#but its a non issue just a fact if she thinks about it

[harpieisthecarpie]

Thanks for the peer review o7 i will use this power for ramble

I do think that a lot of the fic sex/romance issues were started in a genuine push to not spread misinformation, bc iirc fics used to parrot a lot of common myths re: intercourse (even moreso than now), especially ones about non-"traditional" non-cishet practices. And safety. And anatomy.

Which, it's cool and good to see a push for sex positivity and education! But I do feel there's now a pressure (internal or external) for the sexual aspects of fic to be textbook safe, sane, and consensual in all avenues.

I have 2 main reasons (beyond fic ≠ sex ed) that the squeaky clean route shouldn't be our only route. Which are: characterization, and erotica vs romance.

Firstly, characterization:

Intimacy can be an amazing way to explore characters, a relationship, or even a setting in your story. You can miss out on a lot by treating sex as simply a lesson rather than a tool in your narrative toolbelt!

Tbh I think the reason gen z ppl (like me) often say we "hate sex scenes" in media is bc they feel unnecessarily explicit or unnecessary in general, and we often don't have the language for what the problem is. Or we misattribute the ickiness to sex scenes happening at all!

I'm grayace and they can be boring af, or sometimes creepy as hell for reasons unrelated to the narrative (stop auteur directors now! /hj).

But one of my fave fave fave book series is the Binding Light trilogy by Freya Marske (I think the author's on tumblr actually), in which the sex scenes are narratively pivotal. And I, the sex scene hater, love the series sm I didn't even have to look up the title or author just now!! Unheard of!!!

These books are so dear to me bc the intimate scenes mirror both the (wonderful, superb) magic system AND the characters' relationships! Their sexual vulnerability and connection evolves alongside the characters' development. I've never before rambled about breathplay as a metaphor for trust, but Marske had me writing ESSAYS. My apologies to my friends' DMs

At first I had skipped those sex scenes, but once I had to go back for plot info, actually reading them made me go "oh holy shit this is all important".

I think stories miss that relevence pretty often. You don't NEED to have sex scenes, but also you CAN have them wherever it feels right.

IMO It's important to treat intimacy (of all kinds) in a work as character exploration first, rather than purely mile markers or something for characters (and writers) to "get a good grade in"

Moving on to erotica vs romance:

I've recently been watching a lot of SAVY WRITES BOOKS on youtube, and in one of her CoHo reviews she talked about the difference between works labelled "erotica" and "romance".

To her, romance novels have a sense of realism, they exist in a world that functions (at least adjacently) like ours. A romance would treat consent and safe sex like we do irl (or some historical equivalent based on setting). Basically, characters wouldn't be able to smash in a subway car without getting charged with public indecency.

Thus, if the characters were practicing BDSM, they would on some level acknowledge they're performing a scene (ex. consent check-ins and safewords). Here we have some level of RACK. Or if its unhealthy, there's framing acknowledging that fact!

Whereas erotica exists inside that BDSM scene! An erotic fic that tags its kinks and content correctly has given you enough for you to have informed consent. If you read the fic, you will thus be reading the "fantasy" of a BDSM scene. We know this isn't necessarily realistic or healthy, and that's fine! We read it with the knowledge it's not meant to be!

Uhhhh so. This was a really long way for me to explain "fanfic isn't sex ed so it's fine if they don't always use contraceptive"

tl;dr Intimacy and sex are cool for characterization. And smut is a Scene, if a person is informed of its contents all consent is accounted for :)

author’s notes today: hey guys so just a warning there isn’t 100% explicit verbal consent even though they’re both really into it so remember this is FICTION, also they don’t use a condom :((( but in real life safe sex is important!!! please be safe out there everyone

a/n back in the day: kept thinking about ____ stabbing knives through both of _____’s hands to pin him in place while they fucked so here you go lol =P

[saltscars]

Pony is a woman in the way a ship is she/her. A ship has no gender, but that's the standard language, so whatever floats your boat (ehehe)

[dunmeshistash]

How do you feel about Milsiril? Like what do you think of her interactions between the canaries, her goals, her intentions and morality? I keep seeing people with mixed feelings about her, some saying she's just toxic or morally grey or doing bad but with good intentions or that she's just a mentally ill and literally so much more, also with the comic about Otta calling Milsiril love for her children/Kabru as just love for a pet, I always saw people take it at face value and say yes, Milsiril did love them more as pets instead of children, did she take up raising/adopting non-elf children because she felt like none of them could ridicule her like the elves did because they didn't know what an elf was supposed to be like (and also because they were children) or did she inherently view them as less? I mean the canaries and I'm pretty sure almost all of the cast in dungeon meshi have some sort perspective on different races especially because how they were taught about them, i just think it was interesting to finally see someone interpret it as Otta just misinterpreting Milsiril, I'm just really interested in her, i think shes neat, sorry for the rant!

Ooh, well to preface this, I hadn't really realized Milsiril was such a controversial character before my last post, I kinda live under a rock. She's really not a character I had given much thought besides what I wrote there before it, but I can do my best to express what I have thought since, with sources for it. I'm not sure what order to go thru so I'll just go by manga appearances and then extras, this will probably be quite a long post

This is the first time she shows up in the manga (ch55) Kabru is wondering about what future they might have if the elves take them into custody because of the ancient magic, he thinks about Milsiril as a get out of jail card, and mentions "There's a chance they would make us become permanent resident of the elven lands." with the image of Milsiril holding him. I don't think that means she would be the one to not let them leave, since this would probably be an legal issue, and the fact Milsiril lives away from other Elves. It does set up that Milsiril is quite overprotective tho, with Kabru's reaction to her teary hug. (rest is under a cut)

The next time she shows up is in ch61 right after Kabru falls down the dungeon along with Mithrun, he faints and has this flashback

She's being her overbearing self treating Kabru's small injury as if its something you need to be in bed for, hand feeding him like he's a toddler, and when he insists he wants to learn how to fight and be strong like her, she hugs him revealing to us for the first time her arm scars, she's cleary in distress too, so you wonder "what has happened to her?"

It continues in the next pages, as she tells him to stay there, where it's safe and there's cake, and describes the bad things he might encounter. Until he tells her he will go with or without her help

Honestly this is a Kabru we don't see often, this is the version of him that is usually in thought bubbles, he's blowing out in frustation over being smothered and demanding straight up what he wants, instead of trying to manipulate Milsiril, very blunt for him. Milsiril seems to flip a switch into battle mode, when she decides to train him for real.

I really thought this was funny, the visual of these cuddly toys and this Mom that was being so soft just a second ago completely flipping into something menacing is very amusing to me. She says "I'll give you an exhaustive, thorough training in how to use a sword... until you finally decide that you're ready to give up." although it sounds cruel, it seems she really trained him as best she could to make sure he would survive the dungeon. If he couldn't take the training with her there was no way he would be able to take on the dungeon, but he could, so much so that he managed to make her let him go. I can see this being seen as her trying to prevent him from going but to me it seems more like some tough love from a traumatized war veteran in this case.

The last thoughts he has is admitting his Mom was right, "Not only were there plenty of traps, monsters, and malice... but there were times when I felt so hungry and cold that I couldn't stand it."

And he concludes with "I never once thought that I wanted to go back there. That room where I could eat all the cake that I wanted..." While I can understand the interpretation that he means he would rather go thru all this than go back, perhaps cause he hated it there, I think it's rather a statement to how committed he is to defeating the dungeon, the visuals show him in rubble vs him in a soft big bed, the rough reality he fought to be able to face and the comfyness of what his life could be. Plus is mirroring exactly what Milsiril said to him. Admitting she was right about the bad things but that he won't give up for the safe easy life he had.

After that visuals of Milsiril are used while Kabru tries to sus out Mithrun but she shows up again in Mithrun's backstory.

Here she's straight up called Gloomy, which wasn't really the version of her we saw so far, gotta remember this is also how Mithrun saw her and that she was called gloomy as a way of bullying. Kabru mostly cuts off her part in the story until the end, when she's the one to find Mithrun after he was eaten by the demon

She doesn't really care much for Mithrun as we see in some extras, and she was ready to mercy kill him, but she is also the one to spare his life. This could be seen as her thinking he can still be of use, and it's how it sounds with how Kabru tells the story, but I do think this was also a merciful act, Mithrun was in rehabilitation for 20 years after being saved, by the time he was actually useful for anything Milsiril had already left the canaries and adopted Kabru.

Now for extras... About Mithrun/The Canaries, Milsiril was cleary someone that hated the people around her. This is her extra in the Adventurer's Bible

Milsiril seems to be the type that hates "popular kids" so to say, her description says she was bullied by other elves for being so introverted so I believe she holds a grudge against people like Mithrun that seem to have succeeded where she failed. But realizing he was a twisted person like her seemed to make her feel more sympathetic towards him, that's why I think she really did act with mercy when she saves Mithrun, he's now someone she sees as similar to her, she sees he also suffered like her

Her decription also mentions she left the canaries specifically because she was disgusted with how the Utaya situation was dealt with. Yet it seems like she came back to help Mithrun with his rehabilitation once she quits.

There's an interpretation to be made that she did this only to get "revenge" on the demon since she just saw the destruction of Utaya, and that she's using him. On the other hand maybe she wants to help him find a motivation to live, she's no longer a canary and she has time to actually help him now. I don't know which one is the truth but it's not obviously something self-serving if you ask me. Especially in the context that right before this scene Milsiril admits she wishes they could have talked before.

My interpretation of her relationship with the canaries and other elves is that she's someone depressed that was mistreat for her 'quirky' side, the dolls are clearly one of the ways she used to cope with anxiety/depression but it only caused her to be bullied by her own kin, she's the daughter of an important family and it's shown in other extras, including one about Mithrun, that nobles often send out the kids they don't want around to become canaries. It's an easy way to get rid of someone undesirable and I think it was the case for Milsiril. (Pattadol even assumes her parents love her less than her sisters for sending her to join the canaries).

No wonder than that now that she's finally free from the canaries she chose to seek her own happiness away from the society she felt she could never fit into, she clearly likes to take care of children too, I think it's mean to assume she only likes them because she feels superior to them when there's no indication that this is the case.

And I don't think it's a coincidence she's so overprotective of Kabru after Utaya, it's literally the tragedy that was the breaking point for her, and he's a surviving small child from that tragedy, Milsiril cares about Kabru and wanted him to have a comfortable safe life after everything he went thru...

This ended up getting way too long so I'll make second part tomorrow about the rest of the extras and Kabru, and some other things I've seen said about Milsiril, but to answer the questions...

I don't think she treats her children as pets, Otta is just salty she was called out for dating like Leo Dicaprio.

Every single dungeon meshi character can be called morally grey because they all have flaws that in our world can be considered unforgivable, but they don't live in our world. To me Milsiril is doing her best in the context she lives in.

Who even is neurotypical in dungeon meshi, Milsiril is yet another flavour of a neurodivergent traumatized character among so many.

I believe she thought of the other canaries, especially Mithrun, as the same type of people that were cruel to her, probably because some of them really were, but that she generalized it to the point she thinks of all of them as bad by default. You can only get hurt so many times before you assume everyone will hurt you.

Part 2

[evavertun]

There was no shaming involved. Just an explanation you could've come to if you thought (or hell even googled) for a millisecond before you posted.

Colonial history isn’t European history. It is global history. There is no country on this earth that hasn't been affected by it in a major way. It is your history.

You were the one who went out of your way to ask how tf you could possibly work with a Black character who had a Scottish surname. We are telling you that (a) this is in no way uncommon and (b) in the marauders era specifically (since that's the context in which this fanon came about!!) it was even more common than it is now as most Black Brits were of Carribean descent during the 1970s and (c) you don't even need to know the particulars because this remains true of colonised people around the world to this day??? wherever you are??? this is common knowledge I fear!!!

Its not the fanfic we have issue with. You're welcome to write Mary any way you wish. Trust and believe, nobody cares.

It's your argument that it doesn't make sense for her to be a certain race because she has a Scottish surname that was astoundingly ignorant.

People of Non-european races still having European surnames remains one of the most basic lingering effects of colonisation around the WORLD. You don't need to be European to figure this one out.

In fact, you're probably even more likely to know this if you're not!!!

You don't even need to know much about the deeper issues of colonialism. This is fairly surface level. Plenty of twelve year olds know this.

Hence why I asked you to think critically. For just for a moment.

I'm genuinely curious why as a fandom we decided that Mary is black.

Her surname is McDonald, how tf can I work with a black character named MCDONALD???

Now I have to make her mixed and not fully Ethiopian, and all of this is because of whoever though it's a smart move.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:02」 — s.mingi

» ateez menu | mingi menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ werehyena!Mingi × fem!reader wc: 4k summary: Y/N hasn’t been intimate with her boyfriend but not by choice. Every time she tries, he always ends up pushing her away and its starting to affect her confidence. After an argument, Mingi finally blurts out just why he's been pushing her away this whole time. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food consumption, insecurities, past trauma, breakups; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! taglist for kinktober is CLOSED. Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i promise the next thing i write for Mingi will make him dom. I already promised @yoonguurt and i will keep that promise but here is some sub mingi for the sub mingi enthusiasts lol also, if anyone is curious, i'm using STRIPED HYENAS as a reference for his werecreatures. NOT SPOTTED. Spotted hyenas are fucking insane to learn about. seriously, if you're curious, look up spotted hyena reproduction. it's literally unreal. anyway, the next part is for Chris' birthday and includes our fave aussies from stray kids! notice how i said aussies 😉 stay tuned for that and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), facesitting (m receiving), mommy kink, oral (f receiving), handjob (m receiving), sub!Mingi, dom!Reader, use of pet names (hers: mommy, ma’am; his: baby boy, sweetheart, etc), and I think that’s all but let me know if I missed any. kinks: facesitting + mommy kinkdialogue prompt: ❛❛ Sit on my face. ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

When you first met Mingi, you were intimidated by his presence, taking him as a very imposing and menacing but once you got to know him, you discovered it was merely in his looks alone. Standing at 6’1 with broad shoulders, he was a physically imposing man.

Adding to that aura of dominance was the fact that he wasn’t entirely human. You learned early on that Mingi was a werecreature. Specifically of the hyena variety. It was something you were new to, having never met another werecreature before him.

When things shifted in your relationship with him from platonic to romantic, Mingi was quick to let you know everything he felt was important about his condition. When he transformed, when his heat was, and what he usually did during his transformation and how long it lasted.

When his first transformation since making your relationship official happened, you had seen him the day before, making him a variety of meals for afterwards as you knew he would be too tired and weak to do it himself. His first cycle passed by without issue and soon it became part of your monthly routine to go over the day before, check on him, make him a week’s worth of meals and kiss him goodbye until you saw him a couple days later.

For almost a year, this was the norm for you. Something that had also unintentionally become the norm was not being intimate with Mingi. At all. Sure you’d kissed and even made out but as things got heated, Mingi always managed to push you away, trying to change the course of the evening or even leaving before you got a word in.

You’d never gone beyond a few lingering touches and it was slowly chipping away at your confidence and self esteem. It made you feel unwanted and unattractive despite being the center of male attention when you went out with your friends to the clubs once a month.

You didn’t want the attention of some random guy at the bar trying to buy you enough drinks to forget your own name and end up in bed with him only to regret it the following morning.

You wanted the attention of your boyfriend.

You’d tried speaking to Mingi about this, expressing your concerns but each time he managed to change the subject, steering it in an entirely different direction and avoiding the conversation altogether.

You didn’t expect sex from him. Of course he could have very specific reasons for not wanting to have sex with you but it was the fact he wouldn’t discuss it with you. All you wanted was a reason, something as simple as he wasn’t ready and you would drop it but you didn’t even get that.

And so, after being rejected all day on one of your rare days off, you wanted to find out why your boyfriend didn’t want to have sex with you.

You let out a sigh, keeping your eyes on the TV as you sat on the couch with Mingi sitting a cushion’s distance away, his massive frame taking up the opposite side of the couch from you. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way his eyes were wandering your body, focusing on the exposed skin of your thighs.

He often would look but never touch. You wanted so desperately for him to touch you in more ways than guiding you out of his way when he was trying to pass you or cupping the back of your head so he could kiss your forehead. You want his hands everywhere.

You heard Mingi clear his throat and you quickly focused your gaze back on the TV. You had no idea what was playing, having lost interest in it a long time ago as you were too busy fantasizing about your massive boyfriend’s hands all over you.

“I’m gonna grab a drink. You want one?” he asked as he got up from the couch, towering over you. “Sure,” you said softly as he nodded and moved around the couch to the kitchen behind where you sat. You heard the fridge open and close and a few moments later, he returned with two cold cans of cola, handing one to you and sitting back down.

“You don’t have to sit all the way over there,” you said as you cracked open your can and took a sip. Mingi turned to look at you wide-eyed. “Oh, uh I’m okay over here,” he said nervously. You set your can down, settling back against the couch, disappointment settling in your chest. “Fine,” you muttered, picking up the remote and changing the channel.

Mingi turned to look at you, taking in your profile as you flipped through channels until you exasperatedly tossed the remote onto the couch between you. “You pick something,” you snapped, not looking at him. Your tone made him recoil internally, wondering why you were upset.

He picked up the remote and flipped through the stations until he found something to put it on. He set the remote on the coffee table as an uncomfortable silence fell over the two of you. He could tell you were thinking hard, something bothering you but you were working out a way to bring it up.

Mingi hated this. He hated fighting with you. He hated the silent treatment. He hated denying you. Earlier, when he’d arrived and sat on the couch, you had joined him while dinner was finishing cooking in the oven. What started as a few kisses turned into more as you straddled his lap, kissing him deeply as you started to grind against him. 

Mingi wanted more than anything to let you have him right there on the couch but he was reminded of his past experiences. His previous partners who became weirded out upon learning that a man so strong and physically large was so submissive. He’d never been one to be a leader or in charge of anything and that extended to his preferences in the bedroom.

His relationships in the past failed because of his inability to take charge in not only the bedroom but in the relationship as well. He wasn’t comfortable with it but he really, really liked you, possibly even loved you, and he didn’t want to mess this up. He’d forced himself to take charge in some scenarios but he felt so out of his depth. 

And when it came to intimacy with you, he wanted more than anything to be intimate, to give into his more carnal desires but his past trauma held him back and he ended up pushing you away just like earlier. He’d quickly pushed you off him before things go get too far and luckily for him the timer on the oven went off and he was saved for a little while longer.

He knew it was no way to conduct things and that he should have a serious conversation but he just never seemed to be ready because he felt that things would end if he was honest with you. He was trying to prolong the inevitable.

“Do you not like me or something?”

Your question caught him off guard as your words hung in the air, waiting for his response. He turned to look at you, taking in your profile as you sat there, arms crossed over your chest, one leg tucked under you. “What?” he asked stupidly. He shouldn’t have done that. He should have immediately refuted your claim but he was just so taken aback.

“Do you not like me?” you asked again, turning to look at him. Mingi hesitated. Of course he liked you. He loved you. His brows knitted together in confusion. “Of course I like you,” he replied, turning in his seat to look directly at you. “Then why do you always do this?” you asked.

“Do what?” Mingi asked, knowing it was the wrong thing to ask. He knew what you were talking about. Your eyes narrowed. “Always push me away when we start to get intimate.” Mingi felt his stomach sink, the same feelings of anxiety and dread that he always got when this topic came up, rising into his chest.

It was starting to get hot in the apartment. He needed fresh air.

“I need some air,” he said getting up.

“No,” you said, getting to your feet and following your boyfriend. “We’re not doing this again!”

Mingi sighed as he stopped abruptly, making you run into him before he turned. “I can’t have this conversation with you, really,” he said. “Why?” you asked, feeling a pang in your chest when he turned and started for the door. Panic rose up inside of you as you watched him grab his keys from the counter as he passed it. You don’t know what came over you but you weren’t about to let this go.

“Song Mingi, if you walk out that door, we are through!!”

He froze, hand on the doorknob as your voice rang through the apartment. His shoulders visibly relaxed before he turned to look at you, a look of shock on his face. “You’d break up with me over this?” he asked softly. You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know what you expect me to do!” you all but shouted at him.

“I’m trying to have a mature conversation with you but all you’ve done is shut me down. I just want to know why you don’t want me!” you said, the corners of your eyes burning as you fought back tears. “I… don’t want you?” Mingi asked, sounding confused. “When have I ever said I didn’t want you?” he asked, walking back into the living room.

“You didn’t have to say it!” you countered. “Every time we’re intimate, you always push me away before it gets too far. I could understand if you would explain to me that you aren’t ready or it was something else but you won’t even entertain a conversation about it with me!” You blinked away the tears and turned away from him, not wanting to let him see you cry.

“What else am I supposed to think?”

Silence fell over the two of you, punctuated only by the sound of the TV, forgotten in the midst of your argument. Maybe it was better to just let him go, let this all go. Maybe you’d be better off. You loved Mingi, you really did, but you never signed on for all of this. You knew getting involved with him was going to be a learning experience after he revealed his nature as a werecreature but to you, that was nothing.

The silence was broken by the sound of Mingi’s keys being set on the counter and the floor creaking as he walked towards where you stood. You felt his arms wrap around you, warmth from his body enveloping you as he rested his head on yours. “It’s not because I don’t want you,” he murmured, finally speaking.

“I want you so bad I can barely stand it,” he added. “I just don’t want to scare you off.” You turned in his arms to face him. “How would it scare me off?” you asked, looking at him with a confused expression, brows knitting together. “Because,” Mingi started, his voice faltering. “It’s embarrassing,” he continued. “You thought I would judge you?” you asked. Mingi shrugged.

“It’s happened in the past. The people I’ve dated didn’t want…” he trailed off. “Didn’t want what?” you asked, trying to coax it out of him. He sighed, throwing his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Someone like me,” he blurted out. You reached up, cupping the back of his neck and forcing him to look down at you. “What does that mean? Someone like you?”

“I’m not very… confident,” he started. You snorted. “Now that’s a damn lie,” you retorted. “You’re the most confident man I know,” you added. Mingi shook his head. “Confident is the wrong word,” he admitted. “I’m not… I don’t like to be… in charge.”

Realization dawned on you and you let out a sigh. “You’re not dominant,” you stated. Mingi nodded, shutting his eyes and bracing for what you assumed was some sort of angry response. It nearly broke your heart that he felt he had to lie and hide this from you because of the reactions of his past relationships. You could understand his hesitation. But you weren’t like his previous partners.

“Mingi,” you started, grabbing the front of his shirt when he tried to turn away. “Yah,” you said sternly. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you!” the tone in your voice must have surprised him. You’d never sounded so commanding before. At least not to him. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered quickly.

“I wish you had just told me, instead of hiding it from me,” you explained, cupping his cheek. “If you had told me, we could have solved this a lot sooner instead of tiptoeing around it.” Mingi leaned into your touch. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I thought that if I told you, it might make you leave me.”

You pulled him into a kiss. “I almost broke up with you because I thought you weren’t attracted to me,” you said softly. “This is why we need to communicate,” you continued. “I’m not like your previous partners, you know this.” Mingi nodded, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I know,” he murmured. “And I never should have compared you to them. I was just…”

“Scared,” you said. “I get it. It can be hard to break that cycle of trauma.”

“It’s not weird though,” you continued, taking his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. “I don’t mind taking control,” you added, smiling at him as you pushed the door open with your back. “How about you lay down and let me take care of you. How does that sound, baby?”

Mingi nodded wordlessly as you guided him over to the bed, turning so you could push him down onto it. He landed on his butt with a soft oof as you moved to shut the door and returned to him. “Let me take care of you,” you repeated, slowly kneeling in front of him, hand sliding down his chest to the waistband of his sweats.

You slipped your fingers under the elastic pulling it forward slightly before letting it snap back against his stomach, making him gasp. You chuckled softly as you grabbed the sides of the waistband and started tugging. He lifted his hips, letting you pull the material all the way down his thighs and to the floor where it pooled around his ankles. He sat in his underwear, waiting for your next move.

You could see he was starting to grow hard but you knew Mingi’s body, even if you hadn’t seen it fully. You knew that your boyfriend had a massive cock and from what you could see now, half hard, you were correct in your assumptions. You pressed your hand over the bulge in his boxers, making him his, a shudder run up his spine as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Does that feel good?” you asked, stroking him slowly, watching his expressions. “Y-yes,” he whined, hips starting to roll up into your touch. You could feel him growing harder and harder by the minute and decided to take it a step further. You slipped your hand into his underwear, pulling his cock free from the material. Wrapping your fingers around the base, you started to slowly pump your hand up and down.

“Fuck,” your boyfriend hissed. “Feels so good, babe.”

You let go, spitting into your hand and resumed stroking him, your saliva working as a lubricant and moving faster with ease. He was almost completely hard by this point. “Babe, please,” Mingi whined. “What is it?” you asked softly, your speed never faltering as you looked up at your boyfriend. “I wanna be inside you,” he whined, hips bucking.

You clicked your tongue as you slowed your hand for a moment. “No, baby,” you answered. Mingi whined again, shaking under your touch. “Please, mommy,” he gasped and you felt your cheeks burn. That was a new one. You’d never been called that before but you weren’t about to comment on it. Not when you wanted to focus on making Mingi feel good. You could discuss it later.

“Sorry baby,” you said softly. “Only good boys get their dicks wet.” Mingi whined, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “It’s literally wet right now,” he countered but you shushed him, stroking him faster and making him remove his shirt. He did as you asked, tossing the tee to the floor. 

“Please, baby. I’ll be good, I promise,” Mingi begged. It was tempting to give into him but why the rush? “Not tonight, baby boy,” you cooed. “Maybe in the morning.” You continued to stroke him, his hips bucking up to meet your movements as you drew him closer to his high.

You felt his cock throb and twitch in your hand and you knew he was close. “Just a little more,” you cooed. “Be a good boy and cum.”

As if on command, Mingi let out a moan and you angled his cock away from you, watching as thin ropes of his milky white cum shot out of him, landing on his toned stomach, contrasting with his tanned skin. You continued to pump him slowly, making sure to squeeze every last drop out of him.

“What a good boy you are,” you said sweetly as you got to your feet, ignoring the gusset of your panties sticking to you as you climbed onto the bed. “I bet that felt really good, didn’t it?” you asked, to which he nodded. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said, starting to get up but his grip on you was strong. He muttered something that you couldn’t make out.

You leaned over to hear him better. “What was that, baby?” you asked. “You need to speak up.”

“I said,” Mingi started, licking his lips. “Sit on my face.” You let out a chuckle. “It’s okay, baby,” you said softly, caressing his cheek. “You don’t need to do anything. We can clean up and go again tomorrow if you really want to.” Mingi shook his head. “No,” he said, grabbing your wrist, moving to lace his fingers with yours. “Please, Y/N,” he whined. “P-please, mommy. I want you to sit on my face!”

You stared at him, nibbling on your bottom lip for a moment before you relented. “Fine,” you said. “But no cleaning or wiping your mess away until I cum, do you understand me?” you asked, leaning over to look into his eyes. He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

You got off the bed, tugging your shorts and underwear down and letting them fall to the floor, stepping out of them and then returning to Mingi on the bed. He waited eagerly as you straddled his chest. “Before we do this. You have to tell me if you can’t breathe. Tap my thigh three times if you need air,” you instructed. Mingi shook his head. “I don’t need air,” he replied. “I just need your pussy on my tongue, right now.”

You reached behind you, grabbing his sensitive, soft cock. He let out a whimper before nodding. “Yes mommy,” he said quickly. You let go and scooted forward until your knees were on either side of his head. Mingi’s hand moved up to cup your ass. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Just sit down.”

You lowered yourself onto his waiting tongue and let out a moan as he immediately wrapped his lips around your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue, the room filling with lew slurping sounds. You reached down, combing your fingers through his hair gently. You felt him flatten his tongue against your clit, licking up and down slowly before he started to circle the nub with the tip. 

You let out a moan, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to make out with your sex, ignoring the wetness that seeped from you onto his lips and chin. He could careless and lapped away at your core, fingers digging into the plush of your ass, pulling you down and close as possible.

His tongue traced down to your hole, teasing the entrance before he pulled you flush against him, his tongue wiggling into your pussy. You let out a gasp, feeling his nose bump against your clit as he tasted everything you had to give him. His tongue slipped out and was back on your clit, flicking against it in quick succession, each flick making your body jerk violently as he built you up to your climax.

Your fingers in his hair tightened as your hips started to move involuntarily. Mingi gently pushed you up slightly. “Yes, ride my tongue,” he murmured, slurring his words before pulling you back down on his flat tongue, letting you grind against him. You let go of his hair, leaning over to place your hands against the mattress as you started to roll your hips, grinding your clit against his tongue.

Your body shook, thighs squeezing his head as your orgasm washed over you, a wave of euphoria spreading throughout your body as you continued to ride out your high. Finally, you shuddered, feeling the effects of your exertion in the burning of your thighs but also in the sensitive bundle of nerves your boyfriend was still licking slowly.

You finally pulled away, lifting off his face and swinging your leg over to kneel beside him. The lower half of his face was coated in your release, shining in the low light of your bedroom.

“You are a mess,” you said with a chuckle before getting up and heading into your ensuite bathroom to grab a clean washcloth, wetting it with warm water and returning to the bed. Mingi held out his hand but you pushed it away and started wiping his face clean before wiping down his stomach, cleaning it of his release. 

Once you were satisfied he was no longer sticky, you tossed the towel into the hamper as Mingi’s arms circled your waist, pulling you onto his naked lap and smiling up at you with a very tired and lazy smile. You felt his cock prod at your thigh and you chuckled, running your fingers through his hair before kissing him. “You’re hard again,” you noted between kisses.

“Mmm,” he hummed in answer. “I could go again,” he offered. “But I’m also very tired.” You nodded. “My thighs are burning,” you admitted. “How about we rest and then maybe later we can go again. Maybe I’ll even let you fuck me,” you said, pulling him into a slow, languid kiss that was messy and nothing but tongue. “Have I been a good boy?” he asked, perking up slightly, making you laugh.

“Yes,” you answered. “You’ve been a very good boy,” you added. Mingi pulled you into a kiss, grabbing your hips and pushing you down so his cock pressed against your clit. “I could go right now,” he said eagerly. “You won’t even have to do anything,” he added. You cupped his cheek, pressing a kiss to his lips. “If you promise I won’t have to lift a finger,” you said.

Mingi nodded excitedly. “I promise!” he said eagerly. You nodded, nose bumping against his. “Alright,” you replied, kissing him and pulling back, resisting the urge to laugh when he pouted, trying to chase your lips. “Show me what you can do, big boy.”

Keeping his hold on you, Mingi shifted from sitting to his knees and laid you back against the pillows before removing your top, dropping it to the floor and cupping your chest over your bralette. He kissed down your chest, pushing your bralette up and taking one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before kissing down your stomach, moving your legs over his shoulders as he drew level with your cunt. 

“Will you let me fuck you without a condom?” he asked suddenly. You reached down, brushing his hair back. “One step at a time,” you said. “Make me cum with your mouth and then we’ll discuss condoms afterwards. Sound good?” you asked. Mingi nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

You nodded, leaning back against the pillows. “Don’t worry about rushing,” you reminded him.

“We have all night.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[hoseoksluna]

LADY BEETLE | knj

pairing: non-idol!namjoon x oc

genre: situationship au ; sex playhouse ; glory hole  / smut, fluff

word count: 10.4k

summary: when you came to seoul's hidden sex playhouse to forget about namjoon, you didn't think the anonymous mr. kim would actually be namjoon.  

pin: lady beetle / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: sex club setting, oc struggles with her feelings towards namjoon, glory hole but with hoseoksluna twist, engaging in sexual practices with a person you don't know, commitment issues, heated conversations, dirty talk, patience game, counting down (for my neva play girlies), oral sex (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat, face fucking, nipple play, unprotected and rough sex, teacher namjoon, spanking, praise kink, size kink, choking on fingers, rough treatment in general, aftercare, oc and namjoonie smoke together.

note: i daresay this is my best work. :D fuck my life, guys. i need this namjoon like i need air to breathe. if i see any of you wearing panties... TAKE EM OFF NOW. sldjflskdjfsl jk, jk. THE SUPRISE IS REVEALED. GLORY FAWKING HOLE. my babies, enjoy this filth. stream neva play. imagine that deep voice of his.... yeah. yeah....... faaawwkwkjsdlfjsdlfjsdfjslfjsls. ENJOYYYYY. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. MY ASK BOX IS OPEENNNNNNN.

The building looked ordinary from the outside view. Like any other building in this part of the city. Long and tall, coalescing with the evening heavens and with its freckles of stars—very much like those upon your skin. McDonald’s was just down the road, a to-go coffee stand perfumed the whole street with its coffee beans, and a bookstore stood right next to this peculiar piece of urban architecture, unaware of all the sins that lurked behind its walls. 

It may pretend to be pure, with its grand hall, its sophisticated reception and even graceful employees—dressed in the finest of fabrics that glinted beneath the opulent chandelier—but it was just that. 

An act. 

They smiled at you, but in their heart they knew what you were here for. 

In this seemingly normal, ordinary building all your sexual fantasies flare out. In the simplest of words, you come here to get fucked out of the norm that is considered vanilla. You fill out an online application, set the date, the time—and depending on your desire, you even get to see who your dream fulfiller is. 

In your case, you were going into this blind. 

And so was he, your dream fulfiller. 

While you opted to stay anonymous, the only detail you knew about the man was that he was from the cursed Kim clan. Another male that bore the last name like the one who wrecked your nerves to the point that you had to bite the bullet and try this out as nothing else was working. It was a newfound obsession of your best friend, who gifted you a voucher to this place on your birthday. And you weren’t sure if Kim Namjoon had the sixth sense and somehow knew about this, although you’d believe he was very much capable of possessing one, just to piss you off even more. 

You have been crushing on this man since the day you met him at your mom’s small ramyeon restaurant you are working in for her. Since the moment, in fact, you glimpsed at his vintage black Cartier watch with a matching singular bracelet adorning his wrist that he kept calmly on the table while he was on a work call, growling and snapping into the phone. Your mom curled her lips, swatted her eyelashes as she grew hot in the cheeks, chopping green onions for him from her cooking station while you were watching over the noodles. It was her who noticed him at first—and it was her who told you to do your best and seduce him. 

And when you lifted your eyes, saw that thick mane of his cloudy hair, the cleft of his cheek as he gritted his jaw and then that picturesque hand of his, you sensed that unfamiliar, magnetic pull towards him that made you blush. And you never looked more like her than in that moment. 

For some reason you knew better than to not listen to her and do as she says. You felt it was the right decision, the right move and so you fixed your hair, swiped your flower clip through a half of it while your face-framing wisps fell naturally in front of your pink face. Your mom tossed you her lip gloss from the pocket of her apron and you brought him the ramyon she cooked for him. 

Smiled at him. Batted your eyelashes at him like your mother taught you throughout your girlhood and it worked. 

Namjoon told you were a breath of fresh air when you sashayed towards him after such an important, yet aggravating phone call, apologized for the inconvenience, bowed slightly. Balanced, most delightfully, respect and flirting. Leaned more towards the latter when he would steal glances at you and smile at you at every opportunity that your gaze would connect to his. 

Your heart hammered once he came to you to pay for his meal. Your mother stopped whatever it was that she was doing just to beam at him and he personally gave her a huge tip in cash—right into her right hand that he held. Turned to you and asked you if you’d like to have dinner with him sometime. 

And you agreed—without knowing he would get on your nerves in the long run. 

Namjoon was not a serious man, not as he appeared to be. Although he showed you the side of Seoul you would otherwise never have the option to see and feel with your entire being by taking you to luxurious dinners, cafés, art exhibitions and work events—the things he would say and the things he would do did not reflect those settings by any chance. 

He took you from rags to riches and you paid for it by being a victim of his odd form of cute aggression. 

The man would get you tangled up in your sentences because he simply enjoyed the view of you getting flustered. He found pleasure in revving you up enough for you to curse at him and growl at him, be it by bugging you with tickles, pokes or be it by making fun of you until you yourself laughed. 

There was nothing sexual about your relationship, if you could call it that. He didn’t hold your hand, he didn’t regard you hungrily as so many men do in his place, but he did look at you with the rawest form of purity. At your freckles—ones that made him give you the adorable nickname Lady Beetle—at your butterfly tattoo on your ankle that your dress would always expose from its natural criss-crossed position. The things he would say did not contain any hints of this leading into the bed. And he never kissed you, even though there were many occasions, where he looked like he was about to do it. 

He always held back. And while it, and everything else, made you pristinely fall for him, it also angered you so much that there was nothing else you wanted to do but to grab his head and kiss him madly. 

And the other day, you did. 

Leaned in after the heft of your shared tension grew too big for you to hide it in your hands—only for him to turn his head, slightly, and let you merely kiss his cheek. 

That was the final straw. And so you stopped agreeing to his “date” invitations until you stopped replying to his messages altogether. You thought he wasn’t going to have any part of you if he wasn’t willing to properly date you. 

And in your anger, you dwelled in the hole he left behind. The hole that was asking for his fatherly attention that caused you so much extraordinary joy. Your mother must’ve sensed it with her motherly instincts that he would occupy that place in your life, which your father didn’t. Your body missed laughing with him until your tummy hurt—and you missed him. And the more you did, the more your anger blazed. 

You couldn’t get rid of it. 

You tried exercising. You tried running around the block, only to never do it again because you couldn’t catch your breath and you thought you had almost died that day. You smoked a pack after pack, and that didn’t help either. 

Neither did abusing your cunt until you couldn’t go on anymore. Your anger burned down your bedroom and once you groaned and whined, punched the pillows and kicked your legs, your eyes fell upon the voucher you had pinned on your corkboard  

Your remedy was in front of you, and in the worst of your anger—you gave it a go. 

You filled out that application in the middle of the night, one that made you even hornier. And because you didn’t want to see any other man but Namjoon while you were getting your brain fucked out of your head, you chose the only option there was for that case. 

Glory hole. 

And the idea of it made your anger falter ever so slightly. You could imagine it was him pounding you through the barrier. The wall would only help your imagination.

Friday. Seven PM. You had to come two hours early because it was a necessity for you to shower at the place after you signed the contract. You also had to quickly think of a safe word, it was the only thing you foolishly forgot to fill out that day, as lost as you were within your flight of fancy. And because the employee standing in front of you made you anxious, you wrote down the first thing you thought of. 

Beetle. 

Your heart pounded, and when you let go of the pen, the gravity of the moment hit you. You truly were about to swim in a pool of sin only because the man you desperately wanted didn’t want you back. At least not in the way you wanted him to. 

The employee led you into the room, where your own personal sin would uncoil. A grandiose, large space, plucked out of a French chateau, with dark antique furniture, an easel with a painting you were quick to skip to in order to ogle at it. Your kitten heels clicked on the old, parquet floors that creaked, scuffed against the carpet that cost more than your yearly salary. It was a room that Namjoon would like—and it was a room that took your breath away. 

And the painting paused your blood flow. 

The Unequal Marriage by Vasili Pukirev.  

A painting of you, essentially, because you can’t have the man you yearn for. 

Your heart shrinks, painful pinpricks digging deeply into the flesh. You lift a finger and trace the despondent face of the bride, acknowledge yourself with that secret, yet vivid piece of your agony eternalized within the thickness of the brushstrokes. Her silver flower crown, the gossamer fabric of her veil, and finally her delicate hand. And in your soul, you hold it. 

You peek at the elderly groom and disgust seizes you. Because of the poor girl’s fate, because of your own. It feels as though you’re about to sin with that very man and you regret ever coming here. 

An emotion that you hurriedly shake off because your best friend paid a huge amount of money for you to experience a good time. Like she did. 

Your hand slaps back to your side. Your emotions, too. You will them to hide their starlight just for this one night. Hide their love for the man they can’t have. 

You turn around and glimpse upon a table with bottles of both champagne and wine. Think you need one at this moment; think your dream fulfiller would appreciate it if you poured him one, too. But having one sip of that dark liquid, you say fuck it and finish his glass as well. 

Undress. Take a shower. Weep under the stream. 

And the same employee waits for you when you emerge out of the bathroom in your robe. With manicured hands folded over her stomach, her eyes have softened a little bit, and abruptly, you realize how glad you are that a woman is accompanying you on this strange journey. If a man stood in her place, you would’ve already walked out and wasted your best friend’s money. 

“Mr. Kim wishes for you to be naked,” she says, her voice light, but firm. Your skin prickles with goosebumps—you bought a lacy red lingerie for the occasion, to help your imagination do its job to the fullest. A certain wisp of sadness clutches you that you won’t be able to wear it. 

Or… 

“What happens if I disobey?” you ask, gripping the thick lining of your bathrobe at your chest for mental support. The seriousness of the situation inches nearer and nearer and your stomach knots. 

She inhales, straightening up, as if she was about to leave this room. “Mr. Kim is not a regular, so I don’t know anything about this temper, but I would suggest respecting his wishes.” 

And she does, making space for your thoughts to whirl, and your eyes trace the flowers on the red Persian rug underneath your slipper-shod feet. 

He’s not a regular, so that means he’s not anything like the disgusting groom in the painting. He may be an ordinary person just like you, trying your luck in an unusual setting. Perhaps young, perhaps older—but normal. Not a lecher about to feast on your purity. 

Your stomach relaxes as do your muscles and you walk over to the bed to grab your make-up bag. Set yourself into the doll version of you that enjoys a male company with your eyeliner and glitter. Finish the process with a red tendril of lipstick over your mouth—just to leave behind a pleasant trace if the man ever decides to up the fun a little bit. 

Will it be fun? Or will you regret every second? 

An unanswerable question for your doll brain. You shake it off. Sit down at the edge of the bed and wait. 

Wait for him to fuck not just your anger, but your feelings out of your body. 

The woman emerges out of the bright light of the hall as if she was a housekeeper coming in to clean the hotel room. To a naked eye, it is not far from reality. This time, her softness has deepened so much that she bears a smile on her face. One, that you’re unsure of what it means. And one that relaxes your system to its finality. 

She raises a hand towards the double doors, in the direction of the easel with the painting, and nods, her smile unwavering. 

“You may proceed, miss, through this door. You can take off your robe now and get on the bed through the back of the cubicle. Mr. Kim will join you in five minutes.” 

Your breath shivers as you exhale. You thank her and she clicks the door shut behind her. Scurrying onto your feet, you gather as much bravery as you can. Your bathrobe plops down onto the bed. You give one last look to the unhappy bride in the painting before you open the door. 

You sense her encouraging you to go on—to live a life full of emancipation that she never got to grasp with her fist. And that, you find, is your bravery. 

The dimmed room, in size, mirrors the one you just walked out of. And it stares at you head-on. 

The cubicle the employee spoke of faces you to the right. A black-painted wooden little structure  with a hole in the middle, covered in leather that is cut into long fringes. The lower half of your body will stick out of it and you reckon it depends on Mr. Kim himself what he does with your legs—whether he pins them up using the restrains on the wood or if he holds them. 

The unknown lengthens and for the first time during this night, a small ribbon of excitement begins to swathe your chest. 

Next to the cubicle, in the far corner of the room, is a dresser. You believe the drawers are filled with toys, but the top is lined with dark bottles of alcohol that you recognize. European—Jack Daniel’s, Jim Beam. Suits the play house’s style, you guess. 

And on the left, a monumental bed that takes up the rest of the room. And it’s hung up from the ceiling.

You don’t have time to ogle it as time ticks, but while you run to the back of the cubicle like you were advised, you do notice that there are no paintings embellishing the walls. No person from the old age of time to witness the unfolding of your so-called dream. Sinful, sinful dream. 

Maybe that was done on purpose. Maybe you’re supposed to live this dream with the anonymous Mr. Kim in some way. 

The mattress inside the cubicle is made out of leather, but it is the strong scent of fresh wood that hits your nostrils. It is decorated with twinkle lights all around, giving it a comforting feel. One pair of restraints is installed into the walls as well, but you think it’s more for leverage than for the wishes of the dream fulfiller. Milky and silken, they stand out from the dark tones of it all, and you gaze at them for some kind of comfort as you strengthen your legs through the hole, the cold tassels drifting along your bare body sending sparks of strange delight up your stomach. You bite your lip at the sensation, scooching up to an awkward, almost sitting position so your legs don’t dangle out, but the backs of your knees press against the edge of the mat. 

You cross your ankles. 

And you wait, all over again. 

Wonder if you should touch yourself or if you should give the honors to Mr. Kim to make you ready for him, but the tassels, the sight of your hip bone tattoo that says angel… your nipples perk up on their own and maybe you’ve come to like the act of waiting for him. Or maybe you like the view of your nakedness at a peculiar place such as this. Of your angelic form bare and about to be taken back to heaven. 

Your stomach swarms with anxious morsels at that thought and you take a deep breath. At your exhale, you hear the door creak open and close with a certain tenderness that you immediately know it was used in order not to startle you. 

One point up for Mr. Kim. 

Maybe the Kim clan has good manners and thoughtfulness engraved in their DNA, but they’re men and disappointment always awaits you eventually—

His footsteps lead towards you, carrying that same tenderness. The sound of the muted thuds grow more and more distinct, no ounce of hurriedness lodged in them. A small fire begins to burn in you due to his evident patience, awakening your body, and you’re so, so surprised to detect such gentle arousal just from the energy he’s brought in. 

That, alone, causes you to curl in your coyness, but when you hear him huff out a gentle laughter, you instinctively squeeze your thighs first before you bury your face in your hands, your cheeks hot to the touch. 

Why is he laughing—

He places a large, warm palm on your knee. You flinch and his touch becomes heavier as if he was telling you not to be scared, its warmth begins to descend down your shin—and then lips. His breath wafts over your skin and he presses his lips against it as a way of greeting. 

It is the rule of this sexual practice—no speaking between the partners. And now that it’s unfolding in action, you find yourself absolutely enthralled by it.

You flutter all over, the apex of your inner thighs slick with the liquid expression of your arousal. Your heart pounds, touched by that unusual but kind gesture, and you’re curious for more. 

He rubs the place he kissed with his thumb and then… coldness. He must have withdrawn, straightened his posture, and a great oddity begins to take form in you. 

Your knees tremble, sensitive from his benevolence. 

And you wonder if he’s watching his creation, taking his time as he is for the next move. You long for it, timid, unsure of what to do with your hands. You flex them and unflex them on the leather, your lower limbs gaining momentum, and you feel your wetness trickling down onto the mat. You do well to stifle the mewls gathering in your throat and you yearn for those considerate hands of his to touch you everywhere—

He yanks you forward and, remarkably, the yelp that is flung out of you is hushed, not heard by his ears. At least you hope so—you don’t want to get in trouble, turn that kindness of his around. You’d regret that, and you’d regret that very much. 

Mr. Kim spreads your legs apart, but your femininity is concealed by those suspended tassels that tease your core, your clit, and your hip bones, the most sensitive and vulnerable parts of you. A great dose of pleasure surges through you from it and from the way those fingers of his glide upon the inner of your thigh. He reaches as far as where your shiny stain is. A low, deep breath is exuded from his chest when he feels it and he smears it along your pelvic bone and a little bit on one of your folds. 

He heightens your tremor by doing that. 

You feel bad for reacting like that, but you can’t help it—neither can you stop it. You try to keep your body still and through the opening you can see him propping his hand on your thigh, watching you do so, as if he won’t continue until he knows you’ve regained your composure. And something about that, in its own way, helps you, and it helps you tremendously. 

With his palm flat, he caresses your flesh in a circular motion to praise you for it, lifting his hand upwards and beyond your sight. Your stomach undulates and it is now that you notice the navy blue of his dress pants, the growing tent that takes shape in the middle, and owing to the calmness and the sense of safety he’s installed within you, you do the boldest thing you’ve ever done, save for leaning in to kiss Namjoon nearly two weeks ago. 

Turned on from the sight of his arousal, you grab a hold of the tassel and you begin to provoke him, deciding that you want his manhood to grow. Because of the way he treats you, you deem he deserves it. 

You move, smooth, the leather strip along your cunt, collecting your slick. You shift your hips in circles, the fabric cool and sensual in a way you never thought it would be. Your breaths come out whiny the longer you do it and when you change the direction and move up and down, you can hear his breaths, too. And maybe the blackness of the walls are messing with your mind, but you could’ve sworn, his secret noises have become whiny just the same once you pressed the tassel against your swollen clit. 

And it isn’t until you naturally feel the back of his leg with the ball of your foot that he lets you see how much your little show advanced his arousal. The print of is cock is prominent, thick in the tightness of his pants, and you want it. 

You no longer want Namjoon’s. You want his. 

The plan worked. 

And with a smile of a winner gracing your features, to celebrate you start to make yourself feel delightful. You rub your clit, still with the strip, biting your lips in order to suppress your moans, the pleasure more vivacious this time around. He’s not palming himself, he’s not doing anything at all but watching you, his hands by his sides, and perhaps to reward him—you let go of the tassel. 

You let him see your pussy. 

Shiny, swollen and needy, asking for a man you haven’t seen and won’t even see. 

How sinful, how titillating. You can’t wait to have a cigarette after this. 

His cock twitches and it beguiles you, the way your hand, without your conscious knowing, extends out and reaches for it through the hole. Your femininity, your sexuality—brazen and alive, unafraid and illimitably splendid. 

And in this situation, it is a thing of absolute sublimity, the act of him inching forward and letting you touch him, feel your own creation the way he felt his. You want his number, you want to make him come. You want him to take you out and you want to show it off on your Instagram story, hiding everyone else from seeing it except for Namjoon. A devilish laughter pricks at your throat, desperate to be heard. You sense how heavy his cock must be, how strong, how hard. It’s impossible for you to suck it as he’s not allowed to see your face, but you know the idea of it will haunt your daydreams—

He grasps a hold of your wrist, silencing your thoughts, and you hold your breath. He slides his grip down to your hand and he makes you squeeze him, his length, his balls. Your hole clenches, even your features scrunch up in need, and with your other hand you begin to help yourself, but he stops you. 

Pins your hands down on the leather. Maneuvers to firmly grapple both of your wrists on top of your tummy and uses his free hand to push you forward a little bit. Your legs dangle out, uncomfortably, and he’s so attuned to you that he notices. Leads your leg to wrap around him, the other one two, and if it weren’t for the mattress jutting out, you and him would be flush to each other. 

Body to body. 

He sucks in a breath at the first contact of his thumb and your clit. He must feel how swollen it is and he dips down to your hole, circling it there, gathering your arousal before he returns to that needy flesh, continuing his circles there. Slow, slow circles that make you writhe on the mat, the leather creaking. You lament that he can’t attach his mouth to it, regret that you chose this option because of your foolish feelings, and despite the fact you thought your plan worked and Mr. Kim alleviated your anger, the emotion bursts within you. 

Your muscles tense, your lips flatten in a tight line, your fists in his hold clench, and you’re angry. Angry, angry, angry. Hateful of your life, hateful of your body, of your heart. And in the middle of the explosion, you make a mistake. 

You growl. 

He stops his circles. 

Time beats two times before you’re yanked out of the hole, your feet landing on the parquet floors with that familiar gentleness the man bears. 

And the man… 

The man is no other but Kim Namjoon himself. The source, the epitome of your anger. 

And you feel nothing. Your shock evens out through every fraction of your nerve endings, paralyzing you. Time ceases its beats here—while you stare up at him and he stares down at you. Namjoon isn’t seized by the shock like you are, though. He begins to laugh, darkly, hushedly, humorlessly. Slides his hands into the pockets of his pants and takes a step back. 

Embeds life into time. 

“I fucking knew it was you,” he rasps, that laughter melting into nothingness until the gravity of this situation spreads across this sinful room. Heavy, heavy energy. You should feel ashamed at this very moment, you should cover yourself up, but you don’t. You don’t do anything. “I read your safe word. I thought it was a coincidence, life making fun of me. And then, I saw your butterfly tattoo, but tattoos can lie to me and it was too good to be true. But that growl… that growl of yours can’t lie to me. I know it like I know myself.”

Your growl was your response to his never-dying teasing. If he tickled you, nudged you, bugged you, the only way you would make it stop was by letting out that vexed noise of yours—and it would work. He’d laugh to himself and withdraw his hands. 

You part your mouth, but you can’t say anything. Your shock rises in you like a tidal wave that submerges in you and you drown. 

Then, a perplexing song of a mockingbird breezing through the wind outside sounds out within the room, saying things your body is unable to. 

Namjoon blinks, taken aback by your lack of retort. No words, no growls. Merely the song crooning along the spaciousness of the atmosphere. He licks his lips. 

“Why did you stop replying to my messages?” he asks, and you find it obscene that he’s inquiring about this when you’re all bare, trembling, and with your arousal dripping down your inner thighs. If anything, he should be asking you what you’re doing here, but it’s like the fact isn’t news to him. 

And what you don’t know is that he pours life into you with his bizarreness. 

Your first reaction is to scoff. Your second is to bash your fists against his chest, pushing him a step back. And Namjoon… he smirks. As if he succeeded in his plan—pulling you out of your state of shock into a blooming garden of your emotions, where you can run, where you can scream and where you can inflict violence. 

Where you can speak. 

“Why did I stop replying to your messages?” you throw it back at him, your voice rising in volume, and Namjoon straightens, delightfully watches you be full of life. “You think you can share your life with me, take me on dates, pay for me and leave it at that? Turn your head when I try to kiss you? Do you think I’m some kind of lady companion—”

“No,” he interrupts, tilting his chin up, his dominance on full display with the deepness of his voice, the width of his shoulders and his powerful stance. You drip for him, but you’re as powerful as he is. You’re equal—equally tangled up in the same sin. “You’re my Lady Beetle, aren’t you?” 

Your breath hitches, your nipples hardening, and your wetness is so, so uncomfortable, trickling down your flesh. And he provokes the pressure of your arousal in your core by that nickname, even more so when he lifts a finger and traces the freckles upon your right shoulder, the meaning behind that term of endearment, from his distance. Even more so when he sinks his fingers into the hair on the nape of your neck, uttering his following words. 

“Get back inside the cubicle.” 

But you’re not obeying. You don’t know his temper either, but you are getting yourself into trouble. And you’re not getting fucked until you know that he reciprocates your feelings. 

And you know what to do. 

“Kiss me,” you murmur, crossing the distance, inching towards his face. Namjoon tilts his head down, his lips nearly brushing against yours, and that’s all he does, nudging your anger. “Kiss me, Namjoon, or I’m walking out of this room.” 

He lets the tension simmer, unblinking, consuming your eyes from this close proximity. And when he opens his mouth, you think he’s about to kiss you, but you’re mistaken. Deadly, deadly mistaken. 

“Did you come here to forget about me?” he whispers, inching even closer until your nipples graze against the soft material of his sweater, hums in question when you don’t answer. Lifts your chin to make you look at him when your eyes stray away, your anger bubbling in you. He perceives the real you, always has, and you don’t have to say a word. Only a person intertwined with your soul could be able to do this; why won’t he act on it? 

“Did you come here to look for me?” you whisper back, pressing your torso against him until your breasts squish against his hard chest. His still hard manhood pokes you in your tummy, harder than it was when you touched him earlier, and wrap your arms around him, your hands traveling all across the width of his back until they wander down his loins, even lower to his buttocks. 

He pants, but his voice is not affected by the whirlwind of his emotions. Delicious, delicious whirlwind.

“Yes,” he says, firmly, flattening his lips and growling when you squeeze his butt. You enjoy those selfish touches so much that your grin illuminates the room, a ball of light amidst all this darkness. Your anger watches on, stunned. “What do you think? If I wanted to move on, I wouldn’t have chosen a fucking glory hole out of all the options. I’m not like you. I don’t give up. I’m patient.” 

“Patient…” You taste those words on your tongue, dwelling on them. They’re bittersweet, and you stand in the middle of your decision whether you like them or not. “What are you waiting for?” 

He sighs, lifting his hands and digging his fingertips into your ribs, holding you to him. You mirror his movements, and you let out that strained breath of yours when he bends his head and places a singular, wet kiss onto the side of your neck. 

You had asked him to kiss you, even though you didn’t specify where, but you didn’t expect your body to tingle this much and grow boneless in his unfailing hold. You cling to him with all your might—there’s nothing left for you to do. 

You’re his. Have been his since the moment you saw his watch. 

And you can’t believe you haven’t noticed that Cartier adornment when you were ogling his manhood. 

He brushes away a wispy strand of your hand before returning it back to its rightful place. “You deserve the world and I’m not there yet to give it to you. And you’re not gonna look for it elsewhere, I’m not letting that happen. I’m gonna give it to you.” 

Honesty is here at last, the explanation to his distance. You hide the fluttering joy that opens in your chest, but you do let him see the smile that begins to curve your lips. He likes you; you can live at peace now. No more anger, no more daydreams. 

“Kim Namjoon,” you breathe out, moving your hands to his sides. “Is that a promise I hear?” 

He nods, tilting his head to the side as his pupils grow large. “Yes, that’s a promise. The last relationship I was in fucked me up, but I’m gonna get right, and I want you to hold onto that promise.” 

You hum. “What does that mean for us right now?” 

He smirks, that cheek cleft enchanting you all over again. “If you want kisses, then kisses is what you’re gonna get.” 

Your smile lengthens until your cheeks hurt, heated. “I want kisses. Lots of kisses. On different places of my body, too.” 

Namjoon retreats back to your neck, peppering kisses along that column. You whimper, hands hurrying to undo the button of his pants, desperate and arbitrary. But with a disapproving noise, Namjoon stops your hasty movements. Pins your hands behind your back.

“Patience,” he whispers, gliding his lips across the kisses he left behind. Your skin prickles with goosebumps against him, your nipples so stiffened that they ache, and, most unfortunately, you moan softly in impatience. “You’re gonna learn what true patience is, little beetle.” 

Color heats your cheeks and as you grin, you bite your bottom lip. “Be my teacher, Namjoon.” 

He chokes out a groan, dizzied by the idea, one that fades into your yelp when he unexpectedly turns you around and pushes your back against his chest, your arms long and criss-crossed behind you, hands flat against his cock. 

Something tells you this lesson will be one of great difficulty for you. And of great pleasure. 

Namjoon cups your jaw, swivels your head to face him a little. “Where do you want those kisses?” 

Your quivering breath fans out across his big hand. “On my nipples.” 

At your quick answer, he makes a sound of approval and with a feathery-light touch he sails his knuckles down the right side of your chest, from your collarbone down to the beginning of your supple breast, where he stops his voyage to study your reaction. As much as you’d die for his fingers to go a little lower, you keep your tremors in tact. Even your fingers remain obedient, relaxed in their position and not tempting his temper. You close your eyes, try your bestest to hold it while you wait it out, and your slick by now creates a pool between your feet. Namjoon’s cock twitches at your goodness and he sighs a little praise into your ear, just for you to hear. It roots deeply in your gut, where it stirs the butterflies that are painted in the color of his eyes. 

His knuckles descend lower and lower, stop at the apex of your nipple, and the nearness is enough for you to stoop in your desperation. 

Something you shouldn’t have done.

Namjoon slaps that pointy flesh, coaxing such a filthy moan out of you that it reverberates through the room. The harshness, intertwined with the swift stimulation of your nipples spreads a buzzing sensation down your body, settling in your aching clit, and the loud noise you let out echoes in small whimpers, wordless pleas for more. He becomes harder in your hands, as if he could translate them, and the temptation croons at you again, telling you to squeeze him. This time, you can’t really hold back. This time, you want him to do it again.

On the other breast. 

You squeeze him, the weight of his cock an inexplicable experience that drives you to a point of carnal madness. You slide your palms along that thick length and the way he’s quiet, unspeaking, unbreathing, puzzles you and alarms you simultaneously. 

You look behind you. Catch his features screwed up in such pleasure that you whimper again, announcing that you’ve seen him in his weakest. And Namjoon is brought back into his teacher mode. He allowed himself that fraction of time for his own pleasure, perhaps for yours, too, and you’ve never discovered something so imposing. 

Your sexuality and his, interwoven, a thing of glory more magnificent than this playhouse itself. 

“Little beetle, you’re just so naughty, aren’t you?” he rasps into your ear, pressing you against him with both of his arms wrapped around your chest, nuzzling his face into your neck. He kneads your breasts hard before he slaps them, both at the same time, and you make such a mess. “So impatient, so desperate to touch and be touched. What am I gonna do with you? Can you even learn, hm?” 

Knead. Slap. Namjoon tweaks your nipples, circles them with his fingers, filling your body with such pleasure that your knees nearly give out on you. And he holds you to him by your neck, a firm grip that conveys to you that from now on, he won’t be very nice. 

And you don’t really mind. 

“Get back inside the cubicle so I can deal with you accordingly,” he mutters his order, tracing the shell of your ear with his puffy lips before he latches onto your earlobe, sucking it into his mouth briefly, making you cry out. “Do you know what happens to girls who can’t be helped?” 

Your voice is strained, impossible to use. “No.” 

“They get spanked and fucked so hard that they forget who they are,” he reveals, sailing his hands back down your body, flicking your nipples on the way, before his palms anchor at the V-shape of your private parts. He plays with your folds, stimulating your clit in that way without touching it. You grind your hips into his movements, seeking more, but he slaps your pussy for it, halting you. “That’s the only way they get salvaged.” 

And then he lets go of you. And the look he gives you is so lecherous, so dirty that your legs are jelly as you scurry to the end of the glory hole cubicle, thinking that this entire moment is speckled with glory that will haunt you for the rest of your days. 

You get back into position, your legs dangling out, and Namjoon repeats his voyage. Sails, sails down your tummy before anchoring at the mound of your cunt, but this time he doesn’t gratify you with any delight. He continues down your wet thighs and, abruptly, he turns you over, pushing you forward so your bum shows fully, your tippy toes touching the floor.

The tassels are warm and saturated with the dew of your arousal, tickling the small of your back. 

“Now listen to me,” he says, his fingers wandering all around your flesh, but not where you want him the most. “I’m not Namjoon at this moment. I’m not your teacher. In your mind, you’re gonna go back to who you thought I was before I showed myself to you. Mr. Kim. And you’re gonna address me as so, do you understand?” 

Your brows furrow and you curve your body to the side in question, not understanding this sudden change of the play. You may have wanted this fictional Mr. Kim more than you wanted Namjoon but that was before you found out that he felt the same way as you. 

“Why?” 

He massages the round, graceful cheeks of your bum, propelling you to rest your torso flat on the mat, comfortably. “Because you deserve it. Because your Namjoon isn’t where he’s supposed to be yet. So I’m not fucking you as Namjoon, I’m fucking you as Mr. Kim. This is the only time you’re getting fucked before I get right, so I suggest you enjoy every second.”

You gasp at his words, but your hole reacts first before you do, opening and closing all for his eyes to see—and they do. And he likes the view so much that he takes his thumb and perseverates the brief motion, your center coating his digit in sopping wetness. Your hips follow him and this time, he lets you. He gives you a moment to comprehend your future full of pure possibilities and kisses and you detect in your soul no disapproval. Because you’re rewarded with his heart in the end, it’s worth it. 

His heart is one of gold, one that won’t perish. 

You’ve seen it in the way he treated your mother, in the way he would stop his teasing when you had enough. In the respect he has towards you because he isn’t ready for a relationship. In the promise he gave you, even though that gold is scratched. 

You love him, and because of that you shall play his game. 

“Yes, Mr. Kim.” 

He kisses the fleshiest part of your bum, wetly, humming into your skin—another reward. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, nibbling the place he gave love to. “Try staying one.” 

You mewl, grinding into his face, desirous for a release. “Yes, sir.” 

He draws back and chuckles. “Look at you, so good all of a sudden when you’re all spread for me. You’re still getting spanked, little girl.” 

You whine, pretending that you don’t like what awaits you, when in reality you can’t wait. “Can I get another kisses after?” 

His laughter roars through the room. “Where do you want them?” 

“On my pussy, Mr. Kim.” 

He growls, swearing, his hands nowhere to be found on your body. “You’ll get lots of kisses on your pussy if you take these spanks well. Can you count them down for me?” 

You nod, but you quickly realize that he can’t see you. Your dusky world pirouettes and you’ve tumbled into a state of haziness, needing his firm hand, his dependable stability. “Yeah, I can.” 

Namjoon coos, his palm back on your bum, fondling it. “Good. Do you remember your safe word? You’re still getting those kisses if you use it, darling.” 

You dissolve into the leather, your body limp, but you do remember the magic word of utmost adoration. “Beetle.” 

A kiss on your flesh. “That’s it. Perfect. Does someone you know call you by that nickname?” he asks and you giggle, the comfort and the safety of the moment almost lulling you to sleep. “From ten, little beetle.” 

And he rouses you from your sleepiness by landing a sharp spank on the cheek that he made so tender. The pain is so acute, so good that you almost forget to utter out the number, swimming in the sensation as you are, but Mr. Kim isn’t upset by it. No, he helps you. 

“What number was that?” 

“Ten.” 

“Ten, that’s right. You’re doing so good.” 

Mr. Kim’s kindness enters you all over again, liquifies between your legs, and you moan out. The following sting of his palm is greater than the previous one and your chest arches off the leather, but you like it. Even though he doesn’t alleviate the spank, lets only the air make it better, you still like it—so much that you don’t make a mistake and count it down. 

“Nine.” 

And he repeats it after you, spanking you again and again until the skin of your left cheek is inflamed, burning red, and the perception of the pricks is too much for you to handle. But taking after him, you don’t give up. Grit your jaw, flex your fists, scream out the numbers until you reach one and that side of your bum feels numb. 

And Mr. Kim praises you for it so lasciviously that you can only whine in response, your little noises muffled by the leather. 

“Good girl. You took your punishment so well. Your ass is so prettily red, oh my God. You’re gonna get those kisses now. So, so many of them until you come all over my tongue. Spread your legs even more for me.”

You do as he says, mind blank, and you hear the thud of his knees hitting the floor. That alone makes you drool, the sound of his submission, let alone his satisfied groan when he attaches his mouth to your pussy lips.

And you can’t voice out the surplus of your emotions, the unrestrained joy that you feel because you’re being eaten out by a man that you love, but because of their boisterous nature, they come out nonetheless. Out of your tear ducts, out of the corner of your mouth in the form of drool and little muted noises that are impossible for anyone to hear but you. And you fail him. You can’t imagine a fictional person sucking on your clit like that, that feels as though your soul is being yanked out of you like you were so many times upon this night. No, only Namjoon can do this to you—and so, privately, you bask in it. In Namjoon’s tongue swirling circles on your clit; in Namjoon’s lips sucking them so hard that you lose track of time, surroundings and your own being. In Namjoon’s hands shaking your bum in his face; in his fingers rubbing rapid side-to-side motions on your wet clit from the front when he fucks you with his tongue from the back. 

You’re transported to a place that is neither heaven nor paradise. A place he, himself, must have brought into existence by the energy of his utter devotion for you. And you make it real when you come—sprinkle him with the fountain of your essence that contains the molecules of the universe he created for you. And you float, you float, you float. And he seizes the gravity by praising you for squirting for him, for coming so well and making the best of your so-deserved kisses. 

And then his pants flop to the floor, his sweater—until the only things he’s wearing are his watch, his bracelet and his affection for you. You turn your body halfway so you can see him, the wholeness of his manliness that is aching for you, dripping for you like you’re dripping for him, and his cock is so hard that it points up to his abdomen. You’ve never seen anything like this before and you grow so savagely hungry for it that you begin to suck on your index finger.

Purposefully loudly, smacking your mouth. 

Namjoon chuckles, darkly, and the warmth of that expression of his pulsates in you. “Oh, you’ll be sucking on this cock, too, don’t you worry, my beetle. I just need to feel your pussy around me.” 

Oh, the slip-up. He feels this on the same wavelength as you—no Mr. Kim, no anonymity. Only Namjoon and you. If you were unsure of his feelings before, you can’t be unsure now. The universe he created palpitates around you and you’re so drunk on all of this new knowledge that when he buries himself inside your heat, you can’t let him in. Your walls are compressing so tightly with your still-yet growing arousal that you clamp down on him, but at the sound of his torturous moans, you suck him in. 

And he doesn’t go easy on you. 

With his hard, hard, and long shaft he begins to fuck you, violently. He rams into you without any mercy, lifting your leg onto the mat and entering you more deeply, curling his hips to kiss and kiss your cervix again and again. His strokes are reverberated throughout your whole body—your nipples rub against the leather, your head rocks against it in a way that turns you feral, you gag on your finger, your clit is teased with those relentless pounds. You’re helpless, but also boundless, being fucked like that, and you realize, with your dumb, blank and empty brain, that you’re extensively getting your best friend’s money’s worth. 

And Namjoon elevates your experience. 

He reaches through the hole and roughly captures your hair in his fist, popping your finger out of your mouth. Decides it’s not enough, decides you’ve had enough of the hole time and he pulls you out, all while still being inside of you. Straightens you against him, grasps your jaw while his other hand slips down to your clit. 

And the side-to-side motions are brutal. Mean. So dominant in the way he keeps the contact light, barely stimulating you, but stimulating you, regardless. 

“You think you can gag on your little finger and that it does nothing to me?” he scolds, pinching your clit, and your growl is scratchy, raspy, so fucked out. He’s reprimanding you, but his words don’t reflect his actions. Namjoon kisses you everywhere he can reach. Ear, cheek, jaw, neck. So frantically, so impatiently. “Have you learned nothing?” 

You pant, your orgasm so awfully close from being bound but unbound at the same time, fucked slowly and torturously as Namjoon begins to move, grinding against you. But he has to stop—because if he doesn’t, you’re gonna come all over his cock, right in the center of this room. He’s teasing your build-up, just like you imagined he would, letting it rise and letting it fall in short intervals. 

But he has pity on you, stemming from his affection. A cold, cold pity that you need for the heat rippling through you. 

“Get on the bed. On your knees.” 

He pulls himself out of you and urges you forward—towards the hanging bed. And you don’t care to ponder if it will move under your weight. All you can think about is his dick as you crawl onto that bed that does not wobble at all, but remains perfectly offset. You sit back on your folded legs and wait for him—watch him take those leisurely, effortless steps like he did at the start of this evening. Only this time, you get to see it with your eyes. His tall height, his swaying shoulders, flat abdomen and that hard cock, glistening with your slick. Carmine, aching. 

You lick your lips. Prop yourself on your knuckles in front of you, back arched. Realize he kissed you everywhere, but on your mouth. And so you pout—and you make puppy eyes at him. 

He smooths down a flyaway on your sweaty hairline, endeared. “What’s wrong?” 

“You haven’t kissed me on the lips.” 

Namjoon smiles down at you, dejectedly. Curls your hair behind your ear, grabs you by the back of your neck, calls to attention all the butterflies in your tummy. “I’m sorry.” 

And he captures your mouth. As Namjoon, as a golden-hearted man that longs to give you the world, and you can vividly feel it. Mr. Kim doesn’t exist anymore and Namjoon seals that fact in when he prods his tongue inside, toying with yours before retreating back, moaning into the kiss. 

A kiss that was more than a kiss. 

And you have to kiss him again when he takes a moment to breathe. You have to devour him, clasp your hand around his wet cock as you do so—and Namjoon has to push your head down, fucking your mouth until your tears freely escape from all directions. He grips your hair tight, holds you to him from the side, plunging in and out of your throat however he pleases, your gagging noises encouraging him to possess every inch of you. Your mascara zigzags down your face in clumps—and once Namjoon’s pity flickers in him all over again, he lifts you and kisses you so nastily that you fade into nothingness. 

Then, you’re on your back and he pounds that nothingness. Uses your thighs as leverage as you’re just laying there, a hole and nothing else. Perhaps the cubicle changed your life to such an extent that you’ve become it. You shall never forget it—even now it is scattered all across your vision as you’re fucked into oblivion, the skin-slapping sounds and your pussy squelching around him accompanying your memory of the dark wood, the fairy lights, the restraints you never used.

The sex was too personal, too intimate for you to do so. Even before you discovered that Mr. Kim was Namjoon. Your body recognized his, your mind too blind, too preoccupied with your anger that is now healed. 

As if Namjoon could read your thoughts, he pumps into you with a hard thrust, eternalizing it. 

“Focus on me,” he growls and you squeak, hiccuping into every movement. It feels as though he’s blocking your throat with how deeply he’s ravaging you and you can only nod. 

You can only moan his name. 

“Namjoon. Yes, yes, yes—oh, Namjoon.” 

He laughs, that articulation of his joy abating in your mouth as he bends to kiss you, fully buried in you. And then he pulls out, presses his heavy cock on your cunt, lifts your head by grabbing your hair, consuming your mouth as if you were everything he ever lacked in his life. 

“Grind your pussy on it, it’s yours, my little beetle.” 

You whine, pucker your mouth against his, spinning your hips in circles, his cock so wet and so sticky from your happy juices. 

“Joonie, Joonie bug.” 

He closes his eyes, moaning all in your face, the principle of you softening and connecting his persona to yours absolutely ruining him. He tightens his grip on your hair, sinks himself inside you with his other hand and then sticks those soaked fingers inside your mouth. All four of them, gagging you. 

“Little beetle and big Joonie bug, hm. How do we taste?” His tone is so low that it penetrates your skin, paralyzing your senses until only one remains. Until all you know is the bitter-sweetness of his precum and the tanginess of your slick. And he doesn’t draw his fingers back, he continues to control your gags until he paints your face in another set of pretty black tears. “Tell me. How do we taste?” 

You growl around him, the sound he knows, and he pounds you for it, a thrust that hurts but feels good at the same time. You suck on his fingers, a trail of your drool trickling down from your connection, and Namjoon grunts. Slides his fingers out of your mouth and places them right on your clit. 

Rapid, rapid rubs. And equally rapid strokes. 

“Come,” he orders, and it’s like he flicked his fingers and made your body come. You didn’t have to do a thing. “Good. Finally. It feels so good, doesn’t it? Coming around my cock after all this time. Joonie bug is right there with you. Just a little bit more.” 

He’s given life to your orgasm by his words. A storm erupts, clearing out everything negative that was ever seeped throughout your soul. Your body quakes, submitted to him through and through, at his disposal to make himself come—until your orgasm is so milky that you can’t see. Your vision is dotted with white, with tiny glazing stars that must be hung up in the sky just like this bed. And Namjoon brings you to him, lips to lips, needing you as he fucks you through your mutual release, and those stars splotch him with their dust. 

You squirt all over him, for the second time around. And you don’t stop, the twitching of his cock, the warmth of his cum as he keeps stuffing you full of it, the unfaltering hardness of his thick shaft roll in your tiny orgasms, those little fountains of boundless pleasure that drench him, give him the likeness of those stars. He’s turned on your squirting ability and there’s no way back. No, no way back. 

Namjoon is exhausted as he pulls out—and you already feel so empty, so lonely. His cum streams out of you, staining the bed, and it saddens you so much that you reach into your heat to collect it, plunging your fingers into your mouth, eating him. And you moan, at his male taste, for the last time. 

“Fuck, don’t do that. I can’t go again.” He wipes down his face, a gleaming man that has your entire identity woven into his veins that run all across his arms, and you love him. You love him so drastically that you can’t get on your feet on your own, can’t make a decision of your own, can’t live without him. 

He fucked you so well that he attached you to himself. 

A wave of strange emotions engulf you. 

“Namjoon,” you whimper, tears burning each corner of your eyes, and you don’t know what to do, you don’t know what is happening. He lifts his head, round eyes blinking, and he’s so quick to cradle you into his arms, letting you cling to him, letting you wrap your legs around his torso like a baby. And that’s precisely how you feel—like a baby. 

“Talk to me,” he encourages, caressing your back in circles, and you moor your face in his neck, inhaling his individual bodily scent. So masculine, so heady, so intoxicating. You sob, running your fingers through his misty, blond-streaked hair, needing to be even closer to him than is physically possible. 

Namjoon shushes you, kissing your shoulder, giving you the strength to speak, giving you the identification of what you’re feeling. 

“This was so intense,” you croak out and Namjoon hums, halting his touch to focus on you wholly. “Emotionally. I feel much closer to you. Too close.” 

And he’s not running out of things to give you. He gives you kisses on your neck that bear no sexual context—romantic, reassuring kisses that ease up your muscles, that part the raging thunder of your emotions. And he gives you such comfort that you feel as though you’re floating upon an open body of water, as free as a human being can be. 

“What we did was intense but it was right. What you’re feeling is normal. I’m feeling it, too. We’ve been hiding our feelings for so long and we let them out just now, so it’s overwhelming. It’s okay. You’re good. Such a good girl, my good little lady beetle, tiniest girl beetle in the whole universe. I will protect you from the other bugs. Let’s get this make-up off, hm?” 

You nod, sob and laugh softly at that solace. Namjoon carries you into the shower. Lets the cold water streak down on you while you shield yourself from it, nearly slipping off his grasp. Namjoon chuckles, hoisting you higher, taking a step back to wash you completely clean. You scream and his chuckle deepens, getting you away from the iciness by pressing you against the tiles. 

He truly won’t stop teasing you. 

The water turns warm by the time he fetches the make-up remover. Pouring some on a large cotton pad, he cleanses the remnant of your sex tears, the physical memory of how good he fucked you and how he bound your soul to his. He’s careful around your eyes, focusing so intently that his lip is caged between his teeth. Once he’s finished, he kisses you—with Mr. Kim’s gentleness. 

Washes you clean, especially thoroughly between your legs. Embraces you in the shower and lets you feel—creates a safe space for your feelings. 

And then he’s dressing you in the clothes you came here in. A dark green dress that ends at your ankles. He makes sure to kiss your butterfly tattoo as he smooths down the skirt and you think you’re ready to marry him. 

You want to meet his mother. Not now, not after what you’ve done together. But someday soon. And you want your mother to meet his. 

“I need a cigarette,” you comment as he’s scrunching your hair with a towel. He himself has changed into a pair of clean black dress pants and a plain white shirt, almost oversized. An outfit that made your mouth water. “Like right now. And at least two.” 

He huffs out a laugh. “You can smoke on the balcony. I’ll have one with you. Do you want a drink?” 

Your eyes light up. Your whole body, too. 

Placing a bathrobe around your shoulder, he gently slaps your butt and guides you forward to the balcony. He grabs that bottle of red wine you had opened and joins you.

Two chairs, one small round table in the middle. The view of the entire Seoul city and a fucking statue in the corner of the balcony. 

A beautiful girl, half dressed. The fabric of her forever garment falls off her chest and you’ve never seen a more spectacular sculpture in your life. You enkindle your cigarette and touch her cool face, feel yourself immersed in her seductive beauty. One day you shall be just like her—once Namjoon comes to collect you. Not a doll, but a girl. 

“Take a picture of me,” you say, getting into position, only to realize that Namjoon has been snapping pictures of you while you were acknowledging yourself with the statue. With a cigarette hanging limply in the corner of his mouth. 

You can’t love him any deeper. 

You pose with her. Mirror her body language, even shake off your bathrobe and let your straps fall off your body like her. Private pictures just for him and for you—a reminder for what awaits you. 

A future full of pure possibilities. And sex, lots of and lots of sex. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild , @jjk7k , @parkinglot-nights , @bethvar , @Sexytholland , @yoongibaybee , @crystaleah ,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan , @euphoricmyth , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk .

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[saladoffruitcolored]

Yandere platonic omega father x neglected child reader PT 4

A week after your little breakdown, you find yourself in an individual therapy session. Dr. Sarah stares at you with sharp eyes. Before your realization, this made you feel uncomfortable and insecure, but now you don't dare look away.

You force yourself to sit up straight. You will no longer be that beta from the past who showed weakness to anyone and everyone, hoping to be comforted. You finally understand that the world doesn't give you a prize just for being good. You understand now that being a kind person in a selfish world is asking for someone to sink their teeth into your fragile and useless heart. Today, you would create a different persona, and without you knowing it, this action would have consequences.

Every day was the same for Dr. Sarah. Every day she dealt with the pathetic problems of her mediocre patients. Each one was more pathetic than the last, all of them incapable of overcoming simple problems.

Did your alpha boyfriend get your omega mother pregnant? Get over it

Your boss fired you because you were giving off aggressive pheromones at work? Well, how about not giving off pheromones then?

Are you being overworked because your alpha boss isn't doing his share of the work because he's too busy chasing some omega? Just quit

It seems like she's the only rational person in the world, why is everyone around her so dumb?

It was always the same problems, most of them involving omegas, she always knew she was better than everyone around her but lately that fact was becoming more apparent with every appointment she had

All she had to do was listen to her idiot patients' problems and say nice words, telling them that not everything was lost when it obviously was, not that she cared much, as long as she kept making money from these poor idiots she really didn't mind pretending they weren't a waste of society's time

Nobody cares about the problems in these fools' lives and them having to pay for someone to listen to them talk about everything that was going wrong in their lives made it all the more pathetic

When she met you, her newest patient she almost laughed

Another patient with abandonment issues caused by an omega parent, these are quite common nowadays

Sitting in the armchair in her living room you looked like a wet and pathetic little mouse, you were shaking and picking at both cuticles until they bled, you couldn't even look her in the eyes

Not that she blames you for avoiding eye contact, she knows she has an intimidating look, of course a little mouse like you would be afraid of a predator like her

And idiot, has she ever commented that you looked stupid? Listening to you for five minutes was all she needed to understand that your omega father had no interest in interacting with you, it was so obvious that you were the only one trying to force a relationship on top of non-existent feelings

She tried to tell you this in the nicest way possible (there was nothing nice about the way she spoke to you, but she is experienced enough in the area to rephrase insults to sound like compliments so that no patient could accuse or sue her for telling the truth about their pathetic lives)

You were like a dog that even after being kicked insists on coming back with its tail wagging to its owner in the hope of receiving a cuddle, she honestly thought you were a lost cause

She thought you would be just another pathetic patient until the change, until you changed

You missed three scheduled appointments this week, your alpha father paid the no-show fine and she just didn't think much about it

Maybe your alpha father realized that paying for therapy for a person who doesn't want to change is a waste of money, even a professional as esteemed, competent, superior and perfect as her can't change someone who doesn't want to change

But no

You showed up for the appointment scheduled for the following week, but you didn't seem like yourself... you're different

Those colorful clothes were gone, your previously messy hair was now cut and neat, your posture was straight and for the first time you didn't look away

And what a look...

Your eyes were different, it was as if something was missing in them, a spark that had gone out after losing the fight against the storm

For the first time she wasn't the one evaluating, she was the one being evaluated

Interesting, very, very INTERESTING

She had never seen such a sudden change, for the first time she was interested in really listening to a patient

Now you didn't stutter anymore, you spoke calmly and steadily, she could see that you kept your hands closed in fists, you squeezed them so tightly that she could almost imagine the red slowly covering your palms but at no time did you pick at your cuticles in that ridiculous display of weakness like you used to

You also spoke so eloquently, you were almost a new you

With each therapy session, with each passing week, she felt a longing growing inside her. That apathetic expression and those eyes full of anger and silent sadness became the center of her world. Initially, what started as a fun event that paralyzed her boring life had now evolved into a great love obsession

The sessions you attended became the highlight of her day, the moment you started talking she lost herself in dreams, she had never been so interested in another person's life

She quickly began to dream, dream of a future where you were hers, where she would be the only one to heal the void that that despicable man left in her heart, a future where she would be the ONLY one to understand you, a future where she would be your mother

She knew that this position was vacant in your life, that foolish omega had left leaving an unprotected treasure behind. She felt like you were a unique work of art and the idea of ​​someone else changing your essence made her furious, the fear of the possibility of you finding comfort and guidance somewhere else consumed her inside

Sarah already knew what she was going to do, as your psychologist it wasn't very difficult to get privileged information about your daily life, she would start small by going to the same places as you and your alpha father, she would claim to be an acquaintance and would slowly start introducing herself into your personal life

First she would become a friend and then she would seduce your alpha father, that would be the best way to enter your little family Sarah was never interested in getting married but for you she was willing to submit to a loveless marriage, it would be like marrying a friend with benefits and raising a puppy together, no feelings other than friendship and love for the puppy uniting them

Although she hates sharing she recognizes that your alpha father is a good father, she is willing to share her love with the alpha father, maybe he's not a complete ignoramus if he was able to create and support such a wonderful being like you

She can already imagine you calling her “mom” or “mommy”, she's even researched the entire adoption process and can't wait to one day erase that pathetic omega's name from your birth certificate, her name would look perfect on that little piece of paper

Renewing new documents is tedious but she won't mind having to spend months going to the registry office to put her name on each document of yours

Sarah would erase all traces of that little man from her life, she would convince the alpha father to buy a new house because a new beginning requires a new house without memories haunting the walls, she would put dozens of photos of new memories to decorate the walls (she would edit her baby photos to remove all the appearances of the omega father and then put them on the wall too)

It was a long game but for Lucky for her, she's always been a very patient person

You being born from that pathetic omega instead of her must have been a mistake of the universe that she was willing to fix and when that omega comes back, because ungrateful omegas like him always come crawling back, she'll be ready to defend her position as your mother

She'll be the perfect mother for you, she'll even get revenge for you by making that omega suffer like he's never suffered before

She'll do so many things

PIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!

Ah the alarm...the session is over

“Looks like our session is over for today, we made great progress, see you next week honey”

Watching you get up to leave was painful, but everything would be okay because soon she would see you every day because she would be your new and improved mommy

Soon she would seduce your alpha dad and...

What was his name again? If he was going to be her future husband and if she was going to become the future mother of his baby, she would have to at least know his name

Taking her form with her information, she read it again (how many times did she read and reread that form when she was missing you?) and found the information that she had previously ignored because it was irrelevant to her at the time

“Rowan, so his name is Rowan...hmm, that's not a bad name at all”

She was getting ready to enter a new phase of life: marriage and having a baby, and honestly, she couldn't wait to throw herself headfirst into this future new reality.

[hannieehaee]

NEEDLE IN THE HAY

18+ / mdi

summary: after swearing off dating due to a messy breakup, wonwoo finds himself being forced out of the house by mingyu, joining the 97 squad as an honorary member. what wonwoo didn't realize, however, was that he'd end up swallowing his words after meeting the newest addition to the friend group.

content: idol!wonwoo x idol!reader, pining, friends to lovers, wonwoo's pov, reader is a 97 liner, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, angst (with a happy ending), some self-deprecating thoughts from wonu </3

wc: 8.5k

a/n: can u guys tell i love idol aus or what .. anyways, this time i used proper capitalization since this is long as fuck! hope u enjoy even if its a bit of a mess <3

masterlist kofi/patreon

support me through a one-time tip! <3

Wonwoo was going through a slump.

As commonly known by his fans (and probably non fans too, by now), Wonwoo had a girlfriend prior to debuting. He's not entirely sure how the news came about to the public (something about a trainee leaking information ..?), but in reality that didn't really matter. What mattered now was that he now had to relive his messy breakup over and over again as people made it a bit of a 'meme' among the fandom. It wasn't like it made it to the news or anything, but even the reminder was enough to bring back the bad memories surrounding it. All the low self-esteem and doubtfulness that was attached to it. The breakup might've been distant by now, but the news breaking out were fresh, causing Wonwoo's wounds to reopen.

Now, Wonwoo didn't blame carats for this. Under any other circumstance he would've also found it comedic, but after it being a few years since the breakup and not managing to find a long-term relationship ever since, Wonwoo found himself in a slump once more, just like he felt when he was freshly broken up.

She, who shall not be named, was one of his closest friends in grade school. She hung around when he was nothing more than a lanky loser (not his words, but that of a few rowdy kids at school). She'd seen him and respected him before the world even knew his name. And then she'd become more than a friend.

As Wonwoo first made the decision to join Pledis, he was entirely unsure of himself. He wasn't untalented by absolutely any means, that much even he knew. He was growing to be a handsome young man, and was discovering new skills every day. But he didn't feel like he stood out enough to make it all the way to debut. His girlfriend, however, stood by him and gave him the strength to continue, which he did in hopes of making not only his family proud, but what he believed to be the love of his life proud too. Okay, maybe that was a bit too much, but he was a teenager, who could blame him for thinking himself in love?

Soon after came his debut. Things were going great. The sole fact that he had made it to debut with 12 of his friends and fellow trainees had him over the moon. He had fans now; supporters who thought the world of him. He had a happy family waiting for him at home, and a girl he was infatuated with that he could keep all to himself, away from the public eye. Everything was perfect. Until it wasnt.

It was as predictable as you'd imagine. The fame, the limelights, the constantly-changing schedules. It was all too much for someone who could do no more than watch from the sidelines. The issues began a few years into his debut. He felt her begin to pull away. To be fair, he might've unconsciously pulled away first, but his life was getting too hectic for things to be the same as before. Maybe it was his fault for believing that she would evolve along with his life, willing to follow him as he continued his journey with his 12 friends.

If that had been the end, maybe it would've been okay. But the breakup had not happened just yet. We could've stayed friends if we had only ended it there, he'd thought many times. Unfortunately for Wonwoo, a clean break just was not in his cards. He found out about it through his younger brother. The betrayal. The disrespect. The heartbreak. He would've rathered she'd broken his heart face to face, you know? Maybe that way it wouldn't have hurt years into the future as it continued to do.

She had found someone else. It was some guy she met in college (something Wonwoo thought he'd do someday, but had chosen the life of an artist instead). There was nothing wrong with the guy, it just wasn't Wonwoo. He thought that maybe if she'd told him, he would've understood, would've been sad, but would've respected her decision, but no, she made her choice. Had she forgotten to break up with him beforehand? Was he just an afterthought? These were the questions that plagued Wonwoo's mind years after the fact. He had decided to confront her with what his brother had seen. Them together at a cafe, too close for comfort. What was saddest was her lack of denial. She didn't even fight back; fight for him. She had turned it around into his fault. As if he'd forced her hand. What broke Wonwoo more than the betrayal was the look of disdain in her eyes. It made him feel like maybe he was the villain. That maybe even if he tried, he just couldn't be loved in that way.

That's how he found himself in this situation. Two years past the five year long relationship, coming across another post detailing a theory of whether or not Wonwoo was still with his 'pre-debut girlfriend', as people liked to call her. He believed himself to be over the girl, but couldn't find himself to admit whether or not he was over the hurt. Only time would tell, he guessed.

"Come on, hyung. You can't stay here every time you have one of your episodes. It's been years, you have to move on!"

Mingyu was getting ready for another outing with his famous 97 squad; this time the attendees being Eunwoo, Jungkook, and Y/N. He was trying, yet again, to convince his elder of joining him and his friends. Maybe he wasn't a 97-liner, but he was well-liked by all the members of the group, and he figured the outing would do his friend some good, seeing as he was once again down in the dumps over his old girlfriend.

"I told you it's not that, Mingyu," responded Wonwoo, barely facing away from his computer, once again gaming during his very limited free time.

"Okay, if you're truly not sad about that anymore, then come out with us! It's been a while since you've even left the apartment, and you've never actually accepted any of my invites out! If you don't like it, we'll leave. It's all people you've already met anyways," reasoned, a very stubborn Mingyu.

"I don't actually know any of them, Gyu. Saying hello whenever they come visit you doesn't really count as knowing a person."

"Okay! Fine! What do you want? What do I have to give to get my best friend to hang out with me? Money? You're rich! What? You wanna play video games? They like video games, too! Come. On. Just this once."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, knowing his friend meant well, but not wanting to be around people while he had one of his usual slumps.

He pondered it for a minute. Maybe it'd be nice to be with other people like him. He'd never really made friends within the industry outside of the members and a few people he'd politely nod to as he walked the hallways of Hybe. Maybe it was time he broke out of his shell and befriended other people who would understand the loneliness that came with being an idol.

"Fine," he replied before his friend could hit him with another rebuttal to his denials. "Just this once."

Wonwoo didn't know what he was expecting any time Mingyu would bring up his outings with the 97's. With Mingyu's extroverted and eccentric personality, both in and out of the public eye, he assumed he meant clubbing or at least hitting up a pub. He wasn't sure what you or Jungkook or Eunwoo were into, but he assumed you'd be somewhat like Mingyu. But he couldn't have been more wrong.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that his loud friend's friends all had a very striking contrast to him. The three idols sitting around him in Eunwoo's (whose name was actually Dongmin, apparently) apartment all seemed very quiet and calm. Their personalities also all seemed to match his better than that of Mingyu's, which made him come to the realization that maybe that was how they'd all befriended each other; through the overgrown puppy's incessant need to befriend everyone in every room he walked into.

Wonwoo appreciated Mingyu, truly. His outgoing nature would sometimes make a shy guy like Wonwoo, who liked to keep himself as small as possible, a little uneasy at times, but be appreciated his best friend's constant aid in getting Wonwoo's mood up. Even now. He hated to admit it, but his sudden decrease in mood seemed to be rapidly disappearing thanks to the new change of environment.

He had quickly taken a liking to Mingyu's three friends.

Dongmin was nice and insightful. A pretty face and a very interesting mind. He saw a bit of himself in him.

Jungkook was polite and funny. He was the perfect balance of childhood friend and college heartrob.

You. Well, Wonwoo hadn't quite figured you out yet. Admittedly, this had been the first time you'd ever spoken past a polite greeting or an inquiry for Mingyu's whereabouts, but he had been able to get a read for the other two members of the group. You were the outlier.

What he knew, though, was that he liked you. Okay, not like that, but there was an easiness that you seemed to carry with you. You were simply easy for him to fall into conversation with. It had already been a few hours (and a few drinks) since Wonwoo and Mingyu had arrived to Dongmin's apartment, and you and Wonwoo had been engaged in ongoing conversation shortly after arriving. And the conversation didn't seem to be heading towards its end any time soon. It had begun as a group outing (well, indoors), but to Wonwoo it now felt like a one-on-one, as the three remaining members of the 97's seemed distracted on their own, leaving you and Wonwoo to converse with each other freely.

-

"Okay, yeah. That can be kind of annoying, but how can you complain about Mingyu?! He's such a sweet guy," you laughed, responding to one of the many lighthearted disses of Mingyu Wonwoo had been feeding you with.

"You don't have to live with him. He's even louder at home," he chuckled.

"Then move out! I live alone now, finally. I love my members, but there's nothing as nice as being alone after coming home from hectic schedules."

"Yeah, I can imagine. Can't do that, though. I don't really like being alone that much," he revealed.

"You? Really? Then how come it's taken Mingyu this long to get you out of the house?," you inquired, leaning towards him with interest.

That was something he liked about you immediately. You listened. You showed visible interest in what he had to say. Granted, none of the things you'd been talking about thus far were groundbreaking (so far you'd managed to speak of predebut stories, hopes for your respective groups, current hobbies, a few movie and book recommendations here and there, and endless other things), but he still appreciated someone outside of his family and members who showed interest in what he had to say. Still, part of him believed he might've been so starved for affection he could've just been reading too much into it.

"Oh," he chuckled. "He told you about that?"

"Fuck. Okay, don't tell him I said this. And I mean it, I trust you, Wonwoo," you paused. "He told us he'd been trying to get you out of the house a bit ... that you'd been feeling down."

Oh. Okay, now he felt a bit awkward. Why would Mingyu give opening for him to receive pity even from strangers?

"Oh. I-"

"So, I insisted he invited you come out with us."

Oh?

"You did? I .. How come?"

"Well. Honestly? I've been there. Having your members is great and all. And if you have a supportive family, that's even better. But our lifestyle's too isolated to not have as many people around us as we can. I don't know how I managed to navigate the industry before meeting Mingyu. He really took me under his wing and made sure I felt welcomed with the other 97's, even with all the shit he got for hanging out with a female idol so publicly."

So, that's how you'd met. Man, he's always known Mingyu as one of the nicest people he's ever met, but this truly made him take the cake. He remembered the articles that came out about both you him (and a few of the other 97-liners) when they'd made you the first female addition to the friend group. He didn't pay them much mind, seeing as dating rumours come by the dozens among idols, but he hadn't really stopped to think about how it might've affected you.

"Did he tell you about .. why I kept saying no?"

"No. And I didn't want to intrude. Your battles are your own, Wonwoo, unless you want to share them."

Well, fuck. He was wrong. Well, right. Both. You did care. You didn't even know him, but you still cared. Or at least it seemed like it. He couldn't really wrap his head around the concept. He hadn't let anyone in (other than his 12 brothers) about what had happened. He had never felt the need to. He felt embarrassed by it. I mean, it was just a break up; an old one no one even knew about. Yes, he got cheated on, but it had been years ago. He should be over it by now. Even though people kept bringing his ex up. But why did he feel like he could confide in you?

He considered it. Telling you, that is. But he quickly realized that was just the alcohol talking. You had just met. He didn't want to scare you away. Hmm. Maybe he should circle back on this thought at some point. He also didn't want to make you privy to the most embarrassing thing about him (the green room shenanigans did not hold a candle to his pathetic heartbreak story if he had anything to say about it). So, he decided to save it for another time. He'd already decided in his head that he'd want to see you again. Maybe he would take up Mingyu on his offer to join the 97's as an honorary member.

The conversation eventually circled back to something more lighthearted, allowing Wonwoo to enjoy your company for a few more hours before Mingyu decided it was time for them to leave, knowing his friends probably had busy days tomorrow, just like any idol would.

Wonwoo couldn't sleep. The effects of the alcohol were fully gone by now; his loose tongue tightened back up and his mood regulated once again. Despite that, his mind was still clouded with thoughts of you. He had originally chalked it up to alcohol, how he felt a strange sense of disappointed upon having to bid his goodbye to you earlier tonight. But, lying in bed many hours later, he realized it was all still in his head. Your long-winded conversation, the drinks you shared together, the genuine care in your eyes, even Mingyu's stupid smirk as they walked back into their apartment, muttering something along the lines of 'I knew you'd have fun'. It was all still running around in his head, depriving him of sleep. He felt an odd sense of anxiousness. Excitement, maybe? He wasn't sure. He was looking forward to finding out though.

-

The next day was filled with schedules. A quick appearance at a comeback show in the morning, followed by a fitting back at the Hybe building, along with a few hours of practice with the boys. He'd always enjoyed hectic days like this. While tiring, they kept his mind occupied, and allowed him to spend the day with some of the people he treasured the most. Seeing carats early in the morning was also a treat. Even if for only a few minutes, walking past the crowd of people waiting for his arrival at MNET was always nice. It made him put a face (well, multiple) to the people who loved him most.

He was now ending his day, just as soon as it had started, when he heard a voice call to him from across the long hallway. Turning around, he found ... you? you! what were you doing here?

"Wonwoo! Wait up!", you quickly caught up to him as he halted his movements in order to wait for you. You two then began walking together.

"Hey ? What are you doing here?"

You stopped. "Really? Wonwoo! I work here? My group's been here for a few months now, did you never notice? Hybe acquired my company last year," despite your shock at his ignorance, there was no actual anger or annoyance in your voice.

He felt kind of bad. You'd spent grand part of last night letting Wonwoo know how much attention you'd paid to Mingyu's retellings of Wonwoo's problems only for him to not know the most basic of things about you. It really wasn't that big of a deal, but it was with small details like this that his ex began to pull away.

"Oh, wait, Wonwoo. I'm not actually mad, I'm sorry. I just assumed you already knew," his face must've told on him. He had to admit that he was kind of paranoid after what had happened. He'd already ruined a few friendships (along with the relationship) with his lack of attention to the people around him. He didn't want to add you to the list of failed relationships so soon.

"Ah. Sorry. I don't really keep track of those things too often. I'm too distracted sometimes."

"I get you. There's too many new groups at Hybe for you to have noticed anyway. Anyways! Are you done for the day?"

He felt his heart accelerate at the thought of you wanting to know what his future whereabouts would be.

"Uh, yeah. I was heading home actually?"

"What? Nooo! Mingyu's taking Jungkook and I out to a little discreet pub he knows. You should come with. Please. They're so annoying when Dongmin's missing," you pleaded, making eyes at him.

You wanted him to come? You were inviting him? He hadn't really gone out for a few weeks (since he began to see people speak of his 'pre-debut ex-girlfriend' that everyone assumed was still in the picture). He had to admit, he found it kind of funny how carats would whine at the idea of him being taken. That was kind of the silver lining; a slight lift to his bad mood surrounding it. He-

"Wonwoo? It's okay if you don't wanna come. I don't wanna pressure you!"

Oh, shit. He was in his head again. He needed to break these habits if he wanted to work on his people skills.

"Oh, sorry. No, I was thinking of something else, sorry," he chuckled awkwardly, "I .. yeah, I'd love to come," he found himself agreeing.

Wonwoo was not an awkward man by any means. His fans and many others knew him as a charming guy, which he really was. He was just going through a weird period in his life. That and you made him nervous for some reason.

"Great,"you smiled back at him, further increasing the speed of his heart.

Wonwoo was extra exhausted after today's events, not being used to outings with people outside of his members after already tiresome days. For some reason, his social battery always drained almost immediately when around people he wasn't too familiar with, and tonight he'd chosen to spend the night at a pub full of strangers. But, hey, at least you were there.

Once more, you and Wonwoo found yourselves in one-on-one conversation. Although Mingyu had been slightly surprised to see his friend arrive with you at the selected meeting spot at the pub, he gave Wonwoo a knowing smile, glad to have his friend out of the house once again.

The goodbye was, again, dreadful for Wonwoo. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He wasn't usually someone to get attached so easily, but your name just called to his ever since that first time he met you. This time had worsened his condition. You drank together, exchanged numbers, maybe even flirted(?) a little, and then went your own ways, sharing a quick hug as you departed.

He hated to rush things (even if it was only in his head), but he had to admit to himself that he liked you. Yeah, like that. He felt like a teenager again; giddy at the thought of you, crushing on the pretty girl his friend introduced him to. He had unofficially sworn off dating two years ago when he broke up with her, but it wasn't like that was too big of an effort considering his dating market as an idol wasn't very expansive anyways. He also didn't want to assume things. You were just a friend. But you were also so pretty, and nice, and you had so much in common with him, you even shared a career! You were just his type, he realized. He wondered why you hadn't dated any of the 97's before. Wait, maybe you had a boyfriend. One Wonwoo, of course, wouldn't know about since you'd just met. Fuck. There he went again, letting his mind spiral over the smallest of things. He needed to give himself a break and just enjoy your friendship. Enjoy the good things he had instead of thinking of the bad. That had been a struggle lately.

You and Wonwoo continued to meet occasionally like that. Eventually meeting almost daily at the company. You'd stop by his practice room to hang out during work, and vice versa. He also found himself begging Mingyu to let him join in on his outings, wanting to see you even after work. He tried to be casual about it, but as soon as his smug friend realized the reason behind Wonwoo's sudden interest, he teased him endlessly about it, making jokes like 'But you're a 98-liner, why would you wanna hang out with us kids?,' a smirk glued to his face. He hadn't told Mingyu about his crush (nor would he ever admit to it), but Mingyu's correct assumption of his feelings for you led his friend to try and become a bit of a matchmaker. He'd now taken a habit to purposely leaving you and Wonwoo alone, even dragging his other friends away when they'd try and make conversation in order to get the two of you together. He was embarrassed by this, but was even more embarrassed that he was kind of thankful for his friend's actions.

Wonwoo had been enjoying the time he got to spend with you alone. Like now. Mingyu had invited you, Dongmin, Jungkook and Jaehyun over to his (and Wonwoo's place), something that didn't tend to happen before since Mingyu had wanted to respect Wonwoo's privacy. This was your first time here. Your first time in Wonwoo's room (door open, of course) as he showed you some of his recent photography that he'd told you about in your previous meeting. Once more, he felt like a teenager as he showed you his art, giddy at your endless compliments towards his talent.

"Jesus. So many idols pick up photography as a hobby, but I'd never seen any of them be actually good at it. Wonwoo, these are amazing!", he heard compliments like this from fans and staff alike very often, but it just had a different effect when it came from you.

He wanted to deny you; be bashful about it and chuckle a polite disagreement to your compliment, but after getting to know you better these past few weeks, he knew that wouldn't fly with you, instead opting for a shy 'thank you' in response.

"I'm serious, Wonwoo. You should do a showing or something! Your fans would love it. And .. you should teach me also!", he loved how enthusiastic you always were. It reminded him a lot of his best friend. Maybe that's why he liked the both of you so much.

He turned his head to face you as you sat next to him on his bed, lap to lap. He hadn't realized how close you had been sitting to one another in order to look at his laptop screen. Before he could scoot away, you turned your head too, now having only a few inches between your faces.

You looked at each other without saying anything, Wonwoo's breath hitching. Any reasonable man would've pulled you in for a kiss as soon as he noticed your eyes trail down to his lips, clearly inciting him to do so. But Wonwoo wasn't a very reasonable man. He was a mess of unreasonable emotions, which led him to his first mistake.

Seeing as he wasn't doing anything, you seemed to become frustrated at his lack of action, leaning in instead of him. Now, that would've been perfect if Wonwoo were, you know, normal. But the end result was less than favorable. As you leaned in, he panicked, getting up from the bed in a rush and creating a very obvious space between you. Your eyes widened, and he caught a hint of hurt and embarrassment behind them at his actions before you quickly took control of your expression.

"I, uhh. It's getting late. You have an early morning, don't you?", fuck, why the hell was he saying that?! Was he kicking you out? Wonwoo kicked himself in his mind, but his mouth kept running against his will. "I have an early morning, maybe you should, uh .."

He caught that hurt in your eyes once more as you responded. "Oh, I .. Right. Sorry .. Yes, I do, actually. I should go now .. Thanks for showing me your pictures. Have a nice night, Wonwoo," you were being far too cordial with him, seemingly making it a point of using overly formal language when the two of you had agreed before to speak casually; as friends.

He fucked it up. Again.

He watched you leave without stopping you. He had every chance to as you looked back at him one more time before exiting his room. He had another chance as he heard you close the front door to his apartment. He could've ran after you (even speed-walking would've sufficed, really), but he stood there like an idiot.

Wonwoo was right. He was incapable of love. Romantic love, at least. He still had many friends and a loving family back home, but he had been right to believe himself unlovable after his ex had left him. Turns out she was right. It was all his fault.

A few weeks had gone by since he last saw you. The text messages between you now unexistent, and the chance for reconciliation dying further every passing day. You hadn't tried to contact him after what happened, nor did you wait outside his practice room every day as you had taken a habit of doing a few weeks into your friendship. Mingyu's invites to hang out with his friends were now left unattended by Wonwoo, not wanting to sour your free time with your friends with his presence. He'd ruined everything, he admitted to himself. It was obvious to him and everyone else that your friendship had begun to blossom into something more. There had been hints here and there of your reciprocation of his feelings, but they terrified him, so he chose to ignore them.

He thought about his feelings, but not yours, he had come to realize a few days after the fact.

He had wanted to kiss you so badly. He'd dreamt about it, even. He felt silly to admit this, but you'd become such a constant in his life in such a short period of time that he found it easy to imagine you there forever now. He felt the same way he did back in high school when he believed himself to be in love with his ex. He realized now that those feelings for her had dissipated quickly after his debut. They'd only been together for so long due to the familiarity of it. Maybe that's why his ex had such a hard time breaking off things with him. Maybe that's why she chose to cheat on him instead. Maybe that familiarity was what made the situation such a mess in the first place.

He had gotten out of his slump thanks to you (and Mingyu, maybe), but now he had fallen right back into it, even worse this time.

It didn't take long for his roommate to notice his friend's absences in their outings, or the stark difference in his mood as soon as he got home every day from being an idol. Mingyu had the privilege (not really) of seeing how whatever happened between you took effect on the both of you. He saw his best friend fall back into his previous depressive state, while he saw you become a shell of yourself. He didn't know what happened, and he honestly didn't care. No one asked for his help, but he was going to give it anyways.

By some act of god, Mingyu was able to convince Wonwoo to leave their apartment long enough to participate in an upcoming outing once more. He had promised that the only other attendee would be Jungkook, as the plan was to have some drinks at the man's house. Other than you, Wonwoo had taken a special liking to Jungkook, having many things in common with him. Wonwoo had only agreed to attend in order to lessen any suspicion Mingyu may have had about the reason behind his current low mood, but he was also happy to see one of his new friends again.

Unfortunately for Wonwoo, Mingyu was a meddler. He wasn't entirely sure why he was even surprised at seeing you walk across Jungkook's front door as he sat on one of his couches, drink in hand. An unsuspecting Jungkook let you in, not taking notice of your shocked face at spotting Wonwoo just a few meters away. Wonwoo should've known that Mingyu would get involved sooner or later. He wasn't sure if he was thankful or annoyed at his friend's nosy nature.

Despite your initial shock, you were polite with Wonwoo. You interacted as you used to before the two of you had gotten to know one another. Just a few nods and tight smiles. It killed him inside a little bit. He wanted to fix things; to at least get your friendship back even if he couldn't allow himself more. He would sneak glances at you as you joked and drank with your two friends, feeling a smile grace his face at your laughter. At least you were happy, he thought.

The four of you eventually ended up in one of Jungkook's many guest rooms. This one was a viewing room, as he called it. Special for whenever he wished to invite friends over for a movie. You all sat and shared some commentary at what was playing on screen. To any outsider, this would've looked like the perfect outing. And maybe it was to Mingyu and Jungkook. But the air between you and Wonwoo still felt tense, even despite the occasional nod of acknowledgement you'd make to one another whenever your eyes met.

In a very unpredictable turn of events, Mingyu had managed to get you and Wonwoo in a room alone, dragging Jungkook away under the excuse of doing an impromptu live for his fans. He knew Jungkook wouldn't miss the chance. You and Wonwoo sat next to each other in the now empty movie room, neither of you making a move. He saw you looking at your hands from his peripheral, solemn look on your face. You were usually very talkative and lively. He felt terrible at how his presence in your life had caused such a stark difference in your demeanor. So, he did what he usually wouldn't do, and spoke up first.

"I .. How have you been?"

Great way to break the silence, Wonwoo.

You sat in silence for a beat or two, "Wonwoo, it's fine. We don't have to do this. I'm already embarrassed enough as it is."

Embarrassed? Why would you be embarrassed?

"Embarrassed? At what?"

"Do I really have to say it? I thought I read things right. I thought maybe you might've maybe liked me back. I didn't .. I didn't mean to ruin our friendship over some stupid kiss.," you wouldn't look into his eyes as you spoke, even as he uncharacteristically stared at you with all his attention.

"You ... You didn't do anything wrong. I should've talked to you. Fuck. I should've apologized. I wanted to. Kiss you, I mean. I panicked. It was so soon. I didn't want to pressure you," he had gotten up now, now sitting next to you on the couch.

"Pressure me? I kissed you. Well, tried to ..." you finally turned to look at him in his new proximity. Okay, progress, "I'm sorry, I kind of had an idea of what you were going through and still pushed you. It hurt me that you froze me out like that, but if it was what you felt like you needed to do, then I understand," you said with a sad smile that didn't meet your eyes.

God, why were you so understanding? He felt like an asshole. He was an asshole. Freezing you out was not something he wanted to do to you, but the result of his cowardice. He knew he had hurt you, but your admission to it only made him feel worse.

"You didn't do anything wrong! You- you did what I wanted to do that night. What I was going to do before I backed out like a coward. I wish I'd handled things differently. I wish I'd kissed you .. I-" he was beginning to feel shy at his almost-direct admissions of his feelings towards you, but he needed to continue. He was going to continue, but you had different plans.

As per usual, you knew him better than he did himself. You knew exactly how to salvage the situation without making him open up more than he felt comfortable with doing in his current emotional state. You grabbed his face, interrupting his speech, and ..

You kissed him.

"Like that?", you'd softly asked against his lips.

It was nothing like you'd see in movies. Just a small peck accompanied by your soft hands holding onto his cheeks.

You began to pull away almost immediately, too soon for Wonwoo's comfort. But that kiss had been enough for him to finally snap into action like he should've done weeks ago.

He grabbed you this time, pulling your lips against his again, putting much more into the kiss this time.

He'd never kissed someone like this. He'd kissed many people after his breakup. Hell, he'd done far more than kissing. But none of those moments held a candle to this one. Nothing compared to your soft moans against his lips, or the feeling of your pliant back against his palm. Nothing defeated the feeling of your hands restlessly looking for a place in his body to hold on to. He kissed you with every emotion that had been piling up since you two began to really get to know each other. No, since he first began to spiral into his depressive state. There was not a single emotion in Wonwoo's body that didn't go into that kiss.

Then came other stuff.

Wonwoo hadn't really thought about the sexual aspects of his attraction to you. Other than a few of the restless nights spent alone in his room, you in mind. As he kissed you, however, he couldn't help but begin to feel aroused. You were so pretty and so so soft against his arms. You had both begun to lean down, with his body hovering over yours, holding his body weight above you as not to crush you. You kissed mindlessly for a few minutes, at some point beginning to moan messily against each other's mouths.

Your tongue eventually came out to play with his, making him lightheaded at the sudden wetness of the kiss. You both began to feel dizzy, arousal clouding your minds. Wonwoo tried to pull away, wanting to confirm if what was happening was okay with you, but you wouldn't let him. Instead you pulled him even closer, forcing him all the way on top of you, your crotches now face to face. He decided to take the risk and begin a slow grind against you, which proved rewarding as you began to mewl against his lips, allowing his tongue to roam freely inside your mouth.

Then came even more stuff.

"Wo-wonwoo, please."

God, there was no way he would make it if that's how you sounded after just some light dry humping.

He managed to actually unglue himself from you this time; eyes lidded and breath heavy.

"Baby .. let me .. can I?", he questioned, hands approaching your nether area.

You grabbed his wrist, walking him the rest of the way, nodding desperately as you pressed his hand against your clothed cunt.

"Please, yes. I need you."

He undid the drawstring from your sweats, you aiding him in lowering your sweats just below your ass.

He neared you as much as possible as he began to rub your cunt over the thin fabric of your panties, kissing and biting at your neck as you mewled at the friction. He did this for a while until he decided to bury two of his fingers inside your cunt, making sure to rub your clit lightly with his thumb. He calculated his movements, wanting to go for a slow and steady pace that would have you lightheaded.

You moaned and whined at that, your body not knowing what to do at the pleasure Wonwoo was giving you.

He began to speak against your neck, praising your beauty and the way you oh so prettyly cried for him.

"Wonwoo .. oh, fuck Wonwoo please. Please ..." he wasn't sure what you were begging for, but he wanted more of it. So he sped up, wanting nothing more than to hear your cries of pleasure as he fingered you to completion.

Upon meeting your high, you disconnected from one another, still holding a very close proximity as you shyly smiled at each other. He helped you clean up the slight mess you had made on the couch under you, pulling your sweats all the way back up and helping you get on your feet. Neither of you said anything as he guided you out of Jungkook's apartment, not bothering to say goodbye to your friends. You both knew what you wanted with just a few looks at one another.

You then found yourselves in Mingyu's car. How Mingyu was going to get home, Wonwoo didn't know nor care. Payback for meddling, Wonwoo guessed. All he wanted now was to take you home and show you how much you meant to him.

He had his left hand on the wheel while the other held your hand over the console. You both felt giddy at the small displays of affection you'd been showing each other, sharing shy smiles and blushing at catching the other staring. It was kind of funny considering your current destination. It was all mostly wordless until your fast arrival to Mingyu and Wonwoo's shared apartment, where you both finally stopped to speak before entering the door.

"Wonwoo, wait," you stopped him before he was able to put his key in the lock.

"What's wrong?"

You seemed uneasy. Maybe this was too soon? Had he gone too far by what he did in Jungkook's house? Fuck. Okay, maybe fingering you in your friend's house while your friends were in the other room right after confessing to you (did he even confess ??) wasn't the best idea for a reconciliation. Maybe he should'v-

"Are you sure about this? I .. I don't wanna pressure you ..."

You were far too considerate of his feelings for his own good. But he didn't care about his feelings right now. He cared about yours. Because if you were happy, then he was happy. He just wanted you.

He turned his body to face you, grabbed both of your hands and squeezed lovingly. He no longer felt that sense of anxiousness when speaking his feelings to you. He felt at ease, and he wanted you to also.

"I'm sure. I want you. Anything you'll give me. If you want to go past that door and just let me hold your hand, I'll take it. If you want me to drive you back home, I'll do it. If you want to tell me off for making you wait for me to grow the balls to show you how I felt, I'll understand that too. Forget about my pace. It's been enough about me. I want to think about you. It's all about you," he finished his little speech feeling not an ounce of bashfulness, but rather an uncharacteristic sense of relief. He felt more than content at freely telling you how he was feeling.

You smiled up at him. "It's always about you for me, Wonwoo."

It took a bit of convincing from you, really. Repeating over and over again pleas and words of affirmation to ease his mind. He felt bad. He did say this was all about you. Which is why he'd insistently denied you when you first walked across the door, hand in hand, and immediately begged to suck his dick. He was caught off guard at first. He wanted to take care of you for once, not the other way around. You'd argued that he already had, insisting that he'd be doing you a favour by letting you get his cock in your mouth. Now, that .. that had gotten an involuntary reaction out of him. He couldn't help himself. You were a pretty girl - now his pretty girl - practically begging to get his dick wet. Batting your eyelashes at him and running your hands up and down his chest, muttering words such as "you'll let me take care of you, won't you?", or "i just wanna make you feel good," or his favorite "just a little bit, baby, want it so bad. been dreaming about it .."

That's how he now had you on your knees as he stood with his back against his front door, hands holding your hair out of your face as you tortured him with your tongue. You had prepared him by rubbing his dick for a minute or so, then moving onto kitten licking his tip and running your tongue ever so slowly up and down the protruding veins. You were taking your time, clearly enjoying his stuttered breaths above you.

You finally wrapped your mouth around him, sucking and licking at the tip, making all thought in his mind leave him immediately. He threw his head back against the wall at the pressure and warmth of your mouth, groaning out your name.

"Fuck .. just like that. Shit, I-fuck," there was no proper sentence that could leave his mouth as you fully enveloped his cock in your mouth, moaning around it.

Then he made the mistake of looking down, staring directly into your eyes, which were rolled back in pleasure, brows furrowed in concentration as you gave him your best performance. He hadn't known pleasure like this in ages, staring down at your pretty face as you lost yourself in the pleasure of the weight of his cock on your tongue.

You continued like this, doing everything that seemed to get a reaction out of him until drawing him almost to completion.

"Shit, baby, I'm gonna cum. You gotta- fuck. Baby, wait. Wanna fuck you ..." he tried to stop you, not wanting to cut the night short before he could get you as close as physically possible to him, your walls warmly wrapped around him. The thought did not help matters, as he felt his end approach even sooner. You also did not seem to care, as you fastened your movements and moaned even louder against him, vibrations triggering his impending orgasm. You swallowed every bit he gave you, humming at the taste.

You must be evil, he thought, watching you continue to lightly suck and lick at him even past completion, not caring that he half-heartedly tried to push you away from the slight overstimulation. When you finally pulled away, he held your hands in order to get you back up to your full height, eyes glued to your lips. He couldn't help himself. He felt depraved at the thought, but he needed to taste you and the remnants of himself twirling in your tongue. So he did what any sensible man would do, and shoved his tongue in your mouth, intertwining yours and his as he sucked his remaining juices out of your mouth and gave them back to you as he dragged your tongue back and forth. You moaned loudly into his mouth, growing restless at the lack of pleasure where you needed him most.

You pulled away, and wordlessly gave him eyes that could only mean one thing. Your eyes always got to him. One look and he'd give you whatever you wanted, so he promptly held your hand once more and led you to his room, laying you down on his bed and slowly undressing you. He wanted to savour every part of your body he'd been dying to see. Every article of clothing he removed, he caressed the skin behind. He faced you away from him and felt you up from behind, running his hands up and down your body as you pressed yourself even more against him, dizzy at the pleasure of his hands against you. He fondled your breasts and ass, wanting to commit them to memory. You moaned at the way he touched you, enticing him to continue. After a while of worshiping your body, he laid you back down, your body now facing him, and undressed himself.

He felt a strong sense of pride at the moan the sight of his bare chest pulled out of you. Your hands drew themselves towards him as you ran them up and down his chest, forming goosebumps anywhere your fingertips graced. He finally lowered himself down and pressed your chests together, wanting to be as close as possible.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, as if it was a secret no one could ever know, "You're all mine now. Never letting you go again", he began to grind his bare length against you, now hard again against your folds.

You whined at his actions, mind clouded by his words of affection. "Nonu ... please. I need it. Need you, just- Argh! Fuck ..." he swiftly entered you, interrupting your pleas for him.

God, you felt so tight and warm around him. Your body so pliant and soft against his. He had never felt more bliss than when you arched your back and pressed your tits against his chest, harshly digging your nails on his shoulders as you moaned out his name.

Pleasure overtook his mind, making him wax poetic at you endlessly, letting out his deepest of feelings for you.

"Want you always. Can't breathe without you."

"Never wanna be away from you again. You're everything."

"Gonna keep you ... keep you close to me. Just like this ..."

Then came something not even he expected himself to utter.

"L-love you. Fuck. So much. Is it too soon? I love you. Never felt like t-fuck .. like this before."

His words seemed to have an instant effect on you, as you tightened impossibly harder around him, crying his name as your orgasm suddenly hit you. The tightening of your walls, along with knowing the effect he had on you, brought Wonwoo to his end almost immediately after, claiming his orgasm on your stomach as he pulled out with a high whine of your name.

A few minutes of cleaning you up later and Wonwoo found the both of you under his covers, you laying your head on his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around one another, softly running his hands up and down your arm. No words exchanged between the two of you.

As per usual, you broke the silence, turning yourself to face his side while still in his hold. He mirrored your actions, holding you even closer as you stared into each other's eyes, shy smiles on your faces.

"I love you too. It's not too soon. I love you, Wonwoo."

Your words took his breath away once more. What he had confessed in the throes of passion was being reciprocated. He hadn't shared the three words with anyone ever since his break up. His breakup, which had been the furthest thing from his mind ever since he had realized his feelings for you.

You fell asleep like that; holding each other tightly and muttering words of affection at each other every so often until sleep won you over. Wonwoo had never had such peaceful sleep, having never had the pleasure of holding someone he cared so much about in his sleep.

The news broke out quickly. Not to the public, of course, but to Mingyu, who had found you in bed the next morning when he'd noticed your absences last night, rushing home worried that maybe his plan to get you two to talk had backfired. Safe to say that Mingyu smugly took credit over your reconciliation (he might've deserved maybe a 15% of the credit). Then the news broke out to the 97 liners, who happily welcomed Wonwoo back into the group under the name of honorary 97-liner. Then his group mates found out, along with yours. They were all very accepting, having noticed your feelings for one another before you even did. Finally, the news broke out to your shared company. This was the trickiest one, but your insistence in the validity of your love for one another was able to triumph over any obstacles.

It had now been a few months since that fateful night, the words I love you being uttered between the two of you daily. Even as you worked your busy idol schedules and had distance put between you every once in a while, your relationship prospered, giving Wonwoo a new sense of what being loved truly was. He no longer felt like his ex had been right about him being unlovable. You had taught him to know better, while he showed you the same care in return.

Wonwoo no longer winced at the mentions of his 'pre-debut girlfriend', but even laughed along at the memes his fans made about their favorite idol being taken. Now knowing that, yes, he was taken, but had something even better now; you.

[transvarmint]

We're starting to realize with the recent hostility towards Imane Khelif, just how much of transphobia is rooted in intersexism, rather than the other way around.

Like... according to these people, the fact that Imane allegedly has elevated levels of testerstorone makes her a man. Even if she has XX chromosomes, a uterus, vagina, etc.

However, if you were afab and you take testosterone to transition, you will never be a man and will always be a woman, no matter how much testosterone you have.

So it can't be about having been afab, because [allegedly] having higher levels of T can eliminate you from womanhood. But it can't be about to T itself either, because taking T doesn't make you a real man.

So, clearly, the only answer here is that it's the intersexism. Its the fact that Imane might naturally have elevated levels of T. It's the fact that someone might be intersex, that drives the hostility. It's the very concept that someone may innately have sex characteristics that don't align with the norm.

I think a lot of perisex trans folks believe that intersexism stems from transphobia first and foremost. But I would posit that intersexism, and the hatred and disgust with innately non-normative bodies, is the driving factor for a lot of transphoba.

Intersex bodies, in the minds of intersexists, are an aberration that, at best, and be forcefully "corrected" against the will of intersex people. They are a mistake, a disorder. Intersex bodies are mutilated without question, to make them as close to perisex bodies as possible.

So for trans people, especially those who medically transition, to intentionally make our bodies non-normative, in the eyes of society is aligning ourselves with the aberration, the mistake, the disorder of intersex bodies. We are declaring that non-normative bodies are not only acceptable, but desirable.

This is why that allyship to intersex people needs to be our highest priority as perisex trans people. Especially because even as gender transition becomes more accepted in the mainstream medical complex, intersex mutilation is still commonly practiced and recommended above all else. The forced normalization of intersex bodies is seen as a priority, even among the same professionals who would support medical transition later in life.

All this to say - consider intersexism not as incidental to transphoba, but rather as a root issue in and if itself. It is a form of systemic oppression that stands on its own, and from which much of transphobia derives from.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for poisoning a child over mountain dew?

For context, I (17) have a developed a slight addiction to mountain dew over quarantine. it's one of my favorite soft drinks. Every month I buy a case of it with my own money when my parents do their monthly grocery shopping and that is my allotted stashe for the month. However, I've noticed for about two years now that my stashe is running out sooner than I expected, the first few times I've simply thought I miss calculated but later I suspected it was being stolen after I kept rigorous track of how much I drank. I told my parents but they said I shouldn't get so worked up over it, and if I really wanted to keep it safe I should keep it locked up somewhere. So I did. Afterwards, almost weekly I've had our maid/housekeeper(a distant cousin of my mom's- we do pay her) ask me for my soda. I suspected that she might've been the soda stealer so out of spite I refused to give her from "my" stashe, instead offering to buy some/give her the money and she refused. Even after that, a couple months later I've noticed it running out sooner again. I pointed it out to my parents and they did nothing still. I hid my keys. It stopped the stealing for a few weeks but then it started again. I've confronted her about it but she denies it and blames me for for suspecting her when she does so much for us. And my mom refuses to discuss it with her either, saying I'm making such a big deal out of something like soda and that I probably miscalculated anyways. I've taken photographic evidence of my shit going missing (taking a photo before going to school and coming home with a bottle missing) and still she say to "let it go". At this point, it's not even about the soda for me. It's about the fact I brought this shit with my own money and it's being stolen EVEN AFTER I TRIED EVERYTHING TO PREVENT IT and its been going on for TWO YEARS. And I can't help but feel paranoid and suspect her whenever any of my other possessions start disappearing.

Here comes the poisoning part. I've recently developed some gastrointestinal issues, so I have to take prescribed laxatives. I've had enough of my shit being stolen and I've decided whoever steals it needs to shit themselves and maybe then they'll stop. I marked out a few bottles and carefully opened them and mixed in the laxative(About half dose per bottle) before resealing them thoroughly. I put them in front of all the other non-laced drinks so they're the easiest ones to grab. Sure enough, they've been stolen. And a few days later she comes to my mom complaining that her grandson keeps getting diarrhea and she has no idea why. I told her maybe she shouldn't feed a <10 yr old mountain dew and she was like, "How do you know it was the dew that caused it?" I just shrugged and told her I had a hunch, but with the way she stared at me I think she understood what I had did. Later on my mom yelled at me for pulling that stunt, and I was honestly sick of her shit and told her next time I'm mixing in rat poison and I wont even be labeling the laced ones. like. stop taking my shit without asking. especially shit i brought with my own money.

What are these acronyms?

[superkirbylover]

saw a post talking about ableism in cartoons. overall i agree with the message of the post, but the points made and said feel really infantilizing.

for context, i am disabled and many members of my family are as well. this is all drawn from experiences.

there is something to be said about exclusively designing characters who are insane and crazy with a form of lazy eye. there is something to be said about portraying disabled characters as incapable and stupid. there is something to be said about how these tropes continue to push the idea that disabled folk are "other" and are treated poorly. however, the post and OP made a few comparisons i really didn't sit well with.

they claimed the design of old man mcgucket from gravity falls is ableist for giving him wall-eyes as a way to portray how crazy he is. however, the post failed to mention that he's also a mechanic. he's a genuinely smart character with real accomplishments that happens to be crazy and disabled via his eye condition. he has depth. i don't associate his craziness with his disability, and it feels ableist to me to exclusively focus on the eyes and ignore how he isn't just "the crazy guy." i understand wanting to avoid stereotypes, especially harmful ones. however there are real people who sometimes fall under these stereotypes. as a kid, i fell under the stereotype of flapping my hands when i was happy or excited. and yes, there are people who condemn and discourage autistic folk from doing this because it's "stereotypical." that feels insanely ableist to me.

there is something to be said about trying to avoid harmful stereotypes of disabled folk, but i feel like people tend to overcorrect. derpy hooves is an excellent example; rainbow dash gets very frustrated with her in season 2 and is a bit rude. her voice was silly and she was oblivious. because some parents called and found this offensive, there was a redub and re-animated version of the scene featuring her. however, this version is infinitely more ableist to me. it's no secret derpy is disabled, and i personally resonate with her. to me, she is autistic. on top of missing social queues and having a hard time understanding things occasionally, her lazy eye can impare her visually. it is an undeniable fact that sometimes, disabilities will frustrate other people. my autism frustrates my friends and family sometimes. this isnt rooted in ableism. to me, its much like how non-disabled folk will get frustrated with each other. people should treat others, including disabled folk well and avoid getting mad at things they cannot control. however, erasing the fact people do get frustrated with autistic folk feels infantilizing. people will get frustrated with me. sometimes i do things that are objectively irritating. i don't want this erased. it's a part of being human. what i don't want is the irritation being used as a justification to treat disabled folk as sub-human. this isn't what happens at all in the scene. now, in a later season with derpy and rarity, i have many issues with the scene and how derpy and rarity are portrayed, so i do think there is something to be said there.

as long as the character has depth and is portrayed with respect, much like a person, then personally i don't find issues. i am personally tired of people overcorrecting for ableism in media. there is some correcting to do, don't get me wrong. but i don't want my disabilities washed down to the point where negative experiences with my disabilities are erased. they are important to my and many other folks identities as disabled folk. i don't want my experiences to be sanitized.

[olderthannetfic]

Until I read the comments on that one post I had no idea the Bechdel Test was a joke and wasn't supposed to be a serious measuring stick by which you gauged if something was feminist or not. Everywhere I'd ever heard it brought up, it was brought up as a very serious thing, and it was a failure of media if it didn't pass it. I remember the debate about Mako Mori from Pacific Rim and if she was a character you were "allowed" to like as a progressive person despite the fact that Pacific Rim doesn't pass the Bechdel Test, the discourse, the discussion of if the director was sexist for not writing in another woman for her to chat with about non-men related stuff, the camp of people trying to insist that having a fully realized character arc and being as developed as any of the male leads = good writing even if she doesn't talk to another girl...

And I've also had the remark about my writing not passing the test, just not to my face. I searched my fanfic's name once, curious to see if anyone was discussing it outside of tumblr and AO3, and found a Tiktok complaining about it not passing the Bechdel Test. The top comment was "motherfucker YOU don't pass the test but we still watch your ass". I cackled and moved on, but neither the commenter, poster, nor I had any awareness this wasn't Feminist Media Critique 101 theory and was, in fact, a goof.

Right now there's a segment of fandom debating if Blue Eye Samurai is feminist since when Mizu and Akemi talk, they do bring up men, since, y'know. Women aren't considered people with rights in their era in Japan and thus it's something they mention instead of only talking about being cool girlboss badasses who never bring up gender. If something doesn't pass the Bechdel Test, a smug segment of the internet high-fives itself and congratulates one another on being More Feminist Than Thou.

They then get really angry if you disagree, even though by this metric, Sleeping Beauty (the original animated one, where Aurora has only 16 lines of dialogue) is more feminist than Blue Eye Samurai.

--

*DYING*

Okay, so, nonnie....

Dykes to Watch Out For (1983-2008) was a long-running comic and major piece of lesbian media. I grew up buying compiled volumes at the bookstore. To be honest, that kind of 90s-ish lesbian culture isn't really my scene despite me being bi, but it was very nice to have this slice of life-y somewhat realistic, occasionally somewhat parody, look at the queer communities around me. It's up there with Tales of the City for me in terms of being a window into a particular culture and time and place.

If anybody is interested in queer history, in addition to looking up factual info, I think a read of the complete Dykes would give a really good overview of how people were thinking about things and what issues came up a lot. You'll see things like Barnes & Noble increasingly putting feminist bookstores out of business in the 90s, attitudes towards porn in lesbian circles—all kinds of cultural issues of the day.

I drifted away as I got later in my teens and found more genre fiction I cared about, but at one point, this comic was a very welcome antidote to the glurgey coming out stories that made up a lot of the more realistic media.

Anyway, here's the comic itself, reproduced in its entirety because I think it's important to actually understand the context.

This is from 1985, so the era of Rambo, Conan, and Death Wish, each of which you can see being made fun of here. It's based on Bechdel's friend Liz Wallace's actual rule for seeing movies.

That's it. That's the origin of this whole stupid test.

"LOL, fuck 80s action movies". That's it. That's the joke.

The fact that blockbusters still routinely fail to pass in the 2020s is shameful, but that was never the point of the strip.

[crooked-wasteland]

I'm very much looking forward to your Stolitz/HB is a bad musical essay. I've had my own thoughts on HH being subpar as far as a musical goes but never really felt like I had the knowledge on musicals as a narrative style nor as a music genre to do it much justice; excited to see you tackle the topic in regards to HB! 🫡

I absolutely understand the hesitation. It isn't like I personally have a masters in Musical Theory, but I think we as a generation have had musical theories subliminally inculcated into our psyche from the sheer amount of exposure that we can understand what makes a good musical and recognize when those qualities are simply not there. No one has reservations talking about how bad Wish was as a musical, and what I am finding in my own deep-dive for this essay is that Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel suffer the same issues as Wish. The lead in music being Sam Haft who is not a musical theatre composer and frankly doesn't understand how musical theatre functions on a fundamental level.

For a small preview of a major point in my essay that I plan on expanding much more, Helluva and Hazbin completely lack an understanding of musical diegesis. This may be a new term for some. Diegesis is most often referenced in how music interplays within a movie or film.

Most of the time the music is not diegetic to the story. When we have big moments in our media with that swelling emotional music, we don't think that there is an orchestra just off screen playing this music for these characters. We are aware the music is an external component to the story. In this way, the music is most often not diegetic to the narrative.

Of course that isn't always the case. Take for example Guardians of the Galaxy and how the films utilize their soundtrack. Starting the movie off, we hear Come and Get Your Love as we would hear any other soundtrack, only for Peter Quill to remove his headphones and the music can be heard playing faintly over them. That makes the song Diegetic.

Another example is Shrek. All of the pop songs in the films are non-diegetic, but there are diegetic songs in, say, Shrek 2 with the Fairy Godmother singing Holding Out for a Hero.

To pull back to more direct inspiration, Happy Day in Hell is nothing more than an embarrassing parody of Beauty and the Beast's opening number Belle. However, Belle is non-diegetic. The Townspeople are singing their thoughts and feelings, but that is not what literally is happening. And Belle turning at the end isn't supposed to be taken as literally the town coming to a halt just to follow her and talk about how weird she is, but that the town as a collective sees her as an outsider and she gets that sixth sense sort of feeling of people judging her. Because they are, they just don't say anything. That is a key crux for the film.

Every single song in Helluva Boss and Hazbin are diegetic. We know this because Vaggie tells Charlie not to sing and we are told by Angel Dust explicitly that Charlie is, in fact, physically singing. Stolas' song ends with Stella telling Stolas to stop singing. Striker, Verosika, Moxxie, Stolas, Fizzarolli, Glitz & Glam, and Asmodeus all sing as a part of a literal performance.

In fact, Hazbin goes out of its way to shoehorn in-universe reasons to have a song rather than just allowing the world to exist in that heightened reality. Additionally, by having the songs explicitly being legitimate songs in the world, we actually face more issues with the world building because on one hand Vaggie is begging Charlie to not sing and is struggling with the secondhand embarrassment, only for the denizens of Hell to join in? Except the world has established that singing is not something people just do. It is the one time the criticism of "Why is everyone singing" and "How do you all know the words?" Are legitimately valid questions.

This all screams insecure and shows a clear discomfort with the genre of musical theatre as a whole. There is no depth of understanding how music in musicals function, just like Wish.

That isn't even touching on how San Haft's lyricism is identical to Wish's worst numbers with how he just borks the internal structure and meter of his songs.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - it was a pretty darn good time, frankly

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Feb 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 12fin - Everyone looked like they were having a lot of fun in the fight sequences. I’m very happy for them. I’m not surprised they shot Khem and Chart. A little shocked it wasn’t also Yai, TBH.

I found this final episode rushed. According to rumors, The Sign was originally slated to be 14 eps, and it probably should’ve been. And I don’t say that often about Thai BL. But we all knew it was getting too bloated for its britches, so I'm not surprised they fumbled the ending. For me personally, it just wasn't that bad. It was fine and I was fine with it.

Tho, Billy does not look good with facial fur, messes up those gorgeous angles.

I was ultimately amused that the solution to the mythology thread was simply to talk to the river god and persuaded him to give up... off screen. It felt very old school wuxia. Or like Aeschylus or something. I did adore the stinger, Saint was basically like “I want wings too”. 

FINAL THOUGHTS

This show is literally everything (except straight) all at once. It's BL, queer, band of brothers, romcom, erotica, PNR, fated mates, police procedural, fantasy, mystery, suspense, and slasher. It’s the king of genre mash-up chaos. Sure, it's madness but there is genius in it. Was it a crazy unhinged mess +1 roll for damage? Yes. Yes it was. Did it manage to hold all those tangled threads together? No it did not. Was it also a charming, sexy, engaging, non-stop piece of entertainment? Sure thing. I think this show is basically my KinnPorsche, and frankly I’ve been chasing that dragon naga since KP aired. Is it perfect? No. But it was balls to the wall FUN and that gets a 9/10 from me.

I'm thinking of doing a full recap review (partly because I have so many great screen shots.)

Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube grey) ep 10-11 of 12 - Since this series is following the yaoi so closely, I knew these were the separation eps. (Also I knew with would be a soft non-doom ep 11, Japan rarerly does these.) I like that they used it to show improve communication and development in all relationships, but, frankly, TayNew are just best when they are TayNew together on screen. So yeah. Let’s keep them back together, please?

Meanwhile, TayNew gifted us a gorgeous loving sweet sex scene. Thanks OG for doing us a solid. 

I wanna add, it sure is fun to see New play as soft and vulnerable character, I feel like he hasn’t done that since SOTUS. 

(Read all about distribution issues here.)

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 12fin - 1/3 of this is a sweet romance about a student doctor falling in love with a student chef, and the rest of it is utter dross. Look the OffGun bits were GREAT.. In fact, I think they’re better AS A PAIR in this show than in any of their other BLS. And I'm a hard sell on any OffGun being better than PickRome. Saying that, how can I review a show where I could only tolerate 1/3 of it? Because I didn’t like any other aspect of this show, no other pairs and no other plots. That gives me: 9/10 for the OffGun bits, 5/10 for everything else. Frankly it probably should be an 8 but I gotta go with my gut and it's upset about this so 7/10. Sorry boys. It’s GMMTV’s fault. Your heart was in this show, mine wasn’t. 

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 4 of 12 - These two are so good at making heart eyes at each other. It’s ridiculous. They don’t need any cartoon images or noises. Moot crush but "I wanna flirt and court more" is so flipping awesome. I love this for them… and us. 

1000 Years Old ep 2 of 12 - It’s very silly and we have been gifted with the dorkiest vampire ever. But... the smell thing makes me so happy. And I like that the vamp uses chan/nai or tan = v old fashioned. Nahlak. I love our ghost girl. Did you notice she wasn’t in the room with them but they left an empty chair for her? Also nahlak.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Perfect Propose (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 5 of 6 - Kai was pretty much just “you're a workaholic but I basically married you whether you like it or not.” SMOOCH. What can I say? I'm a sucker for this dynamic.

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - How is this show so cute? How do they both love and hurt each other so much. They are both just scared of loosing each other. Gah.

Unknown (Taiwan Sat Youku YouTube) 1 of 12 eps - Youku dropped the first ep to their YouTube channel but I doubt we can expect that to continue. Still, it was nice to be able to watch it in a convenient way. I enjoyed it. But I am cautious about it. Of course this is possibly two of my favorite tropes of all time (stepbrothers or a variation + hyung romance). So I’m looking forward to the romantic thread, but from the gritty style, it feels a lot more like a Taiwanese short. Which means it could go very dark and may not end happy. 

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 7 of 10 - I just don’t know if the main couple should be a couple. But when they finally get around to talking to each other, they sure are lovely. Also how great is it to see a uke initiate a kiss? Even if it’s not a very good kiss. 

My Strawberry Film (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 2 of 8 - I am still not sure about this one. I am not contesting its quality, just saying it’s not for me. Also I’m not wild about what amounts to basically a redo of everything that already happened in the first episode from a different perspective. I know it’s a tall order with Japan, but I would like (when it’s a short series) for each new installment to actually move the plot (such as it is) along in someway. Am I asking too much?

It's done but I have no time

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have any spare time. 2024 is crazy busy for me so far.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Vietnam, it's on YouTube. I will give it a try when I have a window of time.

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - A Burmese BL? @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will give it a watch.

It's airing but...

Dead Friend Forever (Thai iQIYI) - rumors are it's interesting but full of unlikable characters. I'm waiting to know how it ends.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far. Ends next week TF.

Time the series (Tue Gaga/YT) 10 eps - dropped it at ep 4.

A Secretly Love (Thai WeTV) - I tried but I can't get into my WeTV account anymore and I'm way too lazy to figure it out. Should I bother to go grey for it?

To Be Continued (Thai C3 Thailand YT) - High school sweethearts who had a bad break up reunite when both of them have full time jobs but coming out is still a problem. You can watch this on YT but it has no Eng Subs.

Next Week Looks Like This:

We're light on content right now, but frankly I'm so busy with work I don't really mind.

3/6 Born to be Y (Thai ????) 10 eps - 14 contestants who audition to compete in Born To Be Y, a program that searches for the best couple of the year to work together on a giant project. Described as semi-reality series. So I probably won't bother.

3/7 Deep Night (Thai iQiyi) 10 eps - Multiple romances set in a host clubs. Nice to see First back on my screen but this is not my favorite setting.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

The eyes have it.

Your random BL moment brought to you by my ult-bias being a hyung smartass to his maknae.

(Last week)

[butch-bakugo]

First off, read the very last line of text at the very fucking bottom of my post and ask me that rhetorical question again.

Second off, I AM BISEXUAL. I AM NOT A LESBIAN. I identified as a lesbian for a fair portion of my life and I think a lot of us still hold the very lesbophobic and mysognistic belief that all lesbians are terfs/transphobes which is bigoted and bs. It speaks VOLUMES that you immediately assume anyone criticizing this weird expectation is a cis woman lesbian. You have a little lesbophobia you need to work on there, bud.

"can't assume good faith" My sister in Christ I am transfem. Shocker. I am acting in good faith towards my own fucking community.

Lastly, and finally, your entire blog is EXCLUSIVELY you fucking complaining and making weird assumptions about anyone who dares to mention the simple fact that Transmascs/trans men do not benefit from cis male privilege or mysogny and are infact affected by it. I'm sorry but in my store, your weird transphobic victim card is declined.

Please get a hobby that isn't harassing other trans people.

EDIT: I JUST FUCKING NOTICED I SAID I WAS BI IN THE POST ITSELF. LITTERALLY SAID, VER BATIM " IM NOT EVEN A LESBIAN, IM (A)BI". THIS DUMBASS DIDNT EVEN FUCKING READ IT THEY READ THE FIRST FUCKING SENTENCE AND WENT OFF LMAO GET OUT OF HERE

" you as a lesbian" Ah there it is... That lesbophobia just jumped out didn't it?

Quoting me and didn't even fucking read the whole thing, get out of here lol

You know what? Controversial opinion: expecting every single post that talks about not being attracted to men, hating men or otherwise talking about lesbianism/bisapphism/feminism to explicitly state somewhere that it's trans inclusive or they mean cis men when they are talking about men and not trans women is an entitled and lesbophobic/mysognistic expectation.

I said men. I mean men. Not trans women or else we would of fucking said trans women. The fact your first assumption on a post about lesbianism and not being attracted to men is to assume the op is terfy/transmysognistic is just a quieter and more entitled form of the lesbophobic shit that is "all lesbians are terfs and all terfs are lesbians" bullshit. Assuming lesbianism and feminism are inherently transmysognistic or have the inherent possibility of being transmysognistic is more of a self report and straight up mysogny than any actual potential bigotry on lesbian's and feminist's part. I'm not even a lesbian, I'm a bi manwoman and even I fucking know that.

Use some context clues or admit your mysognistic and expect women to constantly add a million disclaimers to their feminism that doesn't need to be there so you can defang it and middle the point with shit that's obvious and doesn't need to be stated. If you don't see any (ACTUAL) terf dog whistles or the op is LITTERALLY FUCKING TRANS, INCLUDING TRANSMASC, immediately assuming all sapphicness has a chance of being "terfy" is mysognistic and lesbophobic. It's a bigoted assumption.

Many would argue racism in the gay man community is SIGNIFICANTLY more common yet y'all do not expect every post about liking men, fighting toxic masculinity or not being attracted to women as a man to add a little disclaimer at the bottom that hes cool with poc. You only expect that of cis women and afab trans people. That's mysognistic and transandrophobic. They dont need anymore work. Let them talk about feminism without expecting a scrolling disclaimer at the bottom to comfort your weird guilt and pick me bullshit that she doesn't hate alllll men and she knows good ones are out there and she just means cis men not transmascs or transfems or any trans people and she's a girls girl. Bruh.

Leave her tf alone and let her say men. Let her pick the bear. Engage with feminism outside of Tumblr and terfs I'm FUCKING BEGGING YOUUUUUUU YOU THINK VAUINA ART IS A DOG WHISTLE YOU'VE LOST THE FUCKIN PLOT, MY GUY

- a transfem AND Transmasc intersex person. Fuck off with the allegations.

[communistkenobi]

I think a large problem with how we got to this stage of "man is gender neutral" discourse is that a lot of queer people refuse to engage with feminism. I've been seeing it brought up a lot recently, but it's true. Someone who doesn't see a problem with referring to a trans woman as "dude" probably also doesn't believe in patriarchy to begin with. We need to start doing feminism 101 on tumblr again.

I think this is true and I also think this issue extends to the fact that white liberal queerness is the societally accepted conception of lgbtq issues broadly - the fact that pride flags litter the windowsills of small businesses and banks, that lgbtq merchandise is its own market, that western conceptions of gayness and especially transness are the internationally imposed norm (eg, we are pathological exceptions to cishetero society and should be accepted on the grounds that we are scientifically proven to be legitimate by medical and psychiatric institutions, presented with an awkward flair of “okay so we’re not saying being transgender is a mental illness, but it is caused by a mental illness” + framing of gay people as “they’re just like straight people! they can get married and have children just like you!”). Many many queer people of colour have pointed out how much this predominate western framing of lgbtq identity as a “white person thing” (partially because white queer people are just as racist as non-queer white people, also because of aforementioned western imperialism) puts them at odds with their own communities, giving people in those communities a “rational” reason to oppose lgbtq rights on the grounds of resisting western imperialism. Israel’s pinkwashing is a particularly instructive and stark example of this, positioning lgbtq freedom as being contingent on genociding and destroying Palestine - this doesn’t mean it’s okay to be homophobic obviously, but this sort of imperial imposition of queerness as part of the package of western domination creates the conditions for “rationally opposing” lgbtq rights and equality within colonized communities and ultimately causes intersecting levels of harm for lgbtq people in those communities. You can read decolonizing trans/gender 101 by b binaohan if you want more on the subject, I’ve only read the intro so far but it was very instructive (thank you @/molsno for spreading this link around! - she also has a post with a bunch of transfeminist writings if you want more of that). There's also this video by FD Signifier about Dave Chappelle's transphobia that talks about anti-Blackness in white trans/queer spaces and the intense homophobia and transphobia Black lgbtq people face as a result of this that I found insightful if you want to listen to something instead

ANYWAY, all to say - I think the larger problem is that queerness in western contexts (which tumblr is firmly situated in) is overwhelmingly white and liberal, which means that even if these spaces were to incorporate feminist frameworks in their analysis of oppression, they would be incorporated as liberal feminist frameworks, which are fundamentally transmisogynistic and racist, and fundamentally attached to the imperial project of the west (I recently read this article called Beyond the Coloniality of Gender by Alex Adamson discussing some of the problems with western feminism. they demonstrate this through a case study on western feminist objections to genital cutting in certain African countries + analysis of decolonial trans and intersex feminisms more broadly - if you click "show document" in the upper right hand corner of the page I linked it allows you to access the full article).

I’ve always struggled to articulate the exact issue we're discussing, because at a certain point a lack of knowledge is not to be blamed -the larger issue at hand is that the western political + economic apparatus has incorporated queer assimilation into its project. This does not mean that queer people in the west are safe from homophobia or transphobia (see: current transphobic hysteria across North America and UK in particular), but it does mean that white western queer people have incredible political and rhetorical leverage to dominate these conversations using white liberal analytical frameworks, which can only lead to transmisogynist and white supremacist conclusions about the nature of oppression. I think the only way out of these path-dependent "everyone is oppressed by patriarchy" conversations is a larger decolonial political and social project - part of which necessarily incorporates feminist analysis, but feminist analyses that are decolonial, marxist, and transfeminist in nature, and the only way these frameworks can be comprehensively adopted is through a larger decolonial turn