walls, curved slightly upwards to press into your g-spot, not quite hitting it but brushing over it.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper out as your toes curl from inside your shoes.

When a couple more seconds pass of him just idly rocking into you, he pulls all the way out until only the head remains before slamming back in with a loud slap. You jolt in pleasure as a tiny scream escapes, he doesn’t let up and keeps the same harsh pace he started with. His cock punches deep into your pussy, poking at your cervix painfully as you yelp out in pain between your moans.

“Fucking hell,” he moans out while moving his hands from your hips to your bouncing tits, “got a nice little pussy n a pair of pretty tits just for me right sweetheart?” He slaps one of your tits before taking your pebbled little nipple between his fingers and meanly pinching it.

“Mm!” You arch your back and try to twist away from his bruising grip. He manages to grip your other tit and knead it in his big hand.

Loud squelching noises fill the space around you in the woods, some of your slick even drips down onto the ground with tiny wet splats. The sound is filthy and has your face burning up in embarrassment as you hide in your hands with low whimpers and whiny moans. He suddenly changes the angle and begins grinding his fat cock right up against your g-spot, pressing insistently as he hits it over and over again.

“Oh you like it there don’t you sweetheart,” he grins while rolling his hips in slow circles, “go on then, fuck yourself on my cock like the little whore you are. Get that pussy nice and soaked for me.” He growls quietly in your ear while pinching your nipples once more.

A quiet squeal erupts from your throat, you shakily manage to knock your hips into his in a sloppy pace. “Please,” you slur out as your eyes slip shut, “c-can’t do it,” your pace is nowhere near the same as before.

“Can’t what?” He moves one hand down between your thighs, “Hm?”

You press your forehead against the tree bark in defeat, sobbing quietly as you wiggle your hips side to side, “ ‘s not the same, need you to f-fuck me.” You shamefully admit.

“Like this?” He slaps his hips upwards, “Or like this sweetheart?” He purrs and begins plowing into your drenched pussy, stuffing his cock deep inside with every thrust.

You throw your head back with a loud moan, “Yes, yes!” More drool begins slipping from your chin as you part your legs a bit wider and arch your back.

He swears at you from under his breath while rolling your swollen clit between his fingers. The sounds of skin slapping against skin begin louder, his balls collide with your swollen puffy folds and your ass ripples from his pelvis from his harsh thrusts. “Little fucking slut,” he grits out through his harsh punishing thrusts, “fuckin’ mine you hear that? So help me you ever think of looking at someone else I’ll fuckin gut them like a fish n fuck you over their dead body.” He hisses, “Better yet covered in their blood.” He roughly smacks your clit.

You mewl loudly and go still, your pussy pulses like crazy as you feel your orgasm hit you at full force. You cum with your clit trapped between his fingers and his cock stuffed deep. The orgasm is so strong it knocks you off your feet as you wobble and shake like a newborn lamb. “P-Please,” you sob out.

“On your knees,” he growls while slipping from your drenched cunt, “fuckin’ look at me.” He aims his cock at your face and strokes himself with loud slick noises. You stare up at him with a dazed expression, too fucked out to reply. He cums with a low moan, making sure to coat your lips and face with his cum as he taps the head against your cheek, “Fuck…” He sighs in bliss while lazily flicking his wrist.

You blink slowly and the last thing you see is him picking his knife back up.

+

Jungkook hums under his breath while he lazily digs through his bowl of popcorn, he’s been switching channels for a couple of minutes now. Nothing good is ever on these days, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head while flicking through the channels.

“Oh,” his face lights up in joy, “baby come look at this,” he grins and turns the volume up all the way high, “found somethin’ perfect for movie night.” He turns to look behind him, eyes wild and filled with sadistic joy.

“She was last seen Friday in the evening by her parents who were only going a few towns over to visit family. Her friends have all stated she was supposed to be meeting them that night but never showed, one even said they had spoken to her hours prior about their plans to meet. They said she wasn’t acting suspicious or anything—”

A muffled sob erupts, the sound of a cage rattling heard next as Jungkook slowly turns to look at your cowering form. You look so adorable all curled up in the cage like that, mascara streaking and lips wiped red from your lipstick. “Don’t like that movie?” He pouts, “Pity.” He turns back around and replays the entire missing persons ad.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @gukiebaby @babycandy111

[halloween m.list]

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

[papurgaatika]

Nothing Fucks With My Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader

A/N: This got so out of hand so fast, but it is FINALLY here. This is for all my Joel girlies with crazy daddy issues, I see you and I get you. I really didn’t mean for the first half of this fic to be so angst-filled, but I think the smut is a good trade-off for it in the end. AS ALWAYS humongous shoutout to my beloved beta readers @joelsdagger and @carlynkurin yall kill me with your comments and I love yall so much. And yes the title is a Hozier lyric, I love that guy. Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! Tags: daddy issues, minor misogyny, minor body shaming, angst, Joel wants to beat up reader’s dad, age gap, daddy kink, pillow humping, exhibitionism if you squint, oral (f receiving), Joel Miller’s filthy mouth, breeding kink, cumplay kinda, protective Joel, no outbreak AU, no use of Y/N Word Count: 5.3k

Visiting your parents with Joel for the first time brings up some bad memories. And lets you make a few good ones too.

(aka Joel hates your parents and fucks you in your childhood bedroom)

Your fingers stilled over your phone, minor panic setting into your bones when you got a text from your mother asking you to come over for dinner with her and your father. Now you loved your parents and you think they loved you too, in whatever weird way they showed it, but your relationship with them was never amazing. They were overbearing when you lived with them, always expecting the most of you but never recognizing what you actually did, like you were never going to be enough in their eyes. You were a grown woman, a degree in hand, and jobs lined up, but with rent at an all-time high and entry-level positions barely paying enough, you had sucked it up for as long as you could and continued to live with them. The passive-aggressive remarks about their friends’ kids moving out and about your degree essentially being a waste barely mattered anymore, you kept your head down and didn't engage unless you really had to. Your daydreams of moving out and being independent dwindled a little with every snide comment your father made, but you were living rent-free so you didn't say anything. 

But then you met Joel, and Joel couldn’t see a single flaw in you, his perfect angel. You weren’t even planning on dating anyone, especially not someone this much older than you, but there was just something about him that drew you in. You could still remember the day you met him like yesterday. You had been driving home after taking a much-needed weekend to go see one of your friends from college and managed to run over a nail and saw your tire pressure going down. You had pulled over and contemplated calling your father, but the idea of him driving out to lecture you on being a better driver and why he thinks women shouldn't drive just gave you a headache. So, being the self-determined woman you were, you got out of your car, popped on a YouTube video on how to change a tire, and knelt next to your car. 

Granted, the video wasn’t helping you out much, and your headache was getting worse under the blistering Austin sun, and you felt the tears start to brim in your eyes as you rested your head against the door of your car. You were seconds away from sucking it up and calling your father when you heard a gentle, “Do you need any help, ma’am?” You’re not one to usually take help from men, especially not random men on the side of the road, but your head was pounding and your eyes were red, and something about his voice just put you at ease. So you sigh and nod, explaining how you really did try to change it, but it just wasn't working and he shoots you the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen in your life. “I’ve got it for ya don’t worry, it’s just a tire ‘ain't worth those tears.” 

You stand to the side as he kneels down to take a look at the damage before standing back up and grabbing the tools from your trunk. His arms were working on unscrewing the bolts of your (now useless) tire, and you couldn’t help but stare at them. His sleeves were pulled taut over his biceps and beads of sweat were rolling down his tanned skin. You watched as the fabric of his shirt clung to his belly and his gray-streaked hair grew damp from the heat, finding yourself unconsciously biting your lip when your eyes linger on the veins that strained under his arms. He lets out a soft grunt when he gets off the ground and turns to look at you. ���I don't think it’ll be safe to drive on your spare sweetheart, let me call you a tow.” 

“Oh! No, it’s okay really,” your eyes go wide and your brows furrow as you try to figure out how much it would cost and who you would even call to come pick you up, but he’s already dialing a number into his phone and telling them they owe him a favor before hanging up and giving you another smile. “You really didn’t have to do that-” Your words falter because you realize you don’t know his name.

“Joel. And I couldn't let ya deal with it yourself, my mama raised me better than that.” You blush softly at his words, genuinely grateful to have met him. You let out a breath, your tears having subsided and your heart rate finally calming down before sitting back down on the ground, fully expecting Joel to walk back to his truck and head out, but are instead met with a frown when you look back over at him. “Can't just leave you here like this sweetheart,” he sighs looking down at you, “Let me take ya to the garage at least, just so I know you’re safe.” 

Quite honestly, you weren’t used to someone treating you with this much care and attentiveness, you weren’t sure what to do with it. But the worried look in his eyes and the warmth of his voice have you nodding, taking his hand and getting into his truck to go to the garage with him. You sit in surprisingly comfortable silence for the next few minutes until you decide to be bold and ask for his number “Well, just in case my tire pops again” Your words are matched with a small grin playing on your lips, and JoeL, well joel was a goner the moment you had said those words. 

You and Joel had moved relatively fast, only being together for about eight months before you were packing your stuff and moving in with him. He had heard all about your parents before then. He saw the tears that fell after a fight with them, heard the words they threw at you while you recounted to him, and he could never imagine treating someone, especially not someone as perfect as you, like that. He could recount how many times you would curl up into him, breathing in his scent to try and calm down while he ran a soothing hand over your back and told you it was going to be okay. So it was no surprise that he had a few choice words when you mentioned that your mother had asked you both to come over. “Dunno how civil I’ll manage to be, sweet girl” he groans into your shoulder, arm draped over your middle as y'all lay in bed. You giggle softly and tilt your head to the side so it’s leaning on top of his slightly. 

“Gonna have to be,” you catch his fingers in your own, running circles over the rough skin to soothe yourself. “I haven’t seen them since I moved out... I just want them to be okay with us I guess.” A sigh leaves your lips when you think about how displeased they used to be about anything that you ever did growing up, that displeasure skyrocketing when you started seeing Joel. 

You feel him still your fingers, taking your hand and wrapping it with his own, before shifting to look at you fully. “I can’t promise they’ll be okay, sweet girl, but just know I’m in it with you forever okay?” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss to your knuckles and you feel your eyes start to water as you nod. “Now, we don’t need to think ‘bout it for a while, lets get some sleep yeah?” You curl into his side and mumble out a soft okay before letting yourself drift off, feeling the weight of his arm draped around you. 

The rest of the week passed with relative ease, you were busy with work and Joel had been doting over you more than usual to keep your mind off of things. Eventually, Friday rolls around and you find yourself in Joel’s truck fidgeting with the rings on your fingers, heart pounding in your chest. You’re staring out the window lost in the endless stream of anxiety that is your brain, until you feel Joel's hand, warm and heavy, running small circles on your knee. You let your hand rest on top of his, basking in the intimacy of it all before he pulls up to your old house. You can feel your breathing start to quicken, chewing on the inside of your lip, before looking over at him. “Wait, baby, can we go back, I can’t do this. I’m not ready,” your words were tumbling over each other, panic clear on your face. 

“Hey, hey, look at me angel. It’s gonna be okay. We can do this okay?” His hands are on your cheeks making you look at him, and you subconsciously lean into his touch. “I don’t like them any more than you do, but I’ll try to be on my best behavior, and if we go in and you wanna leave at any time, we’re outta here okay?” He breathes out a small sigh of relief when you nod, a small giggle leaving your lips at his words. You take one last steadying breath before throwing open the door of the truck, smoothing out your outfit, and letting the flowers you had picked up for your mother rest in your arms. 

You knock at the door and feel your nerves setting in again, but Joel's hand is holding yours and you feel like he’s pulling you back down to the ground again, keeping you steady. You’re both met with a loud laugh and are pulled in for a hug when your mother opens the door. “Oh! Sweetheart, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! You certainly look like you’re eating well.” You did not miss those passive-aggressive comments at all, so you hand her the flowers with a tight-lipped smile, mumbling something about just having more time to make the food you enjoy, 

And being the attentive boyfriend that he is, Joel senses your discomfort immediately. He turns on his southern charm and throws one of those gorgeous smiles at your mother, complimenting her cooking and how good it smells in here. “If her cooking is any indicator, I’ll be asking for a to-go bag tonight.” Your mother just blushes and goes on about how her food isn’t that good but she hopes he likes it. You grin, watching the two of them interact helping your nerves dissipate slightly. Joel was always a charmer, that’s why you were drawn to him, he knew how to make you feel safe which was something you had seldom felt in this house. 

You’re sitting on one of the chairs, head leaning against his shoulder while he laughs at something your mother says. It finally feels like you can breathe like you don't have to put your guard up because Joel does it for you. And then suddenly it’s like the floor is being ripped out from under you as your father makes his way downstairs. It was like you were 16 again begging to get his approval for anything, waiting for the day someone would whisk you out of that house. You sit up straight and move your head from Joel’s shoulder and let your eyes dart to his, and he is visibly angry. Joel knows about your father, the fights and the screaming matches, the way you were so similar it made you sick, and he just could never understand how someone would ever treat their child that way.

Now your father isn’t necessarily short but Joel was looming over him, eyes burning daggers in his direction as you both stood up to greet him. Joel’s hand envelopes your fathers in a grip that looks like it could break a bone and you give your father a curt nod and however much of a smile you can muster up with a quiet “hi dad.” only to be met with a grunt like you weren’t even worth sparing a few words to say hello to before muttering and going to sit on the couch. “It's alright Joel… he’s just like that baby... let it go.” you manage to press a kiss to his cheek to let him know you’re alright, it wasn’t like you were expecting the world's warmest greeting anyway. 

Joel tries to let it go. He really tries for you. But it is so hard being nice to someone who hurt the person you love. So he brings up Sarah, not out of spite really, he just loves to talk about his girl. “Comes up to visit almost every month, jobs got her real busy though,” he says, taking a sip of beer, eyes focussed on your father across the table. “Couldn't go without seein’ her.” Joel’s face immediately brightens up when he talks about Sarah, the pride he feels for his girl sparkling behind his eyes. 

Your father is not a man who is good at hiding his emotions, anger, and resentment showing clearly on his face. “‘M sure it’s nice to have a daughter who amounts to somethin’,” you feel your blood go cold for a moment, tears stinging in your eyes as you duck your head down to look at your plate very carefully. Joel’s hand is immediately squeezing yours, bringing you back down to earth, back to him. You take a deep breath to respond, but before you even get the chance, Joel’s voice is hurdling at your father. 

“Sure is. You’d understand what it would feel like if ya made any effort to be in her life.” The silence in the room is eerie. You cannot remember a single time in your life when your father didn’t have something to say, something to hurl at you in a fit of anger, only to claim it never happened after the fact. You feel Joel squeeze your hand again as your father shoves a forkful of food into his mouth, not making eye contact with either of you. Your mother just looks between Joel and your father silently, apparently still unwilling to stand up for you. You press your eyes shut for a moment at the absurdity of it all; the absurdity of bringing Joel to meet your parents, of him trying to defend you, at the idea that you had truly believed that your parents would have changed. You knew better than to hope for things like that. 

The rest of the dinner passes in relative silence, save for a few questions your mother asks Joel about his work and a minor argument that ensues because Joel mentions his love for the UT Longhorns after your father brings up his love for the Aggies. You roll your eyes at Joel when he throws up the Hook ‘Em hands before you get up to wash the dishes, only stopping when Joel tugs at your wrist. You look down at where he’s sitting, eyebrows raised at you because you're well aware that washing the dishes is his job “Baby it’s okay, I'll just do them today”

Joel just shakes his head and pulls at your wrist again, essentially pulling you back into your chair. “Don’t think so angel, you know that’s my job,” you giggle with a small nod of your head before the both of you turn to look at your father who is scoffing from his seat. “‘S there a problem?” 

Your father rolls his eyes at Joel, clearly still upset about how dinner went. “Just think you should let the woman do the woman’s job, ain't yours to do.” Your father barks that out with such ease that Joel thinks he sees red for a second. He grew up helping his mamma around the house when he was younger and became even more fond of cooking and cleaning when Sarah was born, so it is safe to say that he doesn’t agree with the idea that housework is a “woman's job.”

You know how Joel feels about this but your father is getting irritated again and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to take another argument between them, so you’re trying to grab the plates from Joel again. But stubborn as he is, Joel does not let up, especially if it means letting your father think that he’s right. “I don’t think so, sweet girl. Ain’t the 1950’s anymore, if you’re too pussy to wash a dish wouldn’t consider you a real man.” Your mouth falls open slightly, and you try to bite back your smile when your father huffs and gets up from the table muttering something about not knowing a real man if it bit him in the ass. 

You finish helping your mother put leftovers in the fridge, save for a bag filled to the brim with leftovers for Joel, and catch a glimpse of Joel smirking happily to himself while the sink runs hot over his hands. You sneak behind him and press a kiss on his shoulder blade, letting your hands snake around his waist. “I’ll be honest baby, kinda hot watching you tell him off like that..” You hear him huff out a laugh before he shuts the water off and spins you around in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips before letting his mouth drop to your neck. You giggle as he nips at your skin lightly, but push him off gently after a moment. “They’re gonna see you, Mr. Miller, gonna get me in trouble.”

“Is that so?” his hands are on your waist, prints from the water on your shirt. He grins down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “let ‘em see baby, not their little girl anymore, all mine now.” He presses another kiss to your neck, finding the spot right above your pulse point and drawing a small mewl from between your lips, before standing up straight and letting go of your waist, a grin plastered to his face. 

“You’re an absolute menace, you know that?” You squint your eyes at him, poking a finger into his chest, eliciting a laugh to tumble from his mouth. You give him a small kiss again and find yourself smiling into it. “‘M ready to go home now baby,” you murmur against the plush of his lips, wanting to feel his hands on your body again. Joel simply nods and grabs your purse for you while you say an awkward goodbye to your parents. You take your purse from his hands and open the door only to be met with the sight of rain. You were used to how quickly Austin would flood when a storm hit, you had grown up with it, but you hadn’t checked the weather and this was certainly dampening your plans to go home. 

You turn around to face Joel, eyebrows furrowed and before either of you can say anything your mother is swooping in. “Well, now I cannot send you two out in this weather! I have your old room set up still, and Joel can take the guest room!” Your eyes lock with Joel's, taking in the look of shock on his face. You should have assumed that your parents would be weird about letting Joel stay in the same room as you, despite living with him, but you were still caught off guard. 

You say your goodnights and thank yous, your father’s grip on Joel’s hand dangerously tight, before showing Joel up to the guest room giggling about having to be apart for the night. “Dunno how I’ll be able to sleep without you angel,” he groans sitting down on the old guest bed. 

You roll your eyes and kiss the scar on his nose “Sure you’ll be okay for one night cowboy, I’ll see you in the morning, ‘kay?” He just scrunches up his nose in response and plants a few more kisses on your lips before letting you walk out to your room. You can hear him exaggerate a sigh as you close the door and walk back to your old bedroom. You grin to yourself before walking into your room, taking in the sight of what used to be yours. Your hands skim over your dresser, the drawers mostly empty from when you packed in haste to move in with Joel, dried petals from the last bouquet of flowers he had gotten you still sitting in a small jewelry box. Pink sheets, pink pillows, and at least five stuffed animals still sit in their perfect setting on your bed, and a pang of guilt for leaving them bubbles up inside of you. You sigh and pull out an old shirt from the drawer and slip into it, foregoing pants and just staying in your panties. 

You spread out on the bed making futile attempts to fall asleep. It wasn’t like you needed Joel to be next to you, but you missed his hand draped around your waist and the way his body was a literal furnace to the point where you had to take the blankets off. Your mind cannot stop thinking about him. The way his hand was on the small of your back when you came into the house, the way he stood up for you when your father was speaking, the taste of his lips when he pulled you in for one last kiss before you left his room. You let your fingers trail down your body, sneaking into your panties and letting out a shaky sigh when you feel the slick pooling between your legs, eyes falling shut for a moment before situating a pillow between your legs. You press your face softly into one of the stuffed animals Joel had given you, the smell of him just barely lingering in it, and start to grind your hips down on the pillow. Your breath hitches when you feel the pressure on your clit through your panties, moans muffled by the bunny as you grind your hips down chasing your pleasure. Your eyes are still shut imagining Joel, lost in your pleasure until you hear a low whistle behind you, making your head whip around, your heart pounding a mile a minute. 

And there he is. Joel is leaning against your door, when he got in is beyond you, his eyes are hungry and locked in on you, eyebrows raising when you stop to turn around. “Why’re you stopping, baby? Go on, put on a show for me.” Your mouth opens to answer, but he’s cutting you off with a small tsk and a shake of his head “Nuh-uh. Don't get shy on me now, sweet thing, keep going.” His voice leaves no room for discussion, and his hands are on your waist pulling you flush with the pillow again. You whine when his hands leave your body, and try to turn around to grab at him. He pins your hips back down to the pillow, a low noise leaving his throat. “Like you were before, wanna see what you used to do when you miss me” 

A whimper leaves your mouth and you lay your head back down on the bed, pussy grinding on the pillow again. You move your hips back and forth, breathing becoming heavier as you angle your hips a bit higher and you bite back a whine as you clench around nothing “Joel please-” you plead, looking up at him over your shoulder with wide eyes,  “want you to touch me,” A small shudder movies through your body as you whine at him again. 

He just shakes his head at you, eyes not leaving your clothed cunt, “Not yet baby.” He brings his hands back to your waist and traces small circles into the skin just above your panties. 

  “but-” You keep grinding but throw a pout at him trying to get his decision to sway. 

He swats at your ass, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to be a good warning “You arguing with me baby?” His eyebrows are raised, the look in his eyes not one that wants to deal with a brat tonight. 

You shake your head with a pitiful no sir and keep grinding on the pillow, your panties fully drenched by now. You feel your hips start to stutter as your climax catches up with you, a sheen of sweat covering your body. Your stomach is clenching and your breaths are ragged, “Joel- fuck gonna cum, oh god- fuck-” You babble at him, words muffled, legs trembling lightly, and eyes falling shut as you’re hit with your orgasm, face falling into the stuffed bunny again. 

You try to steady your breaths after coming down from your high, eyes still closed until you feel his hands sneak around your waist and under your shirt, grabbing your tits softly. “Fuck, you’re such a filthy girl, probably did this all the time when you thought about me? Desperate fucking thing.” You groan into his touch, and arch your back into him when he pulls you flush against his chest. He grabs at the hem of your shirt, before pulling it off and tossing it to one of the corners of the room, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples. You let out a squeak when he tugs at them before he lets go and presses his hand over your mouth. “Quiet. Gonna wake up your parents, or is that what you want, hmm?” His hand dips into your panties, rough fingers swirling over your clit “wanna get caught in the room you grew up in?” 

A whine leaves your mouth, muffled behind his hand, as you try to grind into his fingers. He brings his hand back to your nipple, flicking at the nub and making you jump. “Joel please- need it” You plead as he circles your clit. 

Joel pauses, drawing a pathetic whimper to leave your lips. “Came already and want another one? Greedy fucking thing” You nod at his words before yelping when he throws you down onto the bed and pulls you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles. He throws your legs over his shoulders and you buck your hips into the air, trying to catch his touch. He rests his head on the plush of your thigh, eyes on yours, waiting for you to ask for what you want. 

Your eyes are pleading with his, hoping that you can get out of having to beg by batting your lashes at him. “I’ll be so good for you, please.” your lip trembles a bit, hips still moving in the air, trying to get into his mouth. He relents and his lips press against your thighs, his stubble scratching at it gently, before pressing a kiss to your clit, making you jump softly. “Fuckk thank you.” Your head falls back as his tongue sweeps over your weeping cunt, his arm pinning your hips down to keep you from bucking into his face. 

His tongue dips into your slit, making your back arch off the bed as your hands fist in his hair. His lips wrap around your clit, and your hand clamps over your mouth to stop the obscene noises you were making from leaving it. His fingers tease your entrance before slipping into you and thrusting in and out at the same pace he was flicking his tongue. You feel your thighs start to tremble and clench around his head, your grip on his hair growing tighter as you feel your second orgasm hit you, red hot in the bottom of your spine, and up to the tingling in your fingers. Joel’s pace does not slow down as he coaxes you through it, hitting all the right spots. “Fuck look at her baby.” He says pulling his fingers out of you and spreading your slick over your pussy. “Fucking weeping for me. I’ll give her what she needs don't worry” 

His fingers press against your lips, and you let them into your mouth, tasting yourself off of him and groaning at the taste. He drags his spit-covered fingers down your chest, relishing in the fucked out look on your face. He takes off his jeans letting his cock spring free, dumb bastard going commando at your parents' house, and spits into his hand before fisting his cock in your line of sight. You whine at him, pouting your lips at him, cunt dripping down your thighs onto your bed. He chuckles at you and brings his hands to your waist, before slipping his cock into you, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. “Look at that sweet girl, taking me so well.” He moves so his cock is buried to the hilt in your cunt, the coarse hair that surrounds him pressing into your pelvis. 

You try to rock against him, to gain any friction. “Joel please move... please I want it” You plead with him, hands moving to wrap around his wrist. “Gonna be so good for you Daddy, please” And that does him in. He lets out a groan and thrusts into you with enough force to move your headboard. His cock is hitting you in just the right spot, filling you up almost too much. 

You feel yourself clench around him as his hand tightens around your waist, one of your legs wrapped around his back, pulling him in deeper. “Gonna fill you up so good angel,” he says as your pussy clenches around him like it was begging for his cum. “Make you all mine, show everyone who you belong to,” his thrusts are growing messier, and you can feel another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s almost too much. Your toes curl and you meet his thrusts as you let out a pathetic slew of pleasepleasepleaseplease before you feel him cumming inside you with a soft pant of your name. You feel him pull out of you slowly, his cock replaced with his fingers. “Said I was gonna make you mine, gotta make sure it takes.” His fingers collect the cum that leaks out of you in the most obscene way and pushes it back into you, as a shaky breath leaves your lips at the depravity of his words. 

“Fuck thank you, baby,” You manage to get out after what feels like an eternity of recovering from your orgasm. Joel shoots you a sleepy grin, before wrapping his clean hand around yours and laying his head down on your chest, looking up at you with love in his eyes. 

“I should be thanking you, sweet girl. Did so fucking good for me” You grin and look down at him with sleepy eyes and run a hand through his hair. 

“You know you gotta get back to the guest room right?” You ponder, realizing the situation that you were in. The idea of your mother waking up to find you naked and stuffed full of Joel’s cum was horrifying. 

Joel just grins back up at you, pressing a kiss to the underside of your breast before pushing himself up off your bed and peeking at the window. “Dunno baby.. Rain stopped a while ago, I'm ready to just get outta here.” He raises his eyebrows at you, sliding back into his jeans as you drop your arm over your face with a dopey smile playing across your lips. 

“So long as you carry me to the truck, I'm game, baby” You bite your lip and smile up at him as he tosses your dress at you before he scoops you up and tromps down the stairs quietly and puts you into the passenger seat before getting in and pulling out of the driveway. “Thank you for being there tonight baby.. I love you.”

Joel just smiles at you, half asleep in his passenger’s seat, and runs a hand over your knee before grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Love you too angel. Don’t plan on ever making you come up here again though” You just giggle and lace your fingers through his, extremely content to just spend the rest of your days with Joel, not worried about your parents.

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.  Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #papaya writes <3

[dark-fics-4-you]

hi queen 🤍 the way i squealed when i saw ur post PLS

ok but umm what if your tire went flat at night and dark!rafe happens to be driving by, kinda crossed after leaving a party super late but he stops and helps you…. but plans to make you pay him back one way or another right there on the side of the road even tho you thought it was just a nice stranger doing a favor…..aldfjidoendkd

dw im seeking out help rn.

it’s okay i need to seek out help for writing this the way i did. This fic alone is putting feminism back 50 years okay sorryyyyy enjoy

Equal Exchange

Warnings: noncon, smut, reader gets assaulted by a stranger, degradation, rough sex, implied drug use, misogyny, slut shaming

“Fuck!” You hissed, slapping your steering wheel in frustration before flicking your hazard lights on.

Of all the times and places for a tire to pop, of course 1AM on a back road was just your luck.

You opened your door, examining your parking job before checking out your tires. Sure enough, the right hand rear tire had a gash in it, and was now considerably less full than the others.

With a groan, you retreated to your trunk, opening it and locating your spare. However, only then did you remember lending your jack and wrench to a friend and you cursed angrily.

How could you change the tire now?

As if on cue, the back of your car lit up as another car approached. You spun around, only to be momentarily blinded by the truck’s headlights, but you could hear the large vehicle slowing to a stop.

You nervously shifted your weight from one leg to the other as you watched the door of the truck open and a tall, blond man exited and walked closer to you.

“Engine trouble?” He calmly asked, blue eyes looking down at you kindly. The scent of weed hit your nose, and although you silently judged the guy for driving while high, you weren’t one to turn down help when it found you.

“No, my tire popped. I have a spare, but I don’t have the tools to fix it,” you sheepishly explained, crossing your arms around your chest when the cool wind made you shiver.

“Lucky I was in the area then.” He said with a friendly grin. “I’ve got a jack and a whole tool kit in my truck. I’m Rafe, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Thank you so much for the help Rafe, I really appreciate it!”

You watched as the blond got his kit and jack out, and then observed as he masterfully changed your tire. You didn’t miss the way he glanced over the stickers you had on the window there, a couple band ones and then a few feminist stickers that he stared at for just a little bit longer than you were comfortable with.

However, he was helping you out, and by the time your spare tire was on, you had almost forgotten about the way he looked at your stickers.

“Wow, I can’t thank you enough Rafe, you really saved my skin. I’m glad you were driving around here tonight when you were,” you politely smiled up at him, genuinely grateful for him coming to your aid.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” His eyes lingered on yours but he made no movements to go back to his truck, instead taking a step towards you.

You backed up nervously, why was he coming closer to you rather than going back to his car? It was well past midnight and maybe your paranoia was getting the better of you, but you suddenly really wanted to leave.

“Well, it’s late so I better get home,” you started to turn away from him, but his hand flew out and clamped down on your wrist.

You whipped around to face him, crying out and wincing at the painful way his fingers were digging into your skin.

“What are you-?”

“You just said I saved your skin, didn’t you?” There was an icy edge in his voice, and Rafe pulled you closer to him, chin ticking as he looked down at you in disapproval. “I mean, if it weren’t for me you’d be stranded all alone out here for god knows how long.”

“I-I know, I said thank you, Rafe, now please just let me go!”

“What if I didn’t want to, hm? Are you going to make me?” He chuckled when your face dropped, enjoying watching the severity of the situation he had placed you in dawn on you.

“I mean, don’t you think you could repay me for sticking my neck out for a dumb bitch like you?” He held you in place with one hand, allowing the other to snake around your throat.

Your eyes widened and you thrashed against him when he clamped down around the tender skin, choking you hard.

With all of your power, you aimed your knee in between his legs, missing his crotch, but still catching him off guard enough to get him to release you.

You screamed as you pulled away from him, hoping that someone else might hear you and come to your rescue.

Stretching your fingers out to reach for the handle of the door, you had almost grabbed it when Rafe’s large arms encircled your waist, tearing you away from the door.

You were no match against his strength and he easily pushed you back before getting behind you and shoving you as he bent you over the hood of your car.

You yelped when your hips painfully dug into the metal in a way you were sure would leave bruises.

His large hands pawed at your clothes, and you hopelessly struggled in his arms. When he ripped your shorts and panties down in one movement, dread gripped your heart. You felt dizzy with fear.

Before you could even register the chill of the night air, Rafe roughly slammed your head against the hood of your car, holding it there and chuckling at your terror before hissing into your ear as he undid his shorts with one hand, “I’ve never understood girls like you. I mean, you have those dumbass girl power stickers all over your car but you can’t even change a tire by yourself. And I bet you learned that little move after mommy signed you up for a self defense course, huh? You can take all the classes in the world, but you never really stood a chance against me, sweetheart. I mean, you are so fucking stupid it’s actually adorable.”

His cruel words brought a burning pink tinge of shame to your cheeks, tears beginning to pool in your eyes.

When you felt the tip of his cock brush against your slit, you tried to move again to get away, but you were pinned down by his rough hold on your skull.

“Uh uh, Y/N,” your name sounded all wrong on his tongue, and the smug overfamiliarity from this stranger who was now assaulting you made your stomach turn in disgust. You froze when he pressed the head against your slit again, this time you were slick enough for him to slowly press the tip past your lips and into your warm cunt.

“You’re gonna stay still if you don’t want to get hurt,” his sick laugh barely reached your ears, as your focus was locked on the building pressure between your legs as Rafe pushed himself into you, painfully stretching you out inch by inch.

You whimpered as he sheathed himself inside you, trembling with adrenaline and fear underneath him. He was big, too big, and you clenched around him when he tilted his hips back before snapping them against your ass.

“Fuck, Y/N, I thought I wasn’t gonna get any tonight after that party turned out to be so lame but shit-” he groaned before slowly starting to push his cock in and out of your heat.

“I guess I got lucky after all,” his gruff voice sent shivers down your spine and your tears only made you feel worse. Each stroke of his length was agonizing.

You could barely adjust to the feel of his thick cock dragging along your walls, it felt like he was going to split you open. The pressure between your legs had you gasping and crying out in a confusing mixture of pain and pleasure.

“God you’re squeezing me so fucking tight,” he groaned. “I knew you’d be worth stopping for.”

Rafe was rutting into you faster now, enjoying the way you fearfully looked up at him through teary eyes as he took advantage of you.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were enjoying this, Y/N.” His taunting voice was punctuated by his sharp thrusts, each one rocking your body. “Why else would you be moaning like such a fucking slut?”

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron noncon #rafe cameron smut #equal exchange #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x reader

[fictionkinfessions]

Reply to @ 748650924689555456/real-talk-but-i-hope-i-dont-ever-cross-the-line

First of all, it was nearly impossible for me to read this essay. You’ve gotta start breaking up more of your ridiculously long paragraphs.

Anyway, this is such an elitist take, which why in the WORLD are we making kinning elitist in the first place? Congratulations on not having that problem or not kinning from every media you consume, do you want like… a medal for that? Some praise? I mean seriously, want do you get from shitting on people who DO kin from everything they consume? Gods forbid they watch, read, play something and see themself in it. I’m not saying it doesn’t become a problem at times, because it definitely can from what I’ve seen, but for serious, what do you think your borderline villain monologue is going to do in this situation beyond making people feel like shit? What’s the point of popping in here, writing all of this ON ANON, and acting like it’s so cool of you?

The people you’re ranting about probably already know it’s a problem and are trying to work on that, or, if they aren’t, have made some peace with it because gods forbid someone finds something that briefly helps them when the world is quite literally falling apart around us. Having a little escapism or a little something to focus on beyond the world being shit is good for people, believe it or not. Makes people happy to find themself in media they consume, little pieces of themself that make them feel better to learn about. Fuck, some people are uncomfortable with exploring parts of themselves without the barrier of kin for trauma reasons, isn’t it a good thing they find multiple parts of themself all over the place?

Anyway. It’s so cool that you kin in the specific way that you do, but the majority of people don’t. Fuck, tons of people don’t even kin spirituality. Regardless of that, who cares if they have an “identity crisis” or split? That doesn’t concern you and frankly, acting like it does and you’re going to make a documentary on the people who probably have life rough enough already is so shitty. This entire ask is so shitty lmfao!!!!

There are tons of problems in fandom spaces that are encouraged by people who kin, I won’t lie, but kinning a ton or pairing two white guys who have “no chemistry” or whatever else you said is REALLY not the issues to focus on. Let’s talk about white people who use names from closed cultures. Or how fandom spaces promote misogyny? How about we focus on something that has real, genuine meaning and doesn’t make people feel terrible for no reason beyond YOU don’t like something?

All your “exposure” is going to do is get people who use kinning as a method of escapism from already horrible lives targeted and harassed more and more by nonkin. I just don’t see the point in this ask beyond “I’m better than you and everyone will see how weird and hollow you guys are 🫶🏻🫶🏻” like idk anon??? Touch grass or something lmfao

Sorry if this is mean mpc, I’m trying not to be, but still get the point across.

x

#fictionkinfessions #fakeclaim #bullying cw #mod party cat #ask response

[setsugekka]

『atarashī 』 ; 02

❝ something brewing ❞ | mlist  ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [4,5k wc] ch cws: talks of pregnancy, trying for a baby, and some of the deeply inherent societal misogyny that can come along with that for women of a certain age.

"When do you think you're coming home?"

With a glass of red wine in hand and winding down from a long week of work, you lean into the cabinet of your kitchen—a forkful of fried rice shoveled into your mouth after the sentence leaves it and your phone set atop the counter—the often missing husband on speaker from the other end.

"Hard to say, might be a few more days to get some paperwork settled, I have a couple more meetings I need to attend and then who knows what might pop up in the meantime, between all of that. You know I miss you, right?"

In theory, yes, you do.

But you don't want to fight, don't want to turn this evening into another one that ends up like so many others, like your birthday days ago. So, you fight back the disappointed sigh, force a chipperness to your voice that probably sounds fake even to the man on the other line, if he knows you as well as he should by now.

"I know you do, I miss you too. I love you."

"I love you too. Enough about my work, how is the new bunch of art hipsters?"

You take a hefty swig of your drink.

"Same as always, I'd say. There's a few that seem really promising already, a couple of the actors are incredibly impressive, one reminds me of my grandmother, actually. I hope she sticks with it, especially."

Yeosang huffs out a laugh on the other end, as if amused by the thought of it.

"Any problem children this year?"

Another mouthful of food down and a shrug that you know your conversation partner can't even see, you answer.

"I don't think so. There's one guy who can't seem to get it together enough to close it out, bombed out of a bunch of other schools in what would appear to be spectacular fashion, but I don't think he's going to be a problem to anyone except for himself. It's really no skin off of mine nor the Akademiya's back if he can't focus enough to graduate."

"Maybe he just needs some inspiration," Yeosang says, though there's a pointed mischievousness to his tone that makes his intent in saying such a thing evident before even going as far as to explicitly say as much. "Maybe he'll like to take you as his muse."

"And I'm sure you would find that just so amusing, wouldn't you?" you jokingly reply back. "Painfully cliché, isn't it? Besides being a happily married woman, I have no interest in fraternizing with the students of the Akademiya, I would imagine it to be largely frowned upon."

"I would imagine so, though equally as much desired by some as a result of that. Don't you silly, artsy types enjoy those sorts of clichés more often than not anyway?"

Yeosang says it in a way that's meant to be comically enjoyed by the both of you; a cute banter between husband and wife, though it always comes off as anything but to you. A point of contention in your relationship for as long as you can remember, your husband's unwillingness to relent as far as his perceived pointlessness of the arts as a whole—the irony embedded within then—when he decided upon marrying a woman so devout to them.

Something that over the years fell to the wayside, however, and you can't quite parse through how much of it has been on account of yourself, or on account of his disapproval of it. Never any outright condemnation of your enjoyment, but equally as much unwilling to ever make himself available to you in such a way.

Silly, artist types, as he would always call them. Not to be taken seriously, not to be regarded as anything more than children now existing well into adulthood but unwilling to cast aside the immaturity that still resides deep within them.

And so, cast it aside you have. Buried deep down, not to be revisited. To be ignored completely and forever.

"Yes, well," you start, pouring yourself another glass of wine, this one fuller than the last. "We do, but not when it results in undesired, real world consequences. I have no inkling of desire for a student five years my junior and with little to nothing going for him."

"You know, speaking of," Yeosang says then, a change of subject sitting at the tip of his tongue. "I've been thinking that maybe it's about time we start trying for a baby."

Your blood runs cold at the mere mention of it, frozen in place and almost certain that you've heard wrong. Surely not.

He must pick up on the hesitation despite the very few seconds of silence that pass through the line. You hear him sigh—like he's disappointed in the fact that you're not jumping at the potential opportunity—which dumbfounds you, because why on earth would you?

"It's been seven years now, I just thought—" he pauses, probably rethinking the course of his thoughts before picking back up again and deciding against the topic entirely. "You know what, forget it. We'll talk about it another time."

"Sorry, I was just...surprised. You brought it up so suddenly."

"It shouldn't be sudden given how long we've been married. We were meant to be on the same page about this. You're thirty now, I'm not saying that you're running out of time but—"

But he is.

You close your eyes, try to pretend that this isn't happening right now with another long sip of wine. Why on earth would you be jumping at the chance to have a baby, knowing perfectly well that in doing so you would effectively be rendered to paid-for-single-motherhood with the frequency in which your husband is not around.

The thought of it makes your skin crawl. You can't say that, however. There's a lot of things that you simply cannot say to him.

"I know, we should talk about it when you're home though. Over a nice dinner and a bottle of wine, perhaps?"

"Are either of those things likely to have you getting off of your birth control?"

You've been here before: the dead end of any particular conversation topic with Yeosang. Where further discussion on the matter nearly impossible to reach any sort of positive result. Best to back down now, nothing good will come of the rest of your evening over the phone together.

"I'm going to head into the office early tomorrow to get a little bit of extra paperwork done, still a lot of small things that need to be done around the theater hall," you say. It's not entirely a lie—fully intending to do just that—but more than anything and most importantly, it's an excuse for you to end the phone call. "I should probably get to bed."

"Yeah, me too. I'll call you tomorrow when I have some time. Get some rest, I love you."

You say you love him back, but in times like this, you aren't quite sure what the words are meant to feel like anymore.

Nine in the morning echoes through the narrow, ornate halls of the theater building—an otherwise quiet emptiness that emanates around you on account of the students' typical disinterest in being there on the weekends. You understand the feeling well, though often unable to turn yourself off in quite the same way.

Balancing a small stack of papers and folders in your arms, you make your way towards your office. Phone calls to make, contractors to meet, signatures to sign—another full day of mundane tasks ahead of you with little to no reprieve in sight.

Dull. A lifeless existence you've resigned yourself to over the years; tending to a building that most lack care for, little to discuss with anyone most nights, and especially not your husband.

Amid quick strides across vermillion carpet, as you pass one of the closed doors to a smaller theater room—a small noise heard within, like a conversation being held between people. Words spoken and muffled by the large, wooden doors; you can't make them out even when you pause and press your ear closer towards it, but more than that comes to shock at someone else being on the premises aside from yourself.

You inch closer yet, slowly, and just before your head makes contact with the obstruction, it opens.

A cuss escapes you on account of the impact—it's sudden and hard enough that it has you stumbling back and dropping the handful of things that you've been carrying—papers scattering, you hissing, and the sound of a man hurriedly rushing to your aid in the aftermath of the flurry.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry—"

You rub your forehead with your palm, wince at the pain, crack your eyes open finally to see who it is that you have to wish only the worst things upon for having you end up like this.

He reaches out toward you, albeit awkwardly, unsure of what to do to help. While your vision focuses on him, he instead must decide on gathering your things—it's more helpful, surely.

"I didn't think anyone else was here, I was told no one else was here on the weekends."

"Yeah, well," you groan first, finally focusing on the sight of Hongjoong finishing his self-imposed task and then settling on his knees before you. "Typically there's no students here on the weekends. What are you doing here, anyway?"

Handing you the stacks of papers, Hongjoong smiles. As if knowing something that you do not.

"You were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

You glance up at him through your eyelashes, meet his eyes for a long moment and then bring yourself back up to your feet. He follows suit, watching you all the while.

"I would hardly call it eavesdropping when I'm the one tasked with making sure this place stays up and running. If I hear something suspicious, then I'm going to investigate it."

His smile widens.

"Was met with a sudden wave of inspiration for a garment, I don't have a dress form at home, and I was told that this space is available whenever to students. So, I came."

There's a few beats of silence that wash over the both of you—eyes glued to each other’s as if engaging in an unspoken game of chess. The first to relent unabashedly the loser, though you're not quite sure what winning might entail either.

You clear your throat, the weight of his gaze upon you feeling heavier and heavier with each passing second. Shuffle where you stand, dropping your eyes to the floor.

But you can feel that he is still watching you.

"Is that not true?" he asks, a hinting in his tone indicating that he knows the answer already.

"It is, you are welcomed to come and go as you please as a student of the Akademiya."

"Perfect," Hongjoong replies, airy, plain lips still painted with a slight smile. "Are you interested in costuming?"

The sudden tangent takes you by surprise, becoming painfully aware of the weight of the items still hanging in your arms as you give your brain a moment to play catch up with all of the bizarre things that seem to be unfolding around you. Frankly, if you didn't know any better—you might think the guy to be lightly flirting with you.

Hongjoong seems to notice as much, reaches out to take the stack once again and instead of holding onto it, sets the pile onto a stray chair that's hanging in the hallway just beside them.

"Lemmie show you something."

His hand reaches out behind himself—fingers brushing against your own in an effort to guide—you pull away just after, creating space between you even though you accept the invitation to follow him through the doorway and inside of the room. It's small, much smaller than the others that line the halls, and little more resides inside other than a dress form with fabrics draped over it, numerous swatches decorating a handful of chair-tops, and a large sketchbook sitting open in full display on the embarrassingly dirty floor.

Something that must have slipped past you in your attempt to tidy up the place for the school year ahead, you apologize to him for the inconvenience—tell him that you'll have it taken care of today—though he seems none bothered by the fact at hand.

Hongjoong's hair is cleaner today, more finely cared for and parted down the middle. Brushed, better put together than how he typically presents during the school week. Clean, fitted jeans and a nice blazer over his shirt. It's nothing fancy, but he looks nice.

"You didn't answer my question, by the way," he says suddenly, your attention snapping back to him and out of your thoughts about him. "About costuming."

"Oh, right," you acknowledge, though your attention is split between the conversation and any other tasks that may need taking care of. "A little bit. It's not something I've ever given a lot of attention to I suppose."

Hongjoong glances over his shoulder at that, seemingly amused by it. "Acting then?"

"Painting, actually."

"Ah," he sighs, bending down to the floor and picking up his sketchbook. He hands it to you. "Done anything in this place?"

Taking the large book of paper from him, you look up at him, then glance down towards it.

"A couple of things, though you'd never know it."

Hongjoong's attention to you falls away once again, hands reaching up to wind into the fabrics pinned onto the white dress form that stands in the middle of the room—back to work, as if you're not even there at all. In that time, you flip through a couple of pages of what he has given you; drawings and loose, messy sketches adorning the papers in numerous colors and outlines, but always beautifully connecting into something that shines against the bland background.

You blink a couple of times, in something of a bit of shock at what you're seeing. You glance up towards him once again—none of his attention given towards you or what you may think of his work—hands still busy winding, pinning and tying in front of him.

"These are good," you say, quietly, not wanting to interrupt his process. "Really good. How is it that—"

You catch yourself halfway through the thought, curse yourself for having even started to say it as you continue to look at him and the way his eyes sling to the side to meet yours.

"That I've not managed to graduate yet?"

"I'm sorry—"

Hongjoong laughs, takes a pause from his work and shakes his head. "It's okay, it's a fair enough question."

Waltzing across the path that separates the both of you and stepping over a small collection of fabric swatches, Hongjoong takes the sketchbook back from your hands, glances through a couple of the pages himself as if not having seen the things that rest inside for himself in quite some time. A trip down memory lane, as it would seem, and a small glimmer of what one might read as hope sparkling in his eyes as he looks at what he's done throughout the years.

"I wouldn't say that the issue is so much my talent; my raw, innate ability to create, to make something beautiful. Attention to detail, finding the divinity in something—or creating it—has never been the problem. Rather, there's probably a part of me that's absolutely terrified of the commitment of moving onto another chapter of my life."

You smile, let out a small laugh at it all. "That's a lot of words to say you're a commitmentphobe."

He shrugs. "Change is scary, unless it's temporary enough that the only thing that results from it is blowing up some major facet of my life."

"I'm sure your girlfriend loves that," you joke in response. Both of your eyes meet after, Hongjoong sets the sketchbook down onto the floor and slowly makes his way back to his work at the dress form as you continue to fumble over your words. "Or boyfriend, or whatever."

"Don't have one," Hongjoong says, sticking a pin between his teeth to hold onto. His eyes narrow then in a way that you've become bizarrely accustomed to in such a short amount of time spent with him—devilish, something lightheartedly coy and almost flirtatious in delivery. "What about you? Betrothed to anyone or just this place?"

"Married, actually," you reply, an uncomfortable tremble to your voice. Hongjoong's unrelenting stare remains steadfast on you all the while. Little time passing but feeling like far more. "Not to this place, to a man."

"That's good, I'd be worried for you if you weren't seeing anyone or anything but this building."

"Yeah, well, my husband spends most of the year traveling for business so—" you pause, close your eyes and re-center yourself. "Sorry, not really appropriate conversation to be having with students, is it?"

Hongjoong chuckles under his breath, still tending to his craft and seemingly wholly unbothered by the topic brought before him.

"Well, you're not my professor, you don't even work for the Akademiya, and thus I'm not your student," he pauses again, pulls a pin from between his teeth and sticks it into a fold of blue chiffon. "Besides, I'm twenty-five, you don't exactly have to shield my young, innocent eyes from the horrors of adult relationships. My parents are divorced, I've been through a fair share of my own in the meantime."

Silence takes the room then, and while you grant yourself some time to watch the man earnestly tend to his artistic craft, it's not long until you remember the fact that you have tasks that require your attention today as well.

"I've got to get going, I have work to do."

The man doesn't reply, another fold of blue chiffon pinned to the dress form as you bid him farewell.

Later that evening, the wind blows cold through the moistened streets of the city as you make your way through winding passages of parked vehicles and unpleasantly placed construction signs. The misplaced leaves blow violently around you, lodged in your hair and stuck to your coat before you're able to finally make your way to the destination that awaits you.

Seonghwa stands just out front of the dimly lit bar like a beacon of comfort, a soft smile greeting you once you bring yourself up the steps and inside of the building with the door held open by him.

Inside, the warmth of a fireplace and a small amount of other patrons welcomes you in much of the same way that your friend just had. Your first time here, though you're already pleased by the sights of a candlelit ambiance and intricate, decorative little knickknacks all lining the walls for as far as the eye can see. To some perhaps it is crowded, overbearing—but for you, it feels right at home.

"Weather is horrid," Seonghwa says as he slips ahead, motions for you to follow him towards one of the tables at the back of the room. "Hadn't planned for that when I asked you if you'd like to come out."

The two of you sit and a member of the staff is quick to come and take your orders, disappearing just as swiftly as they had come.

"It's okay, I needed the distraction anyway, I've been bogged down with work back at Aurelia. I'm still not quite sure how so many things break down in the small time between semesters."

"It's an old building," Seonghwa begins, cut off by the waitstaff returning with your drinks then carrying on with the thought again. "Things are going to break, unfortunately. Speaking of, how are the new underlings?"

You laugh at the nickname given to the students, as if they are your own and thus under your thumb. Coffee mug in hand, you take a sip and look carefully to Seonghwa across the table—studying his face as if in search of something. He notices it, features twisting into confusion and reels back slightly.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"We've been friends for a long time, right? I can...talk to you about things."

He glances around the both of you, still searching for something and nothing all at once. The answers to the question and what's going on at this table, presumably, he won't find them though. "Yes? Why?"

You set your mug down, lean forward across the table a little bit more to close the wide distance between both of you.

"There's one student, a costuming major—"

"A man?"

"Yes."

Seonghwa flinches visibly at the reply.

"I think he's taken some sort of...particular interest in me, for some reason." You take another sip from your mug and watch on, awaiting a response from the man across the way.

He takes a few seconds of silence, thinking over what you've said most likely. His eyes drop to look down into the liquid of his glass, and then flicker up to meet your expectant ones.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Sighing, you lean back into your chair lazily. "I don't know, I think it's intriguing. I don't know why he would, but he is fascinating."

A single eyebrow quirks up on Seonghwa's face. "Does he know that you're married?"

Part of you wonders if he's asking you, or reminding you of the fact.

"Yes, I told him as much."

"Did he seem to...care much for that?"

"In what way is he meant to care for it?"

To that, Seonghwa sighs heavily—pulls himself forward across the table much like you had only moments before and laces his fingers together like a man intent of delivering an important presentation of some sort. Or perhaps lecture is a better, more apt word.

"In much of the same way that you are. I know that with Yeosang gone much of the time it gets lonely and the prospect of new and exciting attention is likely nothing short of intoxicating, but the stakes are rather low for whoever this student is—" Seonghwa pauses, allowing the emphasis on that particular word to sink in even further before carrying on. "It's probably not a good idea to pay it much mind."

"Are you done?" you ask. Pointed, annoyed but not wanting to let it show in a way that may sour the mood of the evening any more than Seonghwa has already allowed for. "I said that I found it intriguing, not that I was considering slipping between the sheets with him, my God."

It feels as though the entire room quiets once the two of you finish with those words shared. Seonghwa leans back in his chair again, takes his glass into his hands and brings it up to his lips before muttering his apologies through it and towards you.

"I'm sorry, it's just that as your friend I know how difficult the past few years have been for you—with your job, with your marriage—it's easy to let things slip through the cracks once they're there at all. I wasn't saying it as a judgement upon you."

You blink slowly, frown at him and reach a hand across the table in request for his own. He's fast to take it, curling your lips pleasantly the other way.

"I know. Truthfully, I look at the guy more as a little excitement in my life; like visiting the pet store and watching the bunnies hop around knowing full well that you have no intention of taking one home."

Seonghwa laughs at the comparison. "Does he know that he's a bunny in your life?"

"I don't think he thinks he's anything in my life, and he would be right about that."

Nodding in acceptance of the answer, the waitstaff come with a small loaf of cut, buttered garlic bread in a wicker basket for snacking. You're quick to take one into hand, Seonghwa a bit slower, still with more on his mind to question you with.

"How is Yeosang, anyway? Still gone I presume?"

You nod much in the same way. "He doesn't know when he's going to be able to come home, nothing unusual there, I suppose. Actually, he recently brought up something..."

Words trailing off into nothingness at the end, it piques Seonghwa's curiosity just that much more than it normally might. He takes a bite into the bread, mumbles through a full mouth.  "Brought up what?"

"That he wants to start trying for a baby soon."

Seonghwa reels—lip turning upwards into an ugly sight as if the very thought of it disgusts him.

"A baby? He's never even here, what's he want to have a baby for?"

Your demeanor gives off a silent understanding of I know, right? but you offer him a verbal reply along with it.

"That's sort of how I feel about it."

"That's the most insane thing I've ever heard," he says, taking another bite of the snack food in hand. "Guy spends maybe a quarter of the year at most in the city and he wants to get you pregnant. For what?"

The question isn't intended for you, not exactly. It's intended for a man who is not there to answer it—expelled into the ether with no hopes of a response—not that you nor Seonghwa think you will be sated by any possible reply that you could come by.

"Well, you didn't ask, but don't do that. I'm not really up for playing husband like I know I'd get stuck doing in the event of you getting pregnant."

You roll your eyes. "But playing husband comes with so many perks."

"College was a long time ago," Seonghwa replies, knowingly perfectly well the implications of your past together with him that you are alluding to. "I had my fill of you then, you're of far more use to me not on your back."

Feigning an offended gasp, you halfheartedly toss a napkin across the table at him—the both of you laughing.

"Seriously though, Yeosang needs to spend more time home and fucking you. If you're coming onto me again, and being woo'd by a young twenty-something student from the Akademiya then there's a lot of problems going on within the marital residence."

"I wouldn't sleep with you again if I was injected with poison through my cunt and the only antidote was kept in your dick," you insist plainly enough, and now he is the one drowning in pretend-hurt from across the way.

Leaning over the table again, Seonghwa smirks at you—looking positively evil over the flickering of candlelight that resides beneath him and in the middle of the table.

"Ah, but if it's in an Akademiya student’s dick, well then—"

Fingers dipped in your water glass and quickly flicked into the face of your best friend, he flinches with shock at what you've done to him—how could you—he hatefully whispers through a laugh that you both carry between yourselves.

Unlikely that you're to live this one down, that much is for certain.

a/n: ah geez the trouble is brewing! enjoy the calm before the storm yall because it’s gonna get crazy and fast. if you have stuff to discuss, my ask box is the best way and i’m always happy to talk about the stories and characters! other than that, hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading, and see you next time!

#hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong fanfic #yeosang smut #yeosang x reader #yeosang x y/n #yeosang x you #yeosang imagines #yeosang scenarios #yeosang fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic

[coconutcordiale]

In honor of How To Lose a Guy In Ten Days and Matthew McConaughey: “Great Answer.” “Good Question.” With Hangman

make my motor run

pairing- finnegan (everybody wants some!!) x afab reader

synopsis- everyone thinks finn is so sweet. you're not convinced.

warnings- 18+ minors and glen powell - you are not welcome here. protected piv, oral (f receiving), slight dumbification/degradation, praise kink. reader has ethically not great motives around sleeping with finn but do we honestly think finn cares? no

length- 2.1k

an- not hangman, but it's still glen so...close enough? this is the crossover literally not one person asked for - how to lose a guy in 10 days (if you squint a little) & everybody wants some

idk y'all, i don't have it in me to be ashamed anymore. this is just smut with some bants. idk if anyone even wants to read this but the glen powell brain rot is real so it had to be done so it'd stop rattling around in my mind. blame glen and his stupidly handsome face and the fact that he steals every scene he's in

title from my sharona - the knack

tagging some finn peeps - @sebsxphia / @iguana-braces / @justalonelyslytherin

It’s Saturday night. Against your better judgment, you’re at the rickety baseball houses, silently debating if you’ll have time to get a tetanus shot before your study group tomorrow morning.

Finn twirls his pipe between his fingers, leaning against the porch railing in a ridiculous paisley button-up. “Aside from how to take my breath away, what do you study here, ladies?”

“Does that ever actually work on real, human women?” You ask, ignoring the elbow to your ribs that Sophia digs into your side, presumably to get you to shut up.

The blond tilts his head, processing. He eventually grins. “Take no prisoners kinda gal, aren’t ya? I like that.” 

You hold back a grunt when Sophia elbows you again, answering the question before you can snark him any further. “We’re both journalism majors.” 

Going to take a sip of your drink, something you’ll surely need to swallow whatever faux-enlightened comment he has about that little piece of information; you furrow your brows when you realize it’s empty.

“I’ll grab you another drink, try not to miss me too much.” Finn winks, the bastard. What a ham. 

Your eye roll is barely contained when Sophia gives you a knowing look. 

“Oh, come on, he’s sweet,” she insists. 

“You’ve seen him with other girls, right? Everything out of his mouth is a line, Soph. It’s all bullshit. He’s pandering to us, so he seems better, different than his asshole teammates. It’s insulting.”

“Then why haven’t you told him to fuck off?”

“I think he’d be a good subject for my article.”

Her eyes widen. “About benevolent misogyny?”

“That’s the one.”

“How far are you gonna take this? Sleep with him to prove a point about how far a chauvinistic male will go for sex?”

You shrug. You hadn’t really thought it through, honestly. It’s not like it’d be a chore, he is pretty hot when he keeps his mouth shut.

She takes your silence as confirmation. “That’s kind of fucked up.” 

“Can’t be worse than changing your entire personality every other night just to get laid.” 

+ 

You find yourself sitting on the roof with Finn, having already shown up his mediocre golf swing. You’d never admit it to Soph, but your article is the furthest thing from your mind right now.

“True or false: all fundamental beliefs are reasonable.” You’re so taken aback by his pop quiz you almost don’t notice him sitting down behind you, pulling you into the space between his legs.

Smooth. You roll your eyes, but don’t move away. “False.” 

You can hear the smile in his voice. “I see someone’s already taken Philosophy 101 with Roberts.” 

“Yes, but that’s irrelevant. That’s an insane statement regardless.” 

When you turn to catch a glimpse of him you see him opening his mouth, ostensibly to argue, but you shake your head. “My turn. True or false: all’s fair in love and war.” 

“True.”

You can’t help the smirk that tugs at your lips. “Great answer.” 

Finn positively beams. “Good question!” His hands drift up from your hips, working their way under your flimsy tank before he brings his lips to your ear, murmuring, “True or false: you’re gonna let me take you inside so I can take you apart.” 

Your breath hitches. “True.” 

He turns your head to him, mouth pressing against yours, mustache tickling you, soft and sweet for just a moment, before he slides his tongue into your mouth filthily. “Let’s go then, honey.”

Your tiny denim shorts and little tank get lost on the floor of his bedroom almost immediately, skin ablaze as he pushes you back onto his bed, on soft forest green sheets that smell like him – warm and spicy and earthy. He stays standing as he makes quick work of his own clothes, raking his eyes across your naked form.

You try not to shy away from his gaze, meeting his eyes defiantly as you feel slick pooling between your thighs. You’re barely keeping yourself from rubbing them together, words laced with an edge you don’t feel. “Thought you were working on a degree in cunnilingus. Put that mouth to good use, Finn.”

There’s a sparkle in those green eyes that you catch just before he braces himself above you, arms bracketing your head. His words are muffled against your skin as he kisses his way down your body. “Overheard that, did you? Knew you were paying special attention to me.”

You roll your eyes, mouth open to respond, but he drags his lips across your collarbone before his mouth closes around a nipple, effectively driving any wit from you.

He pushes your legs open wide, settling himself between them. His chest presses into the mattress as his arms wrap around your thighs where he’s busy putting them over his shoulders. When his mustache brushes against your thigh's sensitive skin, it sends shivers racketing through you and you feel his smirk only centimeters away from where you want it. 

He licks his lips as your resolve crumbles with every passing second.

“C’mon, Finn, please,” you whine, threading your hands through his shaggy hair, trying in vain to pull him closer to your cunt.

“Impatient,” he tsks. You lean up to fix him with a glare, but it only makes him chuckle. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll take care of you.”

He finally, finally licks a stripe up your slit, and despite it being exactly what you asked for, you tug on hard on the blond hair between your fingers in surprise. He groans long and low, vibrations rolling through your body from your center where his lips are busy fixing themselves to your clit. 

His buries his face in you, moaning against your cunt as his tongue laps at you like a starved man. “Could spend hours drowning in this pussy, tastes so fucking good.”

The sound that leaves you in answer to that is pathetic – high and whiny – hips bucking. His big hands are gripping you so tight you’re sure there’ll be bruises high on your legs tomorrow. He stiffens his tongue to fuck it in and out of you, nose bumping your clit and making you shake, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Any sense of shame, any idea that you should keep yourself quiet in this house full of strangers has left you – your existence narrowed down to your hands in his hair, his lips on your cunt, the moans tearing their way from your throat, unbidden.

Your legs dig into his back, urging him in, hurtling towards the point of no return so fast all you can think of is needing more. He moves his lips back to your clit, hand loosening his death grip enough to slide a finger into the wet mess you’ve become at the same time he curls his lips and sucks.

“Don’t stop, please, Finn I -” You’re begging now, grinding against his face as much as you can in the vice-like grip he still has on you. He doubles his efforts, tongue working over your clit harder, finger inside you curling as you burn with the intensity of it, electricity bursting beneath your skin as the tension finally bursts, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Your legs feel like jelly. You let go of his blond locks belatedly, resigning yourself to your new existence as a puddle, a melted version of your former self. 

He looks up from between your legs and grins. 

You grab for his arms where they’re still flexed around your thighs, bringing him up face to face with you. He smiles, dropping sweet kisses to your parted lips and warm cheeks. Whining, you wrap your legs around his waist, wordlessly trying to pull him to you, get him inside of you, greedy for him.

“Don’t tell me a smart girl like you doesn’t know how to use her words,” Finn goads, laughter curling in his words, and you’re torn between wanting to smack him and beg like your life depends on it. You’re so distracted you barely notice him shifting his weight to his knees so he can reach for a condom, tear it open with his teeth, and roll it on.

You try to glare but he braces himself over you again, rubbing his cock between your folds, catching your oversensitive clit and a truly embarrassing whimper comes out, eyes blurring with a mix of pain and pleasure instead. “Finnegan.” 

“Yeah, baby?”

Taking a deep breath, you try to get your last functioning brain cell to cooperate. “Get inside me right now or so help me –”

You can still feel the amusement on his lips as he ducks his head down to slot your mouths together to cut you off, swallowing your moan as he pushes into you, slow and steady. 

When you flex your legs around his waist impatiently, he chuckles before setting a relentless pace, grinding his cock into you hard with each push. It’s too much, it’s not enough, it sets your skin on fire, it rackets the headboard against the wall – if his teammates didn’t know what was happening before, they certainly have a good idea now.

Your head lolls to the side as he hits that spot inside you on every thrust, nerves overloaded as you grip the nape of his neck, just trying to hold on.

“Fuck,” he groans, looking down at the glazed expression taking over your features. “Not gonna last long.” 

The thought that he’s already so close from having his mouth on you has your eyes crossing, cunt clenching around his thick length. His face crumples, mouth parting like you’ve just knocked the wind out of him. “Trying to kill me, honey?”

He lifts one of your legs to his shoulders, leaning down towards you and bending you in half – pushing limits to flexibility you didn’t even know you had.

“Wanna feel you come on my cock, you can do that for me, can’t you?” Finn asks, panting against your cheek, deft fingers moving down to circle your clit.

The sparks shooting through you as he presses into your center border on pain but you’re nodding, head bobbing up and down of its own accord, nails scratching red along his shoulders as you get closer and closer.

“Good girl,” he grunts and you keen, his words hurtling you towards the edge again. “So good for me…look at you, smart ass, brilliant girl fucked dumb on my cock.”

He’s pulling almost all the way out of you on every thrust now, slamming back in, and your back arches against him, a string of unintelligible noises leaving you that you’re just barely aware of, mewling filling the air in the room as your release snaps through you, ears ringing.

When you come to, still shaking and clenching around him, he’s running his mouth still, a litany of praise and groans of fuck honey, perfect for me, spilling from his bitten, red lips. His hips tear forward without rhythm as he pumps into you one last time, filling the condom before dropping your leg and collapsing next to you, strings holding him up suddenly cut.

Finn rolls to the side, and you stare at the cracks in the ceiling, wondering if you’ll ever be able to move again. You think he’s talking, but you can’t even begin to register what he’s saying. 

“Did I fuck all the brains out of the mouthy girl I brought up here?” Finn asks, amused when you don’t respond.

“Just surprised you wanted audience participation for your post-sex speech,” you snark, trying not to belay how difficult it is to form words currently.

“Well, I think Joanna Russ would disparage of me if I were indifferent to your thoughts and opinions immediately after getting off.”

 You raise an eyebrow. “You know who Joanna Russ is?”

 “The Female Man is a cornerstone of feminist literature. I read it be—”

 You can’t help but interrupt, brain quickly coming back online. “Because you thought it was going to be about the ideal woman through a man’s eyes.”

 He even has the gall to look offended. “Of course not, everyone knows Russ is a feminist writer.”

“Then you read it so more women would sleep with you after hearing that you’d read it.” He presses his lips together to hold back a smile and you snort. “I knew it.”

“Honey, don’t get mad at me just because it works.”

“Incorrigible.” 

You lay your head on his chest, trying not to purr like a kitten as his hands tangle in your hair.

“I enjoy Jack Kerouac too if you really want to round out your article. Paint a full picture.”

Your eyes widen, trying desperately to keep in the surprised squeak when you look up to meet jade eyes and see them filled with mischief.

“Just a thought,” he murmurs, hands resuming their movements on your scalp, lulling you toward sleep.

full disclosure i haven't actually read the female man but i'm pretty sure it was published in the 70s which seemed fitting for ews being set in the 80s. thanks for reading!

#walt finnegan #finnegan x reader #walt finn finnegan #walt finnegan x reader #glen powell #everybody wants some #glen powell character x reader #glen powell x you #glen powell x reader #finnegan fanfic #everybody wants some x reader #finn my love #finn x reader #walt finnegan fanfic #how to lose a guy in 10 days #glen powell fanfiction #glen powell fanfic #glen powell smut #walt finnegan smut #finnegan smut

[strawberrybyers]

honestly the amount of misogyny and drama that occurs within fandoms of female artists is so tiring. you so badly want these women to hate each other and it’s like WHY?? 😭 all the girls were supporting each other tonight. they were all excited for each other. like for example, taylor was singing and dancing to everyone’s songs and cheering them on when they won which literally proves for the millionth time that the media, toxic fans, and pop music update accounts are shit stirrers lol. also all the artists cheering her on too and being all smiley with her in videos and pictures… people be sending death threats or constantly hating on other artists thinking they have beef with each other when in reality everything is chill 😭 and don’t say “oh it’s pr” or “they’re being fake” because not everything is a show for your entertainment. remember these are real people we’re talking about. do you really think every single move they make everyday is a part of some mastermind plan specifically made for YOU to over analyze like you’re getting a degree at celebrity gossip university??? like pls get over yourself. these women do not hate each other the way you think they do and the reason they don’t address dumbass rumors or stay vague when asked about it is because you guys will still make up your own narratives regardless. they realize it’s best to save their energy instead of wasting their breath to people who have decided they don’t care about the truth because the fictional drama they’ve created is more fun for them

#i needed to say this #fandoms always start fighting after award shows and it’s like the artists don’t have any animosity towards each other what are you doing 😭 #taylor swift #olivia rodrigo #sza #miley cyrus #lana del rey #billie eilish #victoria monét #dua lipa #ice spice #doja cat #grammys #grammys 2024

[doomalade]

Hi, I’m back from watching the first episode of Hazbin Hotel, here are my thoughts on it.

But first, here is the swear counter:

Fuck - 22

Shit - 12

Bitch - 5

Damn -

Ass - 2

Cock/Dick - 5

Porn/Sex - 6

Tits/Boobs - 2

Pussy/Vagina/ Cunt - 2

Spoilers under the break.

The Good/ Things I Enjoyed:

Vaggie, Alastor, Charlie, Husk, and Nifty all have pretty good voice acting.

The two that stand out to me as my favorites are Husk and Nifty. Husk sounds well husky. It sounds like he smokes or used to smoke and there’s this gritty gruff to it. It really fits his character well. Like if you had to ask me what the voice of a bar tender gambling winged cat demon was? That is it.

Nifty’s voice acting also hits that sweet spot with her character where it sounds small like a balloon or squeaky toy but also small like a needle or a switch blade if that makes sense.

Overall I love Nifty so much. The gag of her freezing up when Vaggie tries to film her was great. Having it happen twice hit that joke sweet spot of letting it set in and be executed without over staying. It also fits her character well since she’s a little bit weird (such a blorbo) and I would like to headcanon that since she was summoned by Alastor, she kinda shares his distaste for video.

Also I am deeply hoping to hear more Spanish be spoken by Vaggie. Both the upset Spanish ranting and her sweetly singing to Charlie in Spanish. Imagine Charlie singing back also in Spanish. Would be neat I think.

The other two things was the Helluva reference on the side of a van and a Travis cameo. That was neat, adding some consistency to the world.

The Bad / Things I Didn’t Like:

Idk if it was just me but at least at the start, the animation looked choppy when Vaggie and Charlie were speaking at first. But for the rest of the episode it was pretty alright. Certainly doesn’t feel like a professional production level but that is what you get when you pay people slave wages Viv. I do hope that the animators can take some pride in their work, especially the more fluent movements during the songs.

Speaking of songs, Happy Day In Hell is alright. Nothing stand out but it’s good.

Adam’s song meanwhile. Ugh. Not fully committing to the rock/punk, still being another generic pop song, and overall adds onto my issues with Adam as a character and the whole “THE ANGELS ASCTHUCALLY BAD YOU GUYS” thing is, ugh.

It boils down to:

1) If Heaven is also as bad as Hell, why even bother with redemption?

2) Is it just the Exterminators who are corrupt? Also several demons were killed while Charlie sang so like what makes the Exterminations so bad if a second death is constantly happening casually?

3) Why do any of the Exterminators follow Adam? Also Adam has been written as a hand holder for the audience so you know who to hate (he got Stella’d).

4) I see how Viv is trying to tackle the issues of the patriarchy and misogyny in this but like, does she think that redeems her from how she’s handled Helluva Boss? (Once more, Stella.)

On the topic of male characters, who is Alastor anymore? He used to be smug and commanding and set up as a manipulative deal maker that doesn’t really care for the well being of others and now he just kinda walks around mocking Vaggie and Charlie? Idk just feels like Alastor is being added on top of the list of characters (which is like everyone but Vaggie) that don’t believe in Charlie to manage redemption.

Do wish for more spooky moments with him though.

Now onto Angel.

Why does his voice sound like a deflated worm out balloon? It caught me so off guard and it’s just nails on a chalkboard for me.

And the sex jokes, two of which stuck out to me as “can you not?”

“This body was made to be exploited” by Angel. I don’t think I have to explain why having your SA character say that line out loud and frame it as a humorous comment is a good look. Classic Viv moment.

“I like being forced” by Nifty. Yes, what a great line to have given to the small, child appearing character. It felt so forced and pushed outside of Nifty’s usual weirdness too.

Also dare I forget how Amazon had this marked as 15+ (I believe) before changing it to 18+. Which good catch there guys cause during Charlie’s song, we get a quick scene of two demons fucking.

Not saying that scene was quite as offensive as it was just boring middle schooler level humor like Alastor’s ad having a toilet joke in it and Blitzø like drawings/notes at the end.

What did manage to give me the ick was how Nifty and Angel kept hitting on Husk. Nifty not as much, but Angel was just down right creepy. Husk himself states that he is at the hotel against his will (whole new can of worms there) and now Angel is hitting on him and making constant unwanted advances?

But with that we’re meant to clap and ship away but then we jump cut to Adam calling Charlie “babe” over and over and we’re meant to boo? Which direction are we going with this Viv?

One last thing, I knew that Brandon as Katie would sound horrible but I got jumpscared by Tom’s ye ye ass quality voice.

I would give it a 3/10 maybe a 4/10

Just not worth it man

#doom.txt #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin critical #hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel spoilers

[shimamitsu]

is there actually something wrong with the m/m ships in dungeon meshi or is it more a matter of taste? this is a genuine question I'm very sorry if it comes off as rude. i'm really new to this fandom i literally just got here yesterday idk, from what I've seen in the anime there isn't really any m/m pairs?? just farcille and whatever kiki and namari have going on

there isn't something necessarily* wrong with m/m ships in dunmeshi but it's not about taste either. it's a matter of misogyny in fandom. i think anyone that has read dunmeshi before the anime aired (i've been here since 2021) can confirm that m/m ships barely existed. farcille was the most popular ship in the fandom (and still is i think, but we're struggling). most popular m/m ship was mithrun/kabru and they were still nothing compared to farcille in terms of popularity. other m/m ships were niche. i saw kabru/laios content here and there and i seriously think that people came up with senshi/chilchuck like a month ago bc i didn't see ANY ship content of them in my 3 years being a dunmeshi fan. like literally not a single thing. laios/shuro as well. but when the anime came out alllllllll these m/m pairings started popping out of nowhere and they gained a lot of popularity. there was a screenshot going around of the ships in the dunmeshi tag in ao3 (sorry if these aren't the correct terms lol i don't use ao3) bc m/m pairings recently surpassed f/f ones in number. ppl might think we're exaggerating but this phenomenon is very noticeable to those of us who have been here for a while (a lot of ppl who are new to the fandom probably don't know). that's why so many of us are bewildered. this is ofc another case of people not caring about female characters. they'd rather go for lukewarm yaoi instead of the women whose bond is like. top 3 most important dunmeshi relationships. come on. and i'm not even into shipping, i only care about the guys you see in my handle so imagine how tired i am that i'm talking so much about this lol. but luckily a lot of people have been speaking up about this and we might get more yuri soldiers after tomorrow's ep! i'll become a hater for you farcille #DUNGEON MESHI ANTI-YAOI MOVEMENT. leaving here a few posts by user eastgaysian that i think explain the issue very well

* i say necessarily bc senshi/chilchuck is pretty weird to me given the fact that senshi still sees chilchuck as someone who's a lot younger than him even when chilchuck tells them his age, but if i bring this up ppl are gonna be like "but actually long lived races" yadda yadda yadda so whatever

#also your question wasn't rude at all! ty for asking nicely

[davyjoneslockr]

3, 7, and 12, mista and fugo :3

TONY UNSHADOWBANNED PARTY I know this was from a month ago but I'm gonna answer it anyhow lmfao

(For this ask game)

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

For Mista, the Trish cleavage scene. You know the one. I don't think I have to explain this much. Boy Why Did You Do That. The only good thing to come out of that scene was jaunty jigglesacks + overeager horndog insane psychic damage combo of lines in the dub.

I could take this a lot of ways for Fugo tbh. Because there's a lot of things that drive me insane about him as a person, but looking at him as a character, I LOVE that he's rash and hurts his friends and his defining character moment is him making a selfish, cowardly decision. I guess I'd say his misogyny in Purple Haze Feedback? I'm admittedly a believer that, yes, he would fucking say that, but it sucks that he would. At least he gets better by the end lol. Fugo voice I'm sorry women Sheila E is me

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

I love that Mista has been designated Beautiful Brown-Eyed Bisexual Man by literally the entire fandom. Bi Mista brings us all together. And I do like the idea that his queerness is something he discovered much more slowly, and as a direct result of the gang. Something about that really ties in with the idea of the Bucci Gang as less of a realistic gang, more akin to a drag house or similar queer pseudo-family. Credit to that concept to Fox figcookie01 btw this is one of my favorite Vento Aureo analyses ever and it really informs how I conceptualize the Bucci Gang. Anyhow.

I also really like when people actually take care to explore his character and make him a very distinct, smarter-than-he-looks, older brother-type figure. It's really interesting when people explore his spirituality, too, whatever religion that may be, because that's a pretty important part of him. AND also OCD Mista truthers who know when to treat his superstitions and compulsions with some weight I love you forever. I think he's a character that gets watered down in fanworks a lot, but when his characterization's good, it's really good. There's plenty of artists and writers that have really blown me away with their Mista (and I say this as someone who's picky about characterization lol)

With Fugo, first of all. The PHF scars. Another thing that Mandela Effected the PHF fandom, but it's so so important to me. I love you physical, tangible, blatantly visible proof that Fugo has grown as a person since the day he abandoned the gang. Awesome. I also like that people mix and match his manga/anime colors, and every artist kinda draws him in a different way.

My favorite thing is probably the Fugo-Abbacchio stepkid and stepparent/siblings/Big Goth and Baby Emo Who Secretly Looks Up To Them dynamic. It’s awesome when it’s cartoonishly antagonistic and it’s awesome when it’s actually very sweet and heartfelt. Out of all the Bucci Gang dynamic interpretations the fandom’s produced, theirs is one of my favorites <3

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

SO MANY FOR BOTH OF THEM LOL. But I’ll try to list some I don’t talk about as much.

Besides The Carpenters, Mista’s a big fan of folk, acoustic singer-songwriter pop, and soft classic R&B/gospel. Artists with really strong voices tend to catch his attention. The Mamas and the Papas, Sam Cooke, Marvin Gaye, Simon and Garfunkel, The Seekers, and Gordon Lightfoot are some of his favorites. He’s also just a big sucker for love songs in general, and the hopeless romantic in him loves old girl groups like The Ronettes and The Shirelles. He’s also very much Schrödinger’s Guy to me. Cis? Trans? Who knows. Depends on what the situation calls for (though more often trans to me as of late). He’s just Some Dude.

Fugo’s a surprisingly good singer, but he’ll rarely do it if he knows other people are listening. A lot of times, he’ll sing in the shower, or when he’s alone in the car. As he gets older, he gets less self-conscious about it, and he’ll sing around the house when he’s with Giorno, or do duets with Mista for fun. There are also very much timelines in the Vento Aureo Multiverse in my brain where Fugo’s transfem. This also tends to coincide with transfem Abbacchio timelines, so there’s another layer added to Fugo looking up to Abbacchio, and I think Giorno (always transmasc to me) is really instrumental in helping her work through things and take pride in her transness. Maybe a little bit of a self-indulgent fluffy comfort hc that helps me work though my own genderisms lol

#ohh i missed my guys <- thinks about them every day #i need to talk about mista fugos more. blog policy everyone can send me mista fugos asks anytime btw. #jjba #jjba headcanons #pannacotta fugo #guido mista

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Alright, today yesterday I read chapters 17-21 and I sure have a lot of thoughts about Rhysand now. can you guess if theyre positive or negative? I'll give you a hint, its not the one that starts with a p

But before we get into that, can I just say, why the hell is everything happening so goddamn quickly YOURE ALL IMMORTAL. like, heres a rough timeline of acomaf so far: three months of Feyre being miserable in Spring post-UTM, then Rhysand takes her for one week, then Feyre's back in Spring for three weeks, then Rhysand takes her again for one week, then its less than three weeks of Feyre being back in Spring before Tamlin locks her in the manor and Rhysand and Mor take her back to the Night Court. Its been barely half a year! The reason Im bringing that up is first of all, it very much seems like Feyre is already beginning to warm up Rhysand at this point when that is absolutely not enough time for that after what he did to her. And second of all, theyre already demanding so much of her when everyone except for Rhys hasnt even spent 24 hours with her in total. And she just agrees to everything?? Right off the bat, basically the only way this makes any sense is if Rhysand is mind controlling her

Also, this is only semi-related, but i swear I remember Mor wearing a red dress to their first get-together at the HoW and Feyre not reacting to it at all ?? Also, Cassian siphons, they were specifically like a fire-y red what the hell. Now, was that just a mistake or did Rhysand use his mind powers to turn off the part of Feyre's brain that gets triggered at the sight of the color red so she wouldnt ruin his family reunion? You decide.

Alright, now lets talk about Feyre. Ive had some trouble properly analysing her the past few chapters because I was really focused on trying to figure out what exactly made her so unhappy at the spring court vs why she likes the night court so much when they seem very similar. It seemed like her motivation was flip-flopping all over the place, similar to chapters 1-3, but she already came across as far less traumatized somehow, so it felt weird that she would still have so much trouble really articulating what she wants, even to herself. But then I realized, its not that shes flip-flopping, her motivations are just contradictory; she wants to be an important political player who gets to Do Stuff but she doesnt want anyone to pay any attention to her, which is why having an empty title and no actual power staying in a city full of people who dont care if their high lord is just walkin around right beside them is so appealing

And its really frustrating because its another instance of her just getting what she wants right away instead of having to go through any character development. Shes bad at communicating and instead of even attempting to work on that, she just gets a mindreader for a soulmate, and she cant do smalltalk with nobles in order to earn their respect as Lady of Spring and instead of learning to adapt or putting her foot down and refusing to deal with the courtly bullshit at the cost of her political power, she just gets a leadership position that was quite literally made for her.

Somewhat related to Feyre being bad at politicking, they keep bringing up the fact that Tamlin just wanted her to throw parties and wear pretty dresses and maybe pop out some sons at the spring court and its just so annoying. Of course, much has already been said about how ironic it is when you consider how she ends up in ACOSF so Im not gonna go into detail on that but I did want to mention it. Also, parties and other social gatherings were a pretty important way for (noble) women who were kept out of politics to still participate in them in the past, and even if we take out the misogyny that just suddenly materialized in this book, Feyre cant read, doesnt know this land and barely knows what its like being the daughter of a rich guy, much less an actual noblewoman, of course she cant do much but sit around and reassure people that everything is gonna be alright by virtue of her presence

Speaking of the weird misogyny, its so baffling to me the reason shes being objectified and dehumanized (no pun intended) is that shes a woman whos seen as only good for child-rearing, when it really should be her being objectified and being dehumanized by being put on a pedestal for being the Saviour Of Prythian. It seems so obvious like, Ive been rotating some ideas for an ACOMAF-rewrite AU type thing in my head since before I even started reading this book, and one of the first things I decided was that everyone was gonna call feyre The Cursebreaker and nothing else and she would feel really weird and bad about it. I literally dont think anything wouldve changed if her being objectified was a more personal issue rather than something resulting from systemic misogyny, other than the fact that Rhysand couldnt be a feminist in-universe if that was the case

Now, before I move on to the next thing I wanted to talk about, I wanna quickly explain what I mean by "the misogyny just materialized in the second book" because some people might say "oh, but the first book had misogyny as well" and it definitely did but not to the same extent. ACOTAR was kinda weird because it seems to be a pretty egalitarian world, Feyre doesnt think its weird that a woman is a mercenary and while considering that the Spring Court might have a High Lady instead of a High Lord, she doesnt say anything about how it would unusual to have a woman be a leader, but it has this coating of "period-typical misogyny" over it, seemingly just because its what you expect from these kinds of pseudo-medieval european-inspired fantasy settings

So you still get all women being expected to wear dresses and Feyre being an exception for not wanting to wear one and when Feyre daydreams about getting rid of her sisters, she daydreams about marrying them off rather than daydream about them getting jobs or something. But even with that, while Feyre is considered a bit strange for not wanting to wear a dress at the Spring Court, she still ultimately gets to just wear pants without it being a big deal. And then we get to ACOMAF and suddenly theres FGM thats completely normalized, domestic abuse, women being expected to do child rearing and "continue the bloodline" by default even though children were supposed to be super rare and fae should absolutely not structure their lives around them and Feyre being absolutely baffled at the idea of a political leader having a second-in-command thats a woman. And again, it very much seems like the only reason for that is that it makes Rhysand look better if hes recuing women in general from systemic inequality, rather than just rescuing a single woman from her personal problems

And with that, lets finally talk about my most detested, Rhysand Nolastname. He fucking sucks man. In a past post I made a point about comparing specifically ACOTAR!Tamlin with specifically ACOMAF!Rhys because it thought it made sense to compare Tamlin when hes written as a love interest to Rhys being written as a love interest, but honestly, theres so little difference between Tamlin being written as an antagonist in ACOMAF and Rhys being written as a love interest that it feels kinda pointless now. Like, Feyre is upset that Tamlin wont tell her anything about the politics happening, but is inexplicably fine with Rhysand not telling her what he wants from the summer court, she hates meeting with Tamlins associates and having meaningless smalltalk with them but likes meeting Rhysand's, she doesnt like Tamlin flaunting his wealth but is fine with all of Rhysand's expensive bullshit, literally the only difference between them is that Feyre likes one and and hates the other, again, for no real reason because they are the same. Well, the same in their treatment of Feyre, Rhysand is arguably a worse person who has done and is still doing a lot more harm on a larger scale but Im posting this in the anti-rhys tag so you already knew that

Anyway, thats it for now, this got kinda long but I hope you enjoyed it

#anti acotar #anti sjm #anti acomaf #anti rhysand #anti feysand #flames and darkness liveblog

[dennisboobs]

i genuinely wonder if people’s issue with Dennis “winning” at the end of DTAMHD might be influenced by Goes Bowling. like, if the order had been reversed or if they just saw the episode in a vacuum there wouldn’t be this want for Dennis to actually fail at lowering his blood pressure. which inherently assumes that Dennis breaking every bone in his hand doesn’t negate him “winning” but no one being there to see Dee actually win at bowling negates her achievement. which is a different but still important can of worms.

if anything, the lyrics of Listen To Your Heart make it more clear that the most fitting outcome of this episode is Dennis succeeding in lowering his blood pressure.

and in general i thoroughly enjoy when the gang “wins” and i hope small good things continue to be peppered in for them cuz it takes some of the weight off of the whole ‘they can never truly get better or make real progress because this is a sitcom with the premise of them being shitty people so that wouldn’t be funny’ or whatever. their “wins” lighten the existential dread that comes from seeing this group of friends get worse over the course of 18 years. Inspires hope even.

(sorry for just dropping this here i just figured you might have some better/additional thoughts on this than what i have)

I definitely agree, that's a huge part of it, I started seeing the complaint pop up frequently after bowling (which I think is a 10/10 episode lol) and it got worse after DTAMHD aired and personally I just. disagree. with the reasoning for both eps. I think people are overly sensitive about Dee not "winning" in that episode because it's very specifically tied to Dennis saying that women are inferior to men, which is fair, but I also don't think it's that deep. It feels like... extremely typical childish sibling rivalry to me. Just because Dennis' "villainy" is cranked up to 11 doesn't mean what he's actually doing is really....... that bad. I've done the same shit to my sibling, and they've done the same to me while bowling. The competition was never really about Dennis vs. Dee or men vs. women, it was about getting in Dee's head. Carrying on that same ribbing from when the twins were kids, but drenched in misogyny because Dennis is intentionally trying to discourage the ladies' team. I don't think Dee's accomplishment is negated because everyone left, it's a personal triumph, just like Dennis' in DTAMHD. She managed to succeed at something she had been unable to for decades, proved she was capable of breaking out of Den's mind games, which is also in-part due to her own lack of self confidence (fostered by Dennis and Barbara ofc), she just didn't care enough about that victory by the end for it to feel like one. Because it became about proving herself to Dennis instead of winning the actual game. Which is not unusual for the gang at all, The Gang Gets Invincible is a good example of the same exact thing happening. Dee does prove herself to be better than Mac and Dennis, but in the end it doesn't matter because as soon as she reveals she's a woman she shatters her fuckin' leg on that kick. No matter how far she gets by being genuinely good at something, she can't make it that last extra step because her focus turns to the wrong thing and it is ultimately what fucks her over. She is a legitimate threat to the guys in terms of skill, Dennis knows she's more than competent at bowling (hence the mind games employed by the guys' team instead of it being a fair competition, which they knew they couldn't manage), and she proved she was more physically capable than him at football too. like Gets Invincible she actually wins, it's just bittersweet, and it's not good enough for Dee. She proved herself, but external validation is what she was seeking, not that internal win where she knows she is capable of beating Den.

I absolutely 1000% think that mixing it up is important so that the show doesn't stagnate, become predictable, or you know. become plain unfunny because something is out of balance with the main cast, and I think DTAMHD aimed to fix Dennis' miserable ass that's been pulling down the show, especially because Glenn has mentioned he wants to play a happier Dennis (which is. good, actually, we very rarely see anything but straight man Dennis anymore, but we got a taste of it in Inflates BECAUSE I believe Den has been doing this emotional regulation trick across s16, and I don't think we would have been able to if not for that decision to have him actually "win" ie. change himself for the better). The gang's dynamic has shifted over time from being a group of jerks to a group of idiots with Dennis as their keeper, and I think the little changes in 16 were setting it up to shift that back to..... a group of jerks again. Like we all read in those early reviews that noticed the gang went a lot easier on Dee and didn't call her a bird five million times, that is one piece of it, Dennis trying not to explode in anger is another, Charlie showing he's actually quite competent is yet another, Mac not being a victim of Dennis but secretly the puppetmaster who has been playing dumb is another.

So yeah, I believe that the opposite of "the gang should be punished for doing something bad" should also be true. The gang should get to win because they Listened To Their Heart and made a positive change. They should get to have moments like the s15 finale, or King of the Rats where the gang does something nice and the episode just ends, there's no final gag, no twist, just us remembering why this group of weirdos is friends. But it doesn't need to be Carries a Corpse every time either. Dee can have a little win, Dennis can have a little win. They really aren't huge things, Den's is just heavily exaggerated because it was in his head, dramatized, and he accepted the small win wheras Dee did not.

#ask ada

[plushiehamuko]

You are literally so real hello that. phenomenon annoys me a lot.. i like thinking of ryuji and ann Trying to become somewhat friends with goro, but its cool just thinking what they could talk about on their own . (Like just ann and goro, without mentioning joker, or just ryuji and goro) And of course, ann is perfectly awesome on her own, not only with another character(s)

Also gonna be real im not a super sumihead (lol) but i do like her and she has a lot going on..like. guys theres a lot to unpack here where all the sumiheads at. Ok they're probably there HSHSHD but its true you see her more in the bg of stuff u_u

YESSSSSSSSS YOU GET IT

i honestly don't inherently hate ann and goro friendship. i truly don't. i used to think it was a cute concept actually, if anyone were to have patience and kindness with him after Everything i think it'd be her. but now i see it and i immediately get defensive bc the way they are portrayed is just... bad. i especially really hate how people seem to have turned them into the stereotypical "gay man and his girl best friend" dynamic in all of the content for them bc they simply... aren't like that. it's not their personalities. and i think if people wanna do sh//uake while making ann friends with akechi they need to be not misogynistic about it. make her an important character instead of just having her pop up when akechi wants to go to the mall and go #GirlShopping and talk about love advice. like people in general need to do a way better job of checking themselves with the whole "yaoi and their girl best friend" thing bc so often it's just misogyny and acting like women are nothing but side characters

AND THE SUMI THING... jesus christ idk if you saw that one clip from persona 5 tactica promo material where it's sumi, joker, and akechi and the camera is on sumi for like 0.2 seconds before it switches to joker and akechi for several seconds and she is just like. no joke in the background. and i was SO MAD when i saw that. and i thought the general reaction would be outrage. bc she is just as much a part of the game as akechi is, so whyyyyy would they do that, give my girl some goddamn screentime. but no. the sh//uakers made so much art of this exact moment. sticking her in the background. it was a whole trend. and it's like. that's so fucking annoying!!!!!! she's not a background character of sh//uake. her ties to them account for like. maybe 1 hour total of the 150 hour game that is p5r, and many of the other hours of the game have moments that distinguish her and make her an interesting character in her own right. but i legit don't see content of her that's not primarily sh//uake content anymore, and when she is in ship content of them, she is often metaphorically or even literally shoved in the background

and it's like. that's misogyny. this is misogynistic. you do realize that right.

there is a right way to both ship men and include women in your content, but the p5 fandom certainly hasn't figured it out. please. i am begging you guys to do better

#squishy talks too much #i am so sorry for how long this post is i am always waiting for an excuse to be mad about this #ann is one of my favorite characters so i get heated #and sumi is also kinda one of my faves #but like. i've kinda given up on her #like i see what goes on in her tags and what she has for canon content and i'm like. #oh girl i'm so sorry. i'm so so sorry but i can't fix that mess or work with it #people talk to squishy!!

[sydneyadamuhusband]

Was writing my fanfic and then suddenly, a angst one-sided sydrichie popped up in my mind so here's a quick, probably shitty, very angsty sydrichie fit about richie being in love with Sydney

Change | Sydrichie

angst, one-sided, unrequited, mentions of death, also light misogyny kinda? (dw it's not that bad)

Summary: Richie hates change, never has, probably never will. There is one thing he wished he could change though.

words: 2,118

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Richie Jerimovich still wears his ring. He wears it because he doesn’t like change. Never did. Probably never will. Because the times he did, it never ended well. 

He was the shit in his 20s, constant girls left from right. Him and Mikey were just full of adventures with girls that they barely remembered the name of. Bar hopping. Snagging beautiful women’s numbers. Sneaking Carmy into college for brownie points with some sorority chicks.

“Yeah, he’s like my little kid brother. He had nowhere else to go tonight and he hates being alone.” Cue the ‘awe’ and ‘you’re so sweet’.

Cut to him waking up in some chick’s bed and praying that Carmy didn’t drink or take anything cause him and Mikey were already pissing mama bird off.

“Stop taking him to your little parties, fuckhead.” Donna would say, “He’s a baby ok? So no trouble.” She’d make him and Mikey promise all the time that they wouldn’t.

Mikey was the first thing Richie had broken a pattern with. 

Richie used to be a shy little kid in third grade, not talkative, not really social either. He didn’t change it, didn’t want to. Just like last year, he was planning to sit by himself. But then this other kid, a real loud one, sees him points at him and beckons him over. 

And Richie breaks the pattern and goes over to him and changes. It was just them, together since. It was static, unbreakable and just plain perfect. 

Him and Mikey, it was always him and Mikey.

They were always getting into shit cause that’s just what they’d do. Their pattern, their cycle. It followed them into adulthood. Same bars, same shitty restaurant, sometimes same girls. They’d say they won’t get attached to one.

“Mo bitches mo problems.” Richie would say, stumbling into the Berzatto’s house with Mikey drunk.

And Mikey would agree, clinging onto him with the smell of cigarettes and beer. “Mo bitches, mo problems.”

And of course, a little disappointed Natalie who was the one who opened the door for them. “You guys are gross.” 

Richie remembers when did it again, broke a pattern and changed. His brain won’t let it go, especially when he got the evidence tethered to his finger.

Him and Mikey were getting wasted and screaming some random lyrics in this sleazy bar downtown. The lights were low and the air was thick with beer and sweet. Their arms were tight around on another, squeezing each other as they belted. 

As they swung each other, mic in hand, Richie’s eyes landed on her. 

Blonde hair, sweet big eyes and a sweet smile. She was sitting on the bar side, an empty glass with a lemon on the rim in hand and curious eyes on them. She looked amused, a little concerned but definitely entertained.

Then the music stopped, but the rush, the excitement, that pounding in his heart didn’t. He sat by her, almost falling off his chair with Mikey slung around his shoulders, laughing in his ear. But he couldn’t hear the incoherent drunk jokes Mikey was saying, he was too focused on her.

“Hi.” He was pretty sure his voice was slurred, but she didn’t seem to care.

“Hi.” She said back. “You guys sounded amazing up there.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm, I’m impressed.” She swirls the ice in her glass with her little black straw, “It was horrible but I'm impressed by you guy’s confidence.” Richie laughs, charmed. 

And they talked and talked for what felt like hours until the bar chatter died and Mikey’s laughs quiet down into soft snoring. The bar closed and with Mikey’s sleeping body slobbering on his shoulder, he got her number. 

He remembers so vividly, hauling Mikey into the car and Tiffany giving him a small little smile before getting into her cab. That night he thought about her in a daze. Still though, fear swelled in the back of his mind. This wasn’t what he usually felt when finding some chick to mess around with. This was something new, something different, a change.

They went on a date, then another, then another. Then the rest of history.  

Beautiful history.

Painful history.

The type that keeps Richie up at night. History he wears on his finger.

They got engaged when she was three months pregnant with Eva, all sick and green and tired. Richie looked at her with her eye bags, messy hair, laying on the bed with cramps and a bad temper and said ‘Yeah, I'm gonna marry her. I’m going to commit to this change.”

 He wanted to see this. Wanted to wake up next to her in bed with their baby and not some chick he found the night before.

They got married after Eva’s birth, the wedding was amazing. Felt unreal, looking at her in an all white dress, their baby being rocked gently by Donna, surrounded by who felt like family practically. Richie had that, Richie had them.

All because of change, good change.

Mikey, his first voluntary change, is on the mic.“If you told me that Richie, the mother fuckin’ player was going to be tied down one day? I would told you to fuck off.” 

Younger Richie would’ve probably done the same too. Would’ve probably laughed straight into the face of whoever was telling him that.

“Yo bro listen to me,” He would probably say, grabbing at whoever’s shoulder. “mo bitches, mo problems.”

“But here we are huh? Richard Jerimovich.” Mikey raises a glass. “My best friend, my partner in crime. - “damn right” Donna cuts in - Marrying and settling down, having a beautiful wife and family. I'm proud of you man.”

Mikey passed away five months ago now. 

But Richie still feels his presence. Still texts him mundane things like “Yo cousin we need to get some more beef” or sends him reels.

Richie and Tiff divorced when Eva was 2. Three years ago. 

But Richie still wears the ring. 

He doesn’t know why, maybe it’s just a habits he can’t break. Patterns he doesn’t want to change.

He notices the glances from everyone. Noticed the glances he got from Mikey two months after the divorce. The way his eyebrows would furrow and he’d look at him with pity before going back to work. Richie takes it off anytime he meets up with Eva on the off chance that Tiff is there. He doesn’t want to see her reaction. And he notices Sydney’s curious eyes on it when she passes him sometimes.

“If you are going to say ‘can i ask?’ don’t.”

And Sydney doesn’t say anything but nods like she gets it. But she really doesn't.

If she did, she wouldn’t be doing this brand new shit. She’s fucking up his ecosystem, changing what made this place the was it was. Making new expensive dishes and adding some weird hipster shit, it’s fucking their place up.

She’s so determined to do it too, like actively going against him to ruin this. She’s so determined to make things the way she sees fit. With her stern brown eyes and her smartass mouth. She turns corners so sharply like she owns the place, her braids whip the air like they’re even snapping at people. And that stupid look she gives him everytime he says something like he isn’t making sense. 

She makes his blood boil.

Her presence is always there, he can always see her out of the corner of his eye. He can smell her, the mix of hair products and cocoa butter smothers him each time she passes by with a small “behind” or “corner”. 

She’s just always there making her presence known. Even down to the music suddenly cutting off that’s followed by rhythmic pounding in his heart cause now he knows her presence is there. Pounding out of anger of course, and frustration. 

He could scream at her until he’s blue in the fucking face and she still wouldn’t get it. 

She doesn’t get it, this place shouldn’t be running the way it fucking is.

And Richie hates it cause the restaurant is going great. The kitchen’s clean, everybody’s getting work done a lot faster than they had before. And her new little system with Carmy is working out perfectly. But it always starts of good, then fucking fails, always does. 

He plays with his ring.

Not even Tina will back him up. 

And it’s all because of fucking Sydney and her stupid little notebook and big brown eyes and little bandanas and her scent. Everything about her is just in his mind and blurs everything out in his brain. 

Sometimes he can't hear Tina’s little jokes or Carmy’s commands. Cause his mind is too focused on Sydney and how she shouldn’t be carrying that big ass box of shit or how her apron is a bit slanted, or her bandana is coming loose. And imaging getting the box for her, helping her fix the apron or tying her bandana properly.

And he keeps noticing her small little emotions and body language. From the way her pace gets faster when she's frustrated to the way her eyes almost burst out of her skull when she’s yelling (most likely at him) Richie notices everything.

It was to the point that Tina tells him, “Don’t Richie.”

“Don’t what?”

“You know what.” Tina nods over at Sydney who’s checking things off on her stupid little notebook that has stickers on it.

Oh her and that stupid fucking notepad always writing things down. He realized pretty quickly it was her ripping pages out of that notepad and sticking them to walls and shit reminding them to do things with stupid little smiles and neat handwriting. 

“Hey she’s always the one starting shit.”

“Not what I meant.”

And–

Oh

Richie got it now.

He gives the quickest glance at Sydney, she is still writing down something in her notepad, nibbles on her pen too. And Richie knows that she does that alot when she’s trying to come up with something.

He stutters. “Oh come on Tina, she’s practically a kid!’

“Exactly Richie.” Tina grabs a knife.”Don’t.” And she turns around and passes Sydney. She says behind as she does and Sydney briefly looks up at her and smiles warmly.

And that’s fucking mind boggling. Tina being all up on Sydney’s side like some mother hawk and accusing him of that.

And Richie still wears his ring, Tina should know he wouldn’t– Richie shakes it off and walks away. It didn’t matter. Because he didn’t like Sydney anyway. Not even in a friendly way. Everyone knows that.

He just notices things about her cause she makes herself so obvious to everyone, that’s what Sydney fucking does. She likes to do the small things that make people notice her, she likes to stay in people’s minds and she likes to stay in Richie’s mind.

She does this shit on purpose, she got mind games, Richie swears on it. Changing the restaurant. Changing his brain. Changing everything. 

Richie doesn’t like change, never has. Probably never will. He changed his seat in third grade, left him with a dead friend and a fuckton of debt. He changed his dating pattern. Left him divorced with this fucking ring he just cant take off. Change doesn’t do him any good cause things don’t stay good. 

And now they have a big new change, Sydney. She changed the restaurant, the staff, the kitchen, even him.

She’s in his brain, lingering there at night at rewinding in his head. Her laugh echoes in his brain and her smile is imprinted behind his eyelids like some tattoo. He can't get her off his mind and he's scared that he doesn’t really want to.

He wants to see her smile at him and wants to make her laugh. He wants to help her with those stupid heavy shit and her bandana. He wants to talk to her, genuinely. No arguing, no talk about the fucking resteraunt. He wants to get her number at a bar after belting out his lungs with his best friend. He wants to call her in the middle of the night and talk. 

And it’s just plain bad.

 Sydney Adamu is his co-worker who’s half his age and has a successful career and life ahead of her. She fucking flipped this resteraunt and whipped the workers into shape. And her food is fucking fire. Richie Jerimovich is a divorced father who still clings onto his dead marriage and dead friend. 

Richie still wears his ring though. It’s the one thing she can’t change, this ring tethered to his finger. But yet somehow, something deep inside of Richie wishes she could.

I wrote this instead of finishing my fanfic. TRUST, part two of that one is coming

#sydrichie #sydney adamu #richie jerimovich #the bear fx #sydney x richie #richie x sydney #fx the bear #the bear

[aihoshiino]

I'm really sad for Ai bc now in the new chapter, another grown woman is jealous of her for something that she can't control.

First was her mother bc the guy he was dating was attracted to her own daughter, so of course she had to blame little Ai bc of that:(

And now, Airi is jealous bc Ai is having a good time with Hikaru, his victim... FUCK AIRI AAAA

But fuck, Ai can't have a break for all the grown women that hate her guts just for being herself. At least she had Miyako that was like a mother figure, but still:(((

Was very shrimptresting to see this come in like a half hour after this previous question.... we truly are all On The Wavelength

But yeah, I wasn't expecting to see a reiteration of this theme as we went further into the movie so I'm actually kind of glad to see it coming back up even if it does cause me endless agony lol. That chapter with Ayumi really did cement this idea of 'adultification as abuse' as one of the foundations of Ai's exploitation so I think it makes sense to see that repeated with Airi, especially because like...

I talk a lot about how misogyny played a huge role in how Ai was abused and exploited and while a lot of that was built into the industry, the sad reality is that yeah, sometimes that shit comes from other women, too - and I think this adultification inflicted on Ai by Ayumi (and presumably, eventually, Airi) very much stems from internalized misogyny.

Idk if it's something Akasaka stumbled into since I'm relatively sure he wouldn't have the lived experience to speak to it so intentionally but it's really interesting to see this constantly popping back up in this story written by an author who at least publicly presents as a cis man. In general, while he slips up in places, Akasaka defo has a much better handle on writing women than a lot of other male mangaka do lol.

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #csa mention