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sharing intense kisses while caressing each other’s bare bodies 🔥 CHEF OAB RECOMMENDED #LoveNoLongBeansEP7
349,121 görüntüleme • 2 yıl önce •via X (Twitter)
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Wooper (not actually a real wooper)2 yıl önce
The fishes >(👁️👄👁️)<
ッ ᴍ ɪ ᴜ | 👻🍃2 yıl önce
they've seen it all 😌
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Istg the sensuality in Love In The Air was on a whole different level. The desire Rain and Phayu had for each other was out of this world. Every intimate scene of them was sex even without actual sex. Even just “small” kisses were filled with intense hunger🔥🔥 #4YearsofLoveinTheAir
Pearlie✨
288,224 görüntüleme • 1 ay önce
![[🥀🪷] Wrote this as an archive because I finally had free time to put my thoughts about them into words, even if it’s a little late. You don’t have to agree with what I wrote here, just as I don’t expect everyone to read them the way I do. This is simply how Murong Qingyi and Ren Susu have always been to me. I’ve always loved stories where two people understand each other better than anyone else in the world, because they’re also the only two people capable of hurting each other that deeply. We all know that Qingyi and Susu do not love in the same direction. We also know that, despite how similar they are, they learned completely different ways to survive. They’re mirrors of each other. Both carry wounds that began long before they met. Both learned sacrifice. Both spent years believing their own happiness mattered less than everyone else’s. And yet, somewhere along the way, their hearts arrived at opposite conclusions about what love is supposed to look like. This is where they begin hurting each other without ever intending to. When Qingyi senses distance between them, his instinct is always to move closer. Not because he wants to control her, but because closeness has always been his way of loving. If someone he loves is suffering, he wants to stand beside them. If they’re carrying something heavy, he wants to carry it with them. If they’re walking into danger, his first instinct is to follow. Susu is the exact opposite. The moment she realizes the person she loves might get hurt because of her, her instinct is to step away. Not because she loves them less, but because distance has become her way of protecting the people she loves. She would rather carry everything alone than watch someone else bleed in her place. And so, without either of them intending to, they begin moving in opposite directions while chasing the very same thing, a love that feels safe enough to stay. What makes this so sad is that neither of them is choosing fear over love. It is that both of them loved with everything they had, but each had learned a different way of protecting that love. Qingyi isn’t trying to pressure her. Susu isn’t trying to reject him. Both are speaking the language of love. They simply aren’t speaking the same dialect. To Qingyi, love means staying. To Susu, love means leaving before staying becomes another tragedy. To Qingyi, sharing someone’s burden is the purest form of devotion. To Susu, becoming someone’s burden is the greatest fear she can imagine. So every time Qingyi helps her, Susu mistakes it for yet another sacrifice she is asking him to make. And every time Susu disappears, Qingyi experiences another loss he cannot understand. Yet the comfort one seeks becomes the discomfort the other experiences, leaving them to mistake protection for pain. Qingyi finds safety in knowing that someone chooses to stay, even when life becomes difficult. Having grown up questioning whether he would ever be chosen, he comes to equate permanence with love itself. To stay, despite everything, is not merely what he longs for. It is how he loves. Susu finds safety in making sure the people she loves have the chance to survive, even if that survival no longer includes her. After carrying guilt for so many losses, love becomes inseparable from sacrifice. In her heart, devotion is measured by what she is willing to give up, until leaving becomes the greatest kindness she believes she can offer. So love becomes something they keep missing, not because it isn’t there, but because they keep meeting it from opposite directions. Qingyi sees distance and feels another unanswered question. Susu sees closeness and feels another life she might destroy. Neither of them is responding to the present. They’re responding to the stories trauma has been whispering to them since they were children Qingyi asks, “Will you choose me this time?” Susu asks, “Will you still alive if I do?” Those two questions are sad because neither of them is wrong. Both fears are profoundly human. Both were born long before they ever found each other. Yet to call it incompatibility would be too simple. What stood between them was not the absence of love, but the presence of fears neither of them knew how to name. It’s sad because their deepest fears are perfectly designed to trigger each other’s. His greatest fear has always been losing the person he loves without understanding why. Her greatest fear has always been becoming the reason the person she loves loses everything. So, he moves closer. She moves away. This is the point where they begin to wound one another. Both believe they’re loving correctly. The same moment calls for closeness in one heart and distance in the other, leaving them to mistake each other’s protection for rejection. But love was never about asking him to stop staying or asking her to stop protecting. It was about helping them understand the fear hidden beneath each other’s choices. They have to see each other not as the enemy of their needs. They were simply same person, but both are shaped by different wounds and protecting themselves in the only language they have ever known. Because in the end, it was never that Qingyi and Susu didn’t love each other enough. It was that they were both trying to protect the person they loved and simply searching for safety in love, each in the only way their heart had ever learned. One stayed. One left. Neither choice came from the absence of love. Both came from quiet hope. They were never standing on opposite sides of love. They were simply standing on opposite sides of fear. They are not simply one person who chases and another who runs. They are two damaged people whose deepest fears are perfectly designed to trigger each other’s. Perhaps it was never about changing the way they love. It was about trusting the very thing they had feared their entire lives, that someone could stay without abandoning them, and someone could stay without being destroyed by loving them. Qingyi believes that if he can endure enough, love will survive. If he can bear enough pain, make enough sacrifices, stay through every storm, then perhaps no one will leave him again. But love was never asking him to prove how much he could survive. It was asking him to trust that he did not have to carry everything alone. Susu has mistaken fear for love for so long that it has become the language through which she loves. She calls it cowardice, because leaving feels easier than watching the people she loves suffer because of her. If she had loved Qingyi a little less, perhaps she could have spoken the words she kept swallowing. She might have trusted him with the truth instead of trying to protect him from it. But she loved him so completely that silence felt kinder than asking him to bear the unbearable weight of loving her. In Jane Austen words, “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” Susu believes love means protecting Qingyi from herself. Qingyi believes love means protecting Susu from everything else. Neither realizes that love cannot thrive when one person is always the protector and the other is always the one being protected. At some point, they must trust each other enough to become partners instead of martyrs. Because the truth is, there was never a version of their story where no one paid a price. Love had already asked something of them both. The only question was whether they would face those consequences separately, each trying to protect the other in silence, or together, with open hearts, clear eyes, and the quiet peace that comes from choosing one another even when the future cannot be promised. Also, I don’t agree with everything Qingyi and Susu did. Sometimes I wanted to scream at both of them, moments I wished they had chosen differently. But perhaps that’s what makes them feel human. They aren’t defined by perfect decisions, but by deeply human ones, choices made in fear, in love, and in the desperate hope of protecting each other. Once you understand the fear beneath their choices, it’s much harder to reduce either of them to hero or villain. So, please… go easy on them. They’ve gone through so much. ❤️🩹 “Who loves who more?” At this point, I think it’s safe to say the person suffering the most in this relationship is me.](https://image.24vids.com/tw-2083704976082395195/amplify_video_thumb/2083699973393350656/img/Am4ah0QCAz2NORaU.jpg)
