#but when i talk about it without being asked to people sometimes respond as if i'm boasting. even when i downplay it!!!

[acciocriativity]

->You're hyper independent || Ateez Reactions || Maknae Line

Genre: fluff, angst for Jongho’s part, slice of life AU

Warnings: mentions of relatives' death on Mingi’s part; mentions overworking, lack of self care and unhealthy perfectionism on San’s part; this IS more heavy in general than the first part, I'm so sorry. I don't incentivize any of the behaviors depicted in this.

N/A: This is a very real trauma response that real people have. However, I tried to keep it light, humorous, and focus on the support and love the reader received from the boys in different contexts instead of the actual trauma triggering situation that cause the trauma response. If I, in any way, offend people who have this trauma response, I'm open to learning and editing this, if necessary.

N/A ²: This is a gender neutral! reader in all of them, but Mingi’s part.

Ateez Masterlist

Hyung Line version

Choi San (최산): He’ll take care of you, whether you like it or not

Choi San wasn’t your husband, yet at least. The engagement talk was at its peak, and you knew a proposal wasn’t far off. Still, if any of your friends saw the two of you on a normal day, they’d ask where you found such an amazing house husband, and you wouldn’t be able to respond. He wasn’t your house husband, nothing against it, but you wouldn’t be able to be with a man that hadn’t the same ambition with his work as you did. Well, maybe San didn’t have this hunger to be at the top like you, but he was determined and passionate, striving to be his best every day and finding new ways to grow, and that was enough for you.

Although he had his own fair share of work schedule, his work from home was flexible and task-based rather than time-based, so with his efficiency, he managed to have more free time than you. This led to your current arrangement. It was rare for you to be at home if it wasn’t on a weekend, so it was a seamless transition for him to live with you and contribute a bigger portion of house labor. His presence was something dangerous because you started to think about what you would do without him in your life. He added instead of subtracting from your energy and time, which sometimes seemed like a surreal dream.

You had a full-time job, a good apartment, a car, and a whole social life you had to manage. There was so much you wanted to do with your life, with your free time, that you were used to the feeling of being hungry throughout the day or dizziness from the lack of hydration. The only way you managed to rest was when you were asleep. Otherwise, you felt like you were losing time. This was your normal day-to-day self, what you were used to, and yes, you knew it was bad.

When you met San, your health was at its lowest. It was normal for him to be worried, and your friends and family were. But he was the one that took action, a man you barely knew at the time. All his attempts were kindly rejected by you, and then you hated the thought of him, of all people, helping you. Not only you didn’t need it, but you’d hate to be a bother.

But San was as stubborn as he was beautiful. He reminded you religiously to drink water, cooked healthy meals for you even on weekends, bought groceries for you when you didn’t have the time for so many weeks you were truly embarrassed by yourself, took care of your plants when you were away on work trips and so much more.

It was all so weird. You constantly waited for the other shoe to drop. For the time when he’d be tired of this constant routine of caring for you. Your toxic self was waiting for the confirmation that you were too much for anyone to handle, that nobody could be with you and keep up, that you were the problem and that was the reason you could never be in a relationship for long.

But San proved you wrong, again and again, and you couldn’t even be mad at him for it.

Song Mingi (송민기): Turns out, he’s not just a silly little guy

Mingi was your younger brother best friend, and there were times you hated him for it. As the elder daughter, you took on the biggest load of everything in your house up until you left for college in another state. Until that moment, you had to be silent and grateful about it all. There was no throwing yourself on the ground to get your way or crying yourself out of your “duties”, which included but not limited to cooking all the meals for yourself and your brother, making the grocery store list and buying everything yourself once you were old enough, cleaning the entire house yourself, which wasn’t the initial agreement, and babysitting your brother 24/7 and his friends when they were over, which was almost every single day. So clearly, there was a lot on your plate, nothing a child should have on theirs. But why did you hate Mingi in specific? He wasn’t mean, but he thought it was funny to break rules, to do what your parents told they couldn’t and he got away with it while the blame fell on you. Not once, not twice.

In Mingi’s defense, he didn’t know actions had consequences at the time, he was 6 and a spoiled only child, also, he felt really shitty when your brother told him your parents punished you for some of the stuff they did later, but he thought it was too late. After two decades and something passed, somehow, you still saw him as the same irresponsible boy that got you into trouble. Mind you, he kind of never left your life completely, he was in bedded in the family’s stories, in the corner of the photos, in the little small get together that were family only, but he was never close to you. That’d be quite the impossible mission since you looked like you hated his guts.

But when the worst time of your life came, so did his redemption arc. Your grandma got really sick, and the whole family was in shambles, but somehow, you were the one expected to make the bigger sacrifices. Most of your relatives live far away, some out of the country and although your mom moved in with you, her health wasn't in an ideal condition to take care of someone else, which was already another problem and another whole set of eggs for you to be careful not to step on. It was only you in this, at least, you thought so until Mingi showed up on your doorstep, ready to help. It concerned you, but your position didn't allow you to turn him down. To your surprise, Mingi helped with a lot. Since he never moved away from his family home, he managed to help daily with meal prepping, groceries shopping, and the house up-keeping. No one really asked him to step up like that. Not even your own brother did this much after a week, yet he was by your side through it all.

A lot of the weight was off your back before you realized it. It was a weird sensation, but you were truly thankful for him, and you wanted to find a way to let him know. After an entire month, your relationship with Mingi was still stiff and awkward, yet you began to appreciate it for what it was, and maybe, someday, it'd be a work in progress.

Jeong Wooyoung (정우영): You may call him a wrecking ball

It seems like he has been paying for all his sins ahead of time because why does he have to love such difficult people? *dramatic sigh*. Ok, that was a lie. He didn’t care you weren’t the best with physical affection, you walked around like that wasn’t a thing at all, but that’s OK, because he’s affectionate enough for the both of you.

You had pretty established boundaries, more like a steel wall around you that people couldn’t go through. While Wooyoung…, yeah. It was a weird kind of friendship at first, if he could call a friendship. He was a work colleague, but somehow, he saw right through your tough act on day one, unlike everyone else. You tended to put a good distance in your every relationship unintentionally, too focused on your work to pay attention on small talk or the gossip of the day, but others saw it as a lack of interest in their friendship, which wasn’t true. You were as interested in them as you were scared of them.

Although it wasn’t possible for Wooyoung to know the in’s and out’s of your mind, he saw your unintentional push and pull game in those subtle ways. Whenever you tried to be closer to people in your own way, the effort wasn’t reciprocated until the point you’d take the hint. It was too late. You managed to scare them away again.

If anyone would ask him why he tried so hard to befriend you, he’d lie and say he didn’t have to try at all, you fell for his charms in an instant. But if he were to be honest, he’d say he saw a part of himself in you. In his eyes, you weren’t cold, nor uptight and mean. You just didn’t give love to others in an open way. This didn’t mean you didn’t have any to give or that you aren’t able to feel it. His running theory was that you were his exact opposite, and he couldn’t just live you be without helping you out or, at least, try.

The moment he got to crack a small piece of your wall, when he wasn’t even trying to, he was determined to see more. And oh boy, didn’t he see it? Now, this may be ridiculous, but he felt honored when you let him step into your world as a whole, no judgment, only him trying to understand you as a person. It warmed his heart that he got to be someone important in your life as much as you were on his.

If anyone that work along side the both of you saw you two today, years later, they wouldn’t believe it. But here you are, pretending you don’t like his weekly hugs spree while you don’t move a single muscle to get him off you. Isn’t it funny how things change? Hm? What was this, oh, you said you feel like laying down on the couch now, so you wouldn’t move? OK, he’d let you have that excuse for now.

Choi Jongho (최종호): he was your missing piece. Now you only miss him

To see him in a situation like this made you consider hysterically laughing until the moment your brain forgets where you are and you don’t care anymore. That must be a nice feeling, one you never really felt without him. Like you, he was dressed up for the weeding ceremony of your friend in common and you felt dumb, first, because you swore you’d only attend if there was no possibility of him coming, he was supposed to be out of the country and second, because he didn’t spare you another look.

Your breakup was amicable and mutual. With both of your lives ascending, the distance grew, physically and emotionally. There was no ease and stress-free conversations, suddenly you couldn’t relate to each other anymore and what was the point to be with him when the only thing you wanted to do on your break was rot in bed instead of seeing him? You had no energy to spare, and neither did him.

Why do you still care, then?

Because he was perfect for you, at least at some point, in every sense of the word. He saw you and didn’t judge, didn’t try to change who you was, instead he slowly but surely helped you adapt into a new routine with him in it. It was livelier and brighter when he was around.

The moment he left, you noticed that you just lived the happiest years of your life, and there was no coming back from it. You didn’t even attempt to talk once more, Jongho was like you in the sense that he carefully decided who stayed on his life and who didn’t, you moved to the latter, but you were the one that moved him out of yours first, weren’t you?

Your time management improved after all, but it let you down when it mattered the most. So, you tortured yourself a bit more, watching him and wondering what was going through his mind and if that had anything to do with you.

Jongho saw you the moment he walked in, but he pretended not to for his own sake. Although he'd never admit it out loud, to greet an ex at a weeding was above his maturity level. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Of course, you looked..., and of course, you'd have a date with you, but that didn't mean he had to see you two together, right? His solution was to stay away from you as far as he could. However, to accomplish such things, he'd have to be aware of your whereabouts all night long.

His self-control and straightforward priorities were some of his best qualities. He managed the need to stalk you on his worst days back then, so he never got to see how you were doing. At that moment, he could tell you were doing your best to be fine, to look perfect, but he used to know you better than that facade. Sometimes, he wondered if you regretted as much as he did.

[dykedvonte]

you make really good points, I think I used the term karmic wrong sorry. I think of it more as not how I personally think he deserved all that happened to him (which thinking back os exactly what karma means, I messed up sorry), but as his fate being directly tied/parallel to anyas. I handnt noticed the toxicity of jimmy and curlys relationship, from the first playthrough I watched and the first interactions I had w fandom I saw so many ppl just. dismiss the terror Anya went through and focus too much on him as the "ultimate victim" and that just didn't sit well w me. I really dislike seeing ppl go "oh well nothing could've been done" I think it's much more complex than that. also I forgot to mention in the last ask that I really appreciate you bringing the point that this game isn't just about the harm of patriarchy but also very very critical to capitalism, I haven't seen too many ppl touch on this. I hadn't thought too deeply about how it makes "he deserved to become disabled as punishment" come up and I agree that's really messed up. I'll try watching a playthrough again with all of this in mind. but either way thanks! I really appreciate your answer 🫶🏼

I guess this is just part of being in a fandom like this. I've noticed a lot of people don't actually see posts outside of their curated view. So some people only get like anya posting or jimmy or curly and it can make it seem like that is what is saturating the conversation.

I mainly just follow the general tags and look for anything new because I'm like obsessed but I know some are only looking for what they want or believe to be the case and can get weird about other ideas.

Sorry if I came off mean its just a last few of the asks have been like circular conversations like this and its not draining per say but seeing all the nuance and details get overlooked to fit a straightforward and basic narrative really sucks cause there's a lot to explore character and theme wise.

[rubiatinctorum]

playing a roulette every time i bring up my writing in society between whether it is going to be one of the best things that ever happened to me or whether it is going to be a marvellous social blunder

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

i see way way way more posts yelling about how wrong it is to tell middle aged women that they’re too old for fandom or tumblr than I see people saying anything of the sort to middle aged women. Like I’m 36 and I’ve never had anyone tell me I’m too old to be here 🤷🏽‍♂️

[nochepsicodelica]

Toji who leaves hickeys all over you so often that you have to push him away when you start looking like you fought an octopus.

"Toji, you know these aren't always gonna be so small. They're gonna end up looking like bruises. Just look at the ones you already left."

"Mhm," he hums, already leaving another one on your shoulder blade, releasing your skin with a wet smack of his lips. He rubs his spit into the mark like it's some sort of salve that'll make it last longer.

"I'm fine with these," you say, looking at all the one's he left on your chest and below. "but my neck... i'm running out of makeup, baby. I won't be able to cover them if you keep this up."

"Then don't." He would just love that. Despite how nonchalant he sounds about it, it's a highly recommended suggestion. He would genuinely love it if you walked around with his marks all over your neck. People will automatically know that you already have someone you get freaky with.

"I have to go to work sometime. I wouldn't be able to take having my neck stared at by everyone I talk to. No more neck hickeys."

He nears your neck, again. The second you say he can't put another mark on it, he spots a clear area and leans in, lightly pressing his lips against it.

"Tojiii," you whine, leaning forward, away from him. "Leave it alone."

"But, it's clear. It's lonely without being marked like the rest of your neck." He scoots forward again, putting his enormous hands on your waist to pull you close. "I'll be quick. Just-"

"Mm-mm. No," you interrupt, brushing his hands off of you.

"I might just die if you don't let me do this, ma."

"Really?" You raise your brows in disbelief.

"Really," he responds, so confidently.

You scoff. "You're so dramatic. You won't die if you don't get to suck on my neck."

"Who knows? I might spontaneously collapse because of it. Weirder, more unexplainable things have happened."

He's so dumb sometimes. Your hunk is absolutely ridiculous, and yet you find yourself weighing towards his point in this.

"Would marking up that blank space actually cure you?" You feel as silly as him for asking the question.

"Who's to say?"

You tilt your head and deadpan. "Right. I guess i'll take my chances and just keep the random patch of unmarked skin on my neck."

"Hey, that doesn't mean we can't try. Come on, now."

You groan and roll your eyes before making your way back to him. He cups your cheeks, smirking as he looks into your eyes, before turning your head to expose the blank area on your neck.

"It's a reaaally good spot, doll. I think i'm gonna make it."

You huff, unable to look at him because of the way your head is turned. You feel his tongue slide over your neck, the gesture transitioning to his lips kissing the area and then it feels sharp. His lips leave a stinging sensation with every second that they stay on you.

"Ow, fuck, you vampire. It feels like you're actually trying to suck the blood out of me." You wince. "Are you done?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm done." He admires his masterpiece and smirks with pride. You have an entire collar of hickeys that he put on you, and the newest one looks mean.

"You look pretty. Could eat you up, mama." He swipes at the new mark with his thumb, looking at the color that will remain on your skin for the next few days.

"I can tell. You already devoured me. You're insane. Just look at all of this," you say, running your hand over your kiss stained neck.

"I was just nibbling on you," he speaks, into your jaw, before smoothly laying you down, onto the bed. "Just wanted a little taste," he says, taking your hands in his and pinning them above your head. "Am I really insane for that?"

"Um..." you laugh, making your flustered state obvious. "Yes?"

"Damn." He gives you a long, deep kiss, that makes you forget what you were talking about. "You think i'm crazy?" You hum, and he does it again.

"Haven't you played with me enough? I feel like i'm some chew toy for you." You giggle, feeling his lips on your cheek, trailing towards your jaw.

He hums, dismissively. "Found more blank space."

[buggachat]

adrien never went to public school / adrienette have never met AU where Ladynoir are dating but Marinette has beef with Adrien Agreste™ on twitter, spurred by her interest in the fashion industry and her friendship with Mylene. ads are all over the place of Adrien promoting products like air in a bottle and NFTs and just generally so many products that are extremely poor taste/bad for the environment. Marinette tweets about beauty standards in the industry and all the shit Gabriel brand does to the environment and how Adrien Agreste perfectly encapsulates it all.

Adrien, of course, never responds to any of her tweets. her tweets are just white noise in the background. she is nowhere near on his level. one day Marinette tweets out something akin to "if I saw Adrien Agreste irl i'd punch him in the face" and her twitter gets banned for Threats of Violence, Alya draws attention to the injustice of it via the Ladyblog and suddenly "I want to punch Adrien Agreste in the face [gets banned]" becomes a bit of a meme. NOW people know who Marinette is and are listening to what she's saying (on her new account or whatever). Chat Noir also tweets that he wants to punch Adrien in the face

A hashtag trends. Marinette caves and starts tweeting about the scandals of the industry on her Ladybug twitter too. Adrien's twitter and instagram comments are flooded with both threats to punch him but also just generally critical comments like "nice pic and all but are you not going to address the sweatshop allegations?". Adrien still does not address it. At most he turns comments off. Marinette is gnawing at the wood of her desk.

Then a Ladybug and Chat Noir identity reveal happens.

Marinette is stunned. Absolutely mouth agape. Cannot form words. Chat Noi— NO, ADRIEN— ADRIEN FUCKING AGRESTE looks at her and is like "oh ha :) .... Marinette Dupain-Cheng, right? You're the girl who wanted to punch me hahaha"

after recovering from her world being shattered, she's like...... "hahaha...... um............... yeah...... uh..... so you... DO know who i am. and you're just. ignoring it then. hahaha... ok... thats....... fine..... anyway..... u-uh...... im not... gonna actually punch you. but. um. k-kitty do you um. maybe want to stop promoting deforestation and all that"

he's like "I don't"

she's like. "yes you do. literally in your newest ad you said to the camera 'who needs trees when bottled air is the way of the future'. like did you really read that line out loud and not see a problem with it"

"yeah, that wasn't me"

"what are you talking abou—"

"it's deepfaked"

"..... what"

"all of my ads in the past few years are deepfakes. I complained too much so my father fired me. turns out that i signed away all rights to my face and voice to him when I was 13 or something. he can just use my face and voice and name however he wants. he generates ads. i dont even have access to the 'Adrien Agreste' twitter or insta accounts. sometimes he makes me do runways but beyond that I'm not involved in all."

"... ... ... ... ... what"

"yeah haha... :") im sorry. i wish i could help you more. but he never listens to me. i don't like it either, i.... i've asked him to stop sooo many times. but he never listens to me. i hate seeing my face used without my consent but haha.... i don't... have any rights here so. sorry. i really wish i could help more"

and now marinette hates "Adrien Agreste"™ ads/posts EVEN MORE and is threatening to kill Gabriel Agreste himself. all while kissing the real adrien agreste silly

[cryptfile]

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ holy terrain!!!!!!, [ homelander x supe!reader ]

SUMMARY— based on a request aka when you arrive to vought’s tower covered in blood, you certainly don't expect to enjoy John’s comfort after feeling so numb.

WARNINGS — +18 minors dni, implied fem! reader, homelander is a warning himself, usual the boys content, mentions of murder, violence, reader matches homelander’s freak ngl, always wash your hands before fingering #PLEASE, blood kink at it's best, degradation (blink and you’ll miss it), dirty talk, porn without plot sort of?? lmao blame it on my hormones.

SIDE NOTES — hi there, this is a result of me going feral in this new season. English's not my first language, so please be kind, any mistake it's my own fault sorry in advance. Hate this mf but wont deny I wouldn't fuck him to calm him down. Please interact if you like this, reblogs, comments, likes, all means a lot to me!

The smell is under your nose.

At first it didn’t bother you to feel the warmth of it, you’re not disgusted by blood. But it’s everywhere. Fucking everywhere. Sticking in your face, staining your damn suit, pooling beneath your feet.

You can feel your own breathing, yet, you're numb to everything else. The screams of terror and the sudden silence of the killing are now something similar as a long-time-ago memory, a distant thought you cannot bring yourself to care about.

And when you came out of the elevator, you don't care about the other people looking at you either. The Vought personal that were always running in the floor, Ashley, or fucking Noir at the matter thinking you're Carrie or something, no one dares to talk to you even when you’re a mere sidekick, too afraid of your explosive personality to even demand to know what happened.

It's almost like you asked for it, to be left alone, to not deal with anyone but your own judgment.

So when you cross the hallway to your dormitory dreaming about a warm shower, you don't expect to see him inside, your relationship with Homelander being too sporadic to even catalog it as one. Yet he's there like it's his house, and you're too tired to even ask why he's there in the first place.

"There you are," he says, but you hear his voice like he's talking miles away from you instead of the couch where he really is. "Something was telling me you were having a rough day."

"Don't remember anything about inviting you to my room" he doesn't care about your tone as he walks closer to you, usually, when he speaks, he only seem to listen to himself. "Didn’t give you a key."

He's oblivious at your words, instead, he seems to be too lost in his own way of seeing things, just waiting for you to say something similar to what you’ve already said in his mind. To admit something like you missed him all day long, that you've been thinking about him as much as he's thinking about you, to fed his ego like only you can do after only a few times of sharing intimacy.

The air is thick, making it harder to breathe as he plants himself in front of you, blue eyes scanning your face as his fingers touched your hair, toying with the strands glued together with blood — Even if it’s gross, he don’t seemed moved by it, mainly, you think, because he’s been through the same too.

"Don't need a key to show up," he laughs like it's obvious, and you look at him like he's having a rougher time than you. "This is my building."

It's almost a reminder for you, that you're living under his roof and have a place on his team because he just wants to. Even when you always do the dirty job no one dares to do, if you save his ass more times you can count, he still remarks you’re living in his world.

“I know,” you fight the need to roll your eyes to the back of your head while responding. It’s something you remind yourself sometimes, how most of them are just plain stupid, always treating you like you were no better than fucking Deep.

The stink under your nose is annoying and your skin feels sticky at the touch so you’re almost begging for just ten minutes of privacy.

“I just missed you” he says in a low voice, almost ashamed of admitting something he would never even dare to say out loud, a sudden verge of vulnerability, strange raw honesty as he looks at you. “Didn’t you miss me too?”

You know the only way of really control him, how to make him do exactly what you want to do, so you let him. Let him act all needy and weird cause you want John wrapped around your finger, unable to think on his own. You want him to believe, whole-heartedly, that in the end he’s the one coming up with the great ideas when it's you every single time.

You don’t find it cruel, he’s the same with you and he deserves it, so when Homelander bites his middle finger to grab the fabric of his gloves and pull it off, you let him touch you, treat you like this lost-dove-in-trouble he loves to see — “Had an awful day. Just wanted to see you,” like that. The correct combination of words and he looks like he got fucking shot by a celestial force, mesmerized. “Always missing you, babe.”

He’s sold by the moment, that tone you use, that little nickname that gets him, the sound of your heartbeat slightly faster than before, not enough to catch you lying, but enough to show you’re indeed, happy to see him as well.

He's pleased, so the next is unexpected to say the least, and you hate every second of it when he carries you like you two are married or something similar, sitting in the sofa with you on his lap.

“What are you-”

He shushes you, and you cannot finish what you’re saying when he pulls you to his chest, the fabric of his suit against your cheek as he, weirdly enough, hugged you close, the sound of his heartbeat instead, loud against your ear as you can feel him breathing beneath you, an steady rhythm as the silence filled the room. It's weird sometimes, to think he's human as well before the compound V.

“Comforting you,” he says in a low voice. His bare hand now grabbing your tight enough to bury his fingers in the covered skin, squeezing it lightly as first, nothing you cannot control. And it's beyond doubt what he truly wants, the way his nose inhales the scent of your body like it's fuel, the blood mixing with your fragrance — "M' here now."

He likes it almost more than his own smell. Almost is the key, cause he cannot help but wish you'd stink like him after waking up next to him that very same day. The thought wakes something new in the alleged superhero, something that stings in his stomach, plaguing his mind with the thought of getting all that he wants, to mark you as his property as he has done before.

He cannot get enough. Of course he can't, he's used to have it all now, to never ask but take. That's why he bites your shoulder, why he didn't mind getting his hands dirty with you and your sticky suit, why he's not grossed out by anything, but instead, turned on by how much you needed him.

But in reality it's the other way around, cause Homelander's the one that pulls you closer, that kisses you like you're something heavenly, just like he is. He's not gentle, yet he knows you like it that way, that you're into that rough force he's used to and would kill any normal person in result.

"Who let you go on that mission on your own, huh?" He asks, concentrated in your suit, pulling it down slightly just to reveal the naked skin under the fabric, clean skin in contrast of all the red. "Seems like they all forgot we're supposed to work together."

You don't get why it feels so nice at first, why the hand on your hip moves through your body like you need some kind of reassurance after all you went through the day.

"I'm okay" you manage to say, the pure need to remind him you're good enough to make things on your own, some kind of memo that explains clearly that you want the same benefits he has. It's useless however, when he has you like that, making you tilt your head to the side, placing random bites in any sight of exposed flesh.

"You're hurt" he says, making you aware of your own body as he presses one hand against the injury on the side of your ribs. He's fucking sick for it, and it doesn't give you any time to react when his fingertips are pushing against the cut, your suit staining with your own blood as you mewl on top of him. "Clearly hurt."

He's drunk on depravity, lost on the face you make when the pain hits you all sudden, stealing the air from your lungs. He's suddenly hard beneath you and his hand's now rest on your hip making you move on top of him, hungry for anything he can get out of you, any little sound you make so focused on keeping quiet, trying so hard to not to fed on his bullshit.

The friction is unbearable, the fresh blood coming out of your now-opened wound, the slight force he uses to tear your suit apart like its nothing, giving him more space to work with as he seemed desperate to have you close. It takes you far from where you were first, the numb feeling that grew like a parasite your stomach swallowing it all, now instead, too sensitive to his touch.

Yes. You hate him for it, hate that it's too easy for him, the traumatized hero with too many issues, the world's strongest man that somehow manages to make a mess out of you just with something so simple as sitting on his lap.

He's so pleased when you moan, when you say his name and you forgot about mannerisms, he needs to pull out his other glove in response as his blonde hair falls over his face, throwing it to the floor as his bare hand is now able to rip apart your suit effortless. The warmth of his palm cups your now bare breast for him, and he leans into your chest, tongue flickering in circles over your nipple as you let out a strangled moan.

"Common, need you to use your words here," he demands for a moment, almost annoyed as you can see the traces of saliva that connected you to his mouth: Why does he look so good? Fucker. "Cause if you don’t stop me now I’ll reduce your suit to ashes.”

“Don’t care,” you know Ashley’s going to be pissed, yet it's not enough to say anything about it. "Fucking hate the suit anyway."

"Such a dirty mouth" you're tugging his hair, hand on your kneecap pulling it slightly to the side as he forces you to open your legs for him. "What can I do with you?"

There it is, the ripped sound of his hands tearing the rest of the fabric apart, the pliable desperation in his touch, grabbing, kissing, and palming the curves of your body as it's holy terrain, unstudied land. He's caught in the smell of your skin finally mixing with his, the way your hips grinded in need for a deeper contact.

He laughs at you, laughs at that sight of defeat when he finally slides the hand that was on your knee under the ripped leavings of your now-destroyed suit. Of course he fucking loves the way you're speechless all thanks to his efforts, that you're unable to keep still as you straddle him now confident he's not repulsed by your dirty nature.

"Did you get turned on by killing?" He asks, and you try to respond something like he's clearly dumb. "Been smelling you since you've got here. All wet, covered in blood."

He's far from lazering you, but you can feel the weight of his gaze almost trespassing you when his hand finally reaches that nice spot between your legs and feels your drenched underwear beneath his fingertips. He can feel it all, and you are aware of it.

He's driven by the sounds of your heartbeat, the way your skin glimmers with sweat, he knows you're enjoying every second of it, his fingertips fondling on top of the cloth moments before pulling it to side. The warm contact with your cunt is enough to make him lose it, enough to make him succumb beneath you as he explores the folds of your aching core, his other hand holding your hip just to keep you in place.

John seems to forget, always does. Cause his grip turns beyond bruising and you can hear the crack when he moves you against his hand, a new broken bone to added to the list as he's unaware to the sound it produces, the pain that makes you shake violently blending immediately with pleasure.

You can take it. You're tough and a big girl who's taken worse, so you don't whine about it knowing you must be healing already, instead, you let yourself be trapped in that haze he created, the sounds of your sex when he hits that very spot you overly-enjoy, digits slightly curving inside as he’s experiencing the velvety feeling of your walls colliding against his hand.

"That's it, keep the show for me.” He loves praising so much since you told him he’s doing good one time, he needs to do the same for you at the first chance he got while you offered yourself to him, riding his fingers. “Such a good slut.”

He’s concentrated in the way his fingers disappear inside of you, the intense smell of blood and sex that now fills the air as you moan out his name, the red droplets in your face much like freckles, far more wicked than pure marks on your skin.

“So nice, so warm,” he says to himself, the slick sound of your arousal filling the room, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your chest as he marks your skin like you’re all his.

He’s sure he’s alleviating your problems, sure he’s making you feel so much better, thumb tracing circles in your swollen bud as he stole cries of pleasure from your parted lips.

You don’t let him know you’re close but he can sense it, the slight change in your breathing each time more erratic, your heartbeats quickening their pace as you got closer to the edge.

And when you really finish, when you’re done riding your high, you grab the remains of your teared suit and look at him with that damn smile he loves. You know he’s expecting to receive anything back, any favor you’re willing to give in return.

But instead, when you got off his lap, you just caress his cheek gently before saying — “See you later, John? Kind of busy now.”

my masterlist

[seospicybin]

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE

ROUND 1

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Related chapters: Round 2.

Synopsis: Let's play two truths and a lie, and here goes the first thing about you: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend, Minho. (9k words)

Author's note: It's a quick one-shot I made like a year ago but pls enjoy it nonetheless 😊

Content warning: Infidelity.

This is how you play two truths and a lie. You share three statements about you, two being true and one false, and people must determine which is which.

-

So here goes the first statement: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend.

A few months ago, you came to the city for your new job and were placed in a housing with a group of unbearable people. Since you've just started working, you tried looking at another option to get a temporary place to stay until you're financially stable enough to rent an apartment.

Long story short, a friend of a friend introduced you to Kim who happened to have an extra room you can rent. She owns the apartment and does not necessarily need the money, she offered her room for the sole reason which is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of that is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of person every day and for that, you're grateful for her.

After a week of living as roommates, you learn that Kim is just as graceful as her occupation, a ballet dancer. She's beautiful, kind-hearted, amicable, and ultimately, a very attentive roommate.

The room you're staying in was supposedly her private dance studio but she uses the living room to practice now and you have to adjust yourself to the huge mirror covering one side of the wall in your room.

Not long after that, Minho comes into the picture. A sharp nose, sharp jaws, and feline eyes, a beautiful face that only reminds you that the world is unfair to some people, including you.

"This is Minho," Kim introduces him with a smile

The second your eyes lock in a gaze with him, you feel an instant attraction and it intensifies as he stares back into your eyes.

"My boyfriend," Kim adds a little too late.

It's funny that the word boyfriend doesn't stop you from being attracted to him, if anything, you want him more than before.

Kim and Minho have been together for two years now and they met at the dance academy which explains a lot of things, including Minho's lean and toned body.

How do you know? Because sometimes he stays over and on more than one occasion, you found him walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a white towel hanging lowly around his waist.

That's also when you learn that this attraction is strictly physical, your uterus is acting up when you see him, and lewd thoughts rush through your head. It's all biological. There's no way you want to pursue him romantically, you couldn't even think of a person more deserving to be with him than Kim. They're both beautiful and talented dancers, oftentimes, you get so envious because they have such a lovely relationship.

Like tonight, you hear their laughter the second you step into the apartment, finding Kim and Minho in the kitchen just casually talking to each other while sharing a bowl of fruits. You love how simple yet endearing their interaction is.

"Hey, you're home!" Kim says with a sweet, welcoming smile.

You wave your hand at her and briefly at Minho, "Hi, everyone!" You awkwardly say, feeling like you're interrupting them.

"Have you had dinner?" Kim asks, attentive as always.

"Yeah, I grabbed dinner after work," you lie, but you can always creep your way to the fridge late at night for dinner.

"There's a pie in the fridge. Help yourself to some dessert," she sweetly offers then shoves a piece of blueberry into her mouth.

Without having to look, you can see how Minho looks at you, he has this deep, intense gaze that makes you the slightest bit intimidated.

"I will, thanks," you hurriedly respond, wanting the interaction to end as soon as possible, "I'll just... get into my room."

"Yeah, you should rest," Kim softly mutters.

You hoist your bag higher on your shoulder and head to your room, before you get in, you mutter to them, "Night, guys."

"Night," Kim cheerily says.

You hurriedly get in and catch a glimpse of Minho with his intense stare a second before the door completely closes and clicks in place.

The trick to surviving the night is to wait until they get into the bedroom and put headphones on as you come out of yours, not only to avoid hearing unwanted noises, but you reckon it's only right to take the extra measure to respect their privacy.

As you're listening and catching glimpses of the movie playing on your phone, you walk around the kitchen to prepare your simple, unhealthy dinner: a cup of noodles and a can of soda.

You're quietly eating your dinner by the kitchen counter with the headphones still on and once you finished, you treat yourself to a slice of pie, then put the rest of the pie back into the fridge.

It gets messy as you're munching on the pie while watching the movie on your phone. The cherry filling gets all over your fingers and you hurriedly lick it off before it gets—

"Oh, my God!" You shriek in surprise, seeing someone standing by the fridge. Once you realize it's Minho, you break into laughter.

"I'm just getting a bottle of water," he says, his face illuminated by the glow of the fridge lights.

"I'm sorry," you say while clutching your chest, and a second later, regret for saying it when he should be the one apologizing.

There's something different in the way Minho looks at you, he has one corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, giving you the impression that he's thinking of filthy things when he looks at you like that. He's giving you that look now and it does certain things to you.

He then stops leaning against the fridge, taking the bottle of water as he walks back to the bedroom, leaving his signature faint smirk on the back of your head.

The signals are there, they're subtle yet constantly pinging, asking you to respond. For now, you're going to ignore it like you always do and continue existing like you're not sharing the same space with him.

-

Statement number two: You believe Minho wants to fuck you too.

At first, you thought you imagined it, you want to fuck him so you started being delusional and thinking that he wants to fuck you too. Once you started paying attention though, you realized that what he's been doing to you meant something or some sort of message he tried to deliver.

The first occurrence that came to your realization is when the two of you were in the kitchen, you were enjoying your yoghurt and he suddenly came behind you to get something from the drawer that happened to be blocked by your body. Instead of telling you to step aside, he made you stand there as his hand curved around your waist to get something out of a drawer.

From there, you noticed a lot of things he did, the way he briefly rested his hand on the small of your back as he walked past behind you, his hand that would often brush a part of your body when the two of you are next to each other or the way he would speak close to your ear as if he's seeking to be close to you. Simply put, he always tries to make physical contact with you.

The scariest part of it is not the possibility that the two of you will eventually get caught, but how unfazed he is even when his girlfriend is there. Like that night where the three of you shared the sofa and somehow, his hand found your shoulder and instead of retreating, he continued to caress the nape of your neck with his knuckle.

However, what happens tonight is what makes you believe that he wants the same thing.

After making sure that you're the only one still awake in the vicinity, you make your way to the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower to help you relax and sleep faster. You skip on using the hairdryer since it'll make too much noise and tiptoe your way back to your bedroom.

In the middle of putting on your clothes, you realize that you left the door ajar and you notice Minho is watching through the reflection in the mirror.

Instead of stopping or rushing to close the door, you pretend to not see him there and continue, turning your body to the side, showcasing every curve of your body through the reflection in the mirror.

You arch your back as you put on the night dress over your head and slowly slip yourself in it, shimmying your body as you pull the dress down with your hands. Then you look at him through the reflection in the mirror and make it known that you're aware of his presence.

From the crooked grin on his face, you can tell that Minho is pleased to be caught watching you and you received his signal loud and clear: He wants to fuck you too.

But sadly, tonight's show is over so you walk to the door and close it.

-

Friday afternoon, Kim barges into your room and she rarely comes into your room without knocking on your door. Seeing that she's carrying a dress in her hand, you guess she needs your opinions on her clothing choices.

You sit on the bed and take your headphones off, "What's up, Kim?"

She stands at the end of the bed and lifts the dress with both hands, "What do you think?" She asks.

It's a mini dress with spaghetti straps in a deep purple color and it's a nice dress, you're just not sure if it fits Kim's style that well, she usually opts for dresses with flaring hem and floral prints.

"It's nice, Kim," you say but skip on giving her the detailed explanation.

She puts the dress close to her body and hugs it, "Do you like it?"

"Yeah," you shortly reply, even though it doesn't fit her style well, it certainly will look good on her.

"Good!" She shortly says, handing the dress to you, "Cause you'll be wearing it.

Somehow, you reach for it and awkwardly hold it in front of you, "W-why? Why me?"

Kim goes to your vanity table and flips open your jewelry box, she holds your earrings one by one to find ones that would match the dress.

"You're coming with me to this party," she says, leaving a lot of details in her answer.

"What party?"

"Party at my friend's," she simply answers, deciding on the gold small hoop earrings.

But that's against your plan, you want to steer clear of Minho and party at Kim's friend means that he'd likely be there too.

"Kim, I don't think that's a good idea," you tell her.

She then leans against the desk in your room and crosses her arm together in front of her, "These past few days you refused to hang out with me so you have to hang out with me tonight."

So Kim knows that you've been purposely avoiding her but you need to explain that it's not because of her, "But that's not—"

"Nuh-uh!" She quickly cuts you off again, "Tonight you're going to the party with me," she decides on her own, not accepting any more excuses from you.

"Is it okay though? I mean... it's your friend's party. I don't want to intrude," you meekly say while playing with the strap of the dress.

"Why would it not be okay?" She says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, "Besides I want to introduce you to Gaspard."

Maybe you owe this one to Kim and hearing a guy's name piques your interest, "And who is Gaspard?"

"A cute guy," she shortly answers with a sly grin on her heart-shaped face, "And you'll like him."

It's not like Minho's presence would bother you that much and Kim needs you, she wants you there, therefore, as a good roommate, you should be there.

"Yeah, okay, I'm in the mood to meet a cute guy tonight," you tell her, not forgetting to show enthusiasm as well.

"That's the spirit!" Kim says with a wide grin dancing on her face.

Well, since you'll be there and possibly meet Minho, Gaspard better be a cute distraction for real.

-

The taxi pulls up in front of a house and you reckon it's where the party at from how many cars are parked outside and the faint thumping of the music playing inside.

The fact that you get here by taxi only means that there's no Minho so you can relax, for now.

Kim excitedly links her arm with you as you both walk into the house and you expect a party with laid-back music and endless glasses of wine but the second you step inside, upbeat music is blasting from around the house and everyone is having beers from red plastic cups.

The party is not what you imagined it would be, but it's what you need.

Kim cranes her neck to find her friends and once she finds them, she raises her hand to signal her arrival to them.

"Come on! Let's meet my friends!" She says.

Please, God, let him be a cute distraction! You repeatedly mutter in your heart as she drags you with her to meet her friends who are gathered in what you guess is a rec room in the house.

When Kim's friends finally come to sight, you put on a smile as you quietly guess which one of them is Gaspard. Kim goes to hug them one by one before introducing you to them.

"This is Ellie, Jena, Paul..." she introduces her friends back to you one by as the mentioned person warmly greets you.

"And Minho," someone adds from behind you.

You immediately look over your shoulder to see Minho standing there, Kim gently slaps his shoulder in response and laughs.

"This is not a roll call, honey," Kim says with a smile and then leans in to give Minho a quick peck on the lips.

Minho is already here and there's no Gaspard yet. No Gaspard means there'll be no distraction. You keep your smile on even though you're slowly descending into distress.

"There he is!" Kim exclaims, pointing at something behind you.

You reflexively turn on your heels and see a tall man with brown hair, striking green eyes, and a scintillating smile. This man will make the perfect distraction.

Please let this man be Gaspard, you deeply wish inside your heart.

Kim comes to your side and puts her arm around you, "This is the man I told you about," she says.

"I hope you only told her nice things about me," Gaspard says with a sly grin that makes his whole face light up.

The universe heard your plea and decided to make it true for you, this is Gaspard, the perfect distraction you want and need.

"Holyfuck..." you lowly mutter in disbelief.

"What's that?" Kim asks, hearing you saying something but doesn't quite catch it.

You've already forgotten where you are and what you're doing. And Minho? Who is Minho? You let out a chuckle and shake these silly thoughts away.

"So this is Gaspard, huh?" You say in all confidence.

"That is me," he answers, returning the confidence with a wide smile, "I'm better than you expected, I guess?"

Gaspard is confident and then gets shy in the next minute which you find charming, you smile at him and say, "I need more time to decide on that."

"That's fair," Gaspard says, offering his hand at you.

You think he's just going to shake your hand but he takes you into the crowd gathered in the middle of the room, dancing.

"A fair warning, I'm a bad dancer," you warn him as he takes your hands in his and makes you stand facing him.

"We still have time to decide on that," he pokes fun at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you close to his front.

Kim is right, Gaspard is cute and you like him already. He has just the right amount of facial hair and it grazes your cheek whenever he leans in to whisper into your ear, giving you a tingling feeling inside and outside.

After a few moments though, you find yourself panting from dancing with him. You should've known this would happen when you're dancing with a real dancer.

Since Gaspard is way taller than you, you have to put your arm around his shoulder and stand on your tiptoe to whisper to his ear, "Hey, how about we get drinks?"

"Drinks?" He asks you in confirmation since the mix of loud music and chatter is filling the room.

"Yeah," you answer while repeatedly nodding your head.

He doesn't say anything but takes your hand and leads the way through the crowd to the kitchen where bottles of liquor are strewn around on the kitchen island.

You intently watch as Gaspard is excitingly making you his special concoction. He finishes it off with a spritz of lemon before handing it to you.

"Thank you," you mutter in gratitude.

"Come on. Taste it!" He encourages you, curious of what you think of his drink-mixing skill.

Well, you've been staring at it long enough to give him the impression that you hesitate to drink it. You hurriedly take a small sip and you don't even have to lie, it's good.

"Wow!" You gasp, impressed with the drink he made.

"I know," he confidently says with a smirk and drinks his drink.

It's so refreshing and sweet like it has no alcohol at all, you hurriedly take another sip.

"It's really good," you tell him.

"Thank you," he says with a grin.

He then offers his hand at you, "Let's find somewhere to talk?"

You take his hand without question, letting him take you wherever he wants because it seems like he knows where he's going. He leads you to the backyard where everyone is hanging out by the pool.

"Hey, you!"

Recognizing the voice, your head snaps toward the source, and see Kim waving her hand at you from the long sofa that curved around a fancy fireplace.

You stop walking on your track and end up leading Gaspard there. You unconsciously let out a sigh of relief after seeing that there's no Minho there.

"Oh, hey," you greet back.

Kim scoots to the side to make space for you on the sofa, "Where have you guys been?"

"Oh, we were just dancing and he made me a drink," you honestly answer, not forgetting to show her the drink in your hand.

"And where were you going to take her, Gaspard?" Kim asks with eyes squinted at him.

"Anywhere but here," he jokingly answers.

"Well, since you guys just got here, it's your turn to play!" Someone says, you can't remember what her name is but she's one of the friends Kim introduced earlier.

"Turn to play? What?" You ask in confusion.

"Two truths and a lie," someone says.

You feel bad for not being able to remember their names, Gaspard's influence is that powerful on you.

"You know how to play, right?" Kim asks.

It's not about whether you know how to play or not, it's just so unexpected that these talented, gorgeous dancers like to play this kind of game at parties.

"Yes, I do," you answer.

Kim turns on the sofa to face you and looks at you in anticipation, "Okay then. Shoot!"

"Right now?"

"Yes," Kim shortly answers with a chuckle.

You admire their eagerness whether for the game or to know something about you, you rake your brain to think of three things about you and one of them should be a lie that would likely fool them good.

"Okay first is uhm... I'm allergic to cats," you share.

There's no response from them but you can see how they're looking at you and probably every detailed facial expression you make that will give away hints about whether you're lying or not.

"Second thing is my mom has a twin," you confidently share with a faint smile.

"Ah," Kim lowly gasps and you guess because you've shared this information with her before.

"Last thing is..." you look around as you think of the last thing to share with them.

You eventually turn to the side and see Gaspard smiling at you, "I think Gaspard is cute," you share the third thing about you.

"That's the one! That's the lie!" Someone excitedly guesses, and you suddenly remember his name as Paul.

You laugh because Gaspard looks so offended by his friend, "No, it's not a lie," you quickly defend him.

Gaspard shoots him a glare and triumphantly laughs, "Just drink, man!"

Paul drinks his beer in defeat.

"I must say the second one is the lie," the girl says again, still can't remember her name though.

"No. Her mom has a fraternal twin," Kim says, learning that information from you on the first day you moved into her apartment.

"Drink up, Jena!" Kim tells her that she guessed wrong and not wasting time but drinks her beer as a punishment.

"Oh, so you're not allergic to cats?" Gaspard asks.

"No, I'm not. I like cats," you answer.

He then sighs in relief, "That's great because I have a cat."

"Oh, wow?!" You utter in disbelief.

Other than being a great distraction, you share a lot in common with Gaspard and that says something.

"I also have cats," someone adds, joining in on the circle.

You can tell by the voice that it's the man you've been trying to avoid seeing tonight. You remain calm and have a sip of your drink.

"Yes, Minho, we all know you're a cat daddy," Jena says, finally knowing her name from Kim.

Kim groans and tosses a cushion at Jena, "Don't say that!"

Minho takes a gulp of Kim's drink and sits with his back reclined and his legs spread open, even his sitting position oozing with confidence and you eat that shit up.

You feel like slapping your face at that thought and have another sip to swallow that thought down.

"Is it my turn to play?" Minho asks around.

Jena shrugs since no one is taking the turn to play, "Yeah, sure, go ahead."

Minho softly scratches his chin before speaking, "I want to kiss someone tonight."

He starts easy but from the faint smirk on his face, you can tell he's brewing something in his mind.

"That someone is not my girlfriend," he calmly says.

Welp, there you go! Minho acts like he didn't just drop a shocking statement while his girlfriend is sitting prettily next to him.

You glance at Kim and she looks calm, but you can see that her jaws are slightly clenched. She's not happy so Minho should stop it.

But instead of calming his girlfriend, Minho looks at you and continues to share the third statement, "The person I want to kiss is one of you."

Your heart skips a beat because he keeps looking right at you and making it obvious for everyone to see who it is. All of a sudden, you feel the urge to exit this scene but walking out only makes it even more obvious.

Minho is sick of doing this to you and Kim, it's like he doesn't even care what it can do to either you or Kim.

"Oh, Minho, that's..." Paul hisses, not able to finish his sentence.

"Why, Paul?" Minho daringly asks him.

"Nothing," Paul says while scratching his head.

Minho leans forward and says, "It's you, Paul. It's you who I want to kiss."

Paul's tense face melts in a second and everyone bursts out laughing, "Fuck you, man!"

"It's you. I want to kiss you," Minho taunts him more, throwing himself at him and jokingly tries to kiss him.

Paul keeps pushing him away, sloshing his drink as he tries to dodge Minho's kiss while everyone else is laughing at them.

Even though it turns out to be a joke, you feel sick in the stomach and feel the need to get out of here.

"I need to go to the restroom," you mutter, getting up from the sofa.

Gaspard puts down his drink, "I can show you—"

"It's okay. I can go by myself," you tell him off, you regret being so crass but you're sure he'll understand.

"Okay," he says, sitting back down on the sofa.

While clutching the hem of your dress, you head back inside the house and find the bathroom to only queue to get inside, you decide to try on the second floor. You can easily find the bathroom as it's wedged between two bedrooms.

It's a party, you're sure the host would be okay with you using their bathroom, you don't even need to pee or something, you just need a space to vent.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you keep muttering to the reflection in the mirror.

When you touch your neck, you can feel a sheen of sweat there so you run your hands under the cold water and tap it to your neck.

This is the first time you realize what it'll do to you when it comes to following your desire. You'll ruin not only their relationship but also your friendship with Kim and she's been nothing but good to you.

"Fuck!" You mutter once again as you splash cold water on your face like it would help to put some sense into you.

Coming here was a bad idea!

But you're already here so you only need to stick to your plan, staying away from Minho and sticking with Gaspard. You allow yourself to spend a few more minutes just to compose yourself before coming out of the bathroom.

As you're about to climb down the stairs, the plan comes to a failure.

You see Minho is coming up the stairs and he seems to be looking for you as well from the way he stops once he finds you.

Instead of avoiding him as you planned, you feel the need to confront him about what happened a while ago. You grab the front of his shirt and take him into one of the bedrooms. The first one is locked so you try the other one and it's empty.

Once both of you are inside, you slam the door shut and push him against it.

"What the hell are you doing?" You aggressively ask, pushing his chest until his back hits the door.

"What? What am I doing?" He plays innocent but that smirk knows it all.

You slap his chest with both of your hands now but all you can feel is how firm his pecs are.

"You just don't care, do you?"

He puts his hands on each side of your waist and draws you closer, not hesitating to plant his mouth on your jaw.

"Minho!" You whine, ending up getting trapped in his hold with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

He glides his lips up and presses a kiss there on the skin under your ear, sending a tingling down your spine as his warm breath brushes your skin.

You helplessly dodge away from his lips yet somehow, he manages to capture your lips in a kiss and oh, you hate it so much! You hate how you like the way he kisses you, so passionately and hungrily, he makes it known that he wants it so much.

Okay, maybe the kiss is a slip-up and you hurriedly pull yourself out of it. You push him and pull away from the kiss.

"You know we can't do this," you mutter but you're looking at his lips, tempted to kiss him again.

He ignores your words and kisses you again, and you fall into it again. You try harder this time and break the kiss.

"Minho!" You whine, looking away to not let the temptation win again.

Using it as an opportunity, Minho plants his mouth on your ear and nibbles on it, peeling a layer off of your sanity which brings you to slip down the slope again.

Your lips are colliding again, harder and deeper, causing even more damage than the previous one as his hands go all over you and pull the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

The two logics in your head are clashing against each other, the one wants to satisfy this desire and the other wants to get out of this situation altogether. If you follow the former then at least, your curiosity will be fulfilled and if you follow the latter, then you get to keep the peace.

As you are caught in that inner battle, you blank out and stiffen against him.

"We have to stop," you mutter to him.

But is that what you want? To stop when you already have your toes dipped in the water?

Minho also takes a moment to assess the situation, he looks at you with his lips red and wet, "it has to stop," he says in agreement.

You take a step back and feel the sudden detachment as he lets go of you and you can't believe that he agrees right away that this is the better decision. You can't help but think that he doesn't want you enough.

He stays standing there, leaning against the door and looking at you with his eyes dark and wide with lust.

"So what do we do now?"

That's such a wrong thing to ask you because what you want to do now is be selfish for the night, for one fucking night, and if you're going to do it, you may as well go all in, right?

Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

"Fuck!" you heavily sigh and take down the straps of your dress, sending your breasts spilling out of the front.

"Suck my tits," you order.

It takes Minho a moment to process it and when he finally catches on that you've made up your mind, he goes for it. He comes at you full speed, hands off the brake and head first.

His mouth lathers at your breasts before sucking at them like you asked, taking them in turns, and leaving them wet with his saliva.

"Nibble on my nipples," you command.

You look down to watch him obeying you, using his tongue to nibble on your blossoming buds and alternating it with his teeth next.

"Oh, fuck," you breathlessly mutter as he sucks hard on your nipple.

While his mouth is busy latching on your breasts, his hands are snaking to the back and kneading at your asscheeks, caressing them with his fingers, and teasing your underwear.

This feels so wrong yet so good, you have your inner battle still but your logic is being defeated by your body's needs. You pull him by the shoulder and make him kiss you again so you'll stop thinking.

The rattles on the door startle you both and Minho immediately pushes the door with his back, then holds the knob to not let anyone in. Whoever tries to get it seems to figure out that the room is occupied.

"Sorry," someone says from behind the door.

Minho immediately locks the door while you take a step back from him, he gives you that look again, the kind of look that sees right through you and knows that you feel conflicted inside.

"Kim is my good friend," you tell him, feeling a pang of sadness in your chest that it aches.

He comes at you again and kisses you in which you're returning with the same eagerness. He seems to know that it's the only way to make you stop talking and thinking altogether. He pulls you closer than before his hands snaking to your rear, cupping the ample flesh in his hand.

"This is terrible," you mutter as you break the kiss so you can take your underwear off.

"This is terrible..." you mutter again, pulling him close by the waistband of his jeans and proceeding to unzip his fly open, "Betraying her like this."

It's like your body has a mind of its own, it's doing the opposite of what you're saying.

You impatiently take his semi-hard out of its confine and stroke it in your hand, "terrible," you emphasize the word and nail it deep into your head.

Minho doesn't say anything but follows what your body wants, he kisses you again, sloppily with his hands mindlessly roaming around your body.

"Touch me there," you whisper into him.

Without looking, his hand knows where to go. It goes to where you want him to be, going to the front to that wetness between your legs.

"Put your fingers in."

Minho runs his fingers down your slit repeatedly before inserting his finger into you. One digit is enough to make you moan in pleasure as he pumps it in and out of you.

"Add one more."

He draws his finger out and brings his index and middle fingers, shoving them into your mouth to wet them with your saliva. He brings them back to your entrance and slowly pushes them inside.

"Fuck, oh..." you moan, burying your head in his neck.

Two fingers are going in and out of you and you're already losing it. You start to think of what his cock would be like inside you as it feels hot and hard in your hand, pulsating with so much desire.

His lips nestle in your neck, kissing and lightly sucking on the skin as your body clings to him for support.

"Curl them— Oh!"

Minho knows what to do, he curls his fingers and carefully finds that spot that makes you whine and moan at the same time, and the lewd noise echoes in the dimly lit room.

You look over your shoulder to locate the bed and start steering his body there, walking backward without having to take hands off of each other.

He slowly pulls out and breaks the kiss only to pull your dress up, making the dress hunched around your waist. You plop down onto the bed and get on, you take a moment to continue undoing his jeans and pull it down enough to let his erection free.

Without thinking, you put his cock into your mouth, take him as much as you can and compensate for the rest you can't take with your hand. You lick and suck, alternating those two as you enjoy every inch of his delicious length with your mouth.

Minho tangles his hand in your hair and gently tugs at it, "I feel so guilty," he says.

Oh, so he's not that selfish after all but the thought of him thinking of his girlfriend with his cock deep in your mouth doesn't make you jealous at all, it makes you feel more aroused than before.

"Oh, so guilty," he says between his hoarse, low moans as he stares back into your eyes.

You slowly pull away and replace your mouth with your hand, restlessly pumping his swollen cock.

"You should be," you tell him, sticking your tongue out of your mouth and swirling it around the pink tip of his cock.

All of a sudden, he grabs your hand and takes it away from his length, he then takes your other hand to pin it against the bed. He hovers above you as he kisses you again, his tongue prying open your mouth to taste more of you.

You can feel him rubbing his length between your folds and you spread your legs open so he can do it more, making you drenched than you already are.

It's obvious to you now that you want him, you want him so bad and what you want is only inches away from you, and you can feel how much he wants you.

"Put it in," you breathlessly say against his lips.

Minho wastes no time to position himself between your legs. He then holds his cock, lubricating it with your essence and giving it a few pumps to finally aims it toward your entrance.

The more time he takes to be inside you, the more impatient you get.

"Put it deep inside me," you demand, opening your legs wider for him.

Yet Minho keeps teasing your entrance, heightening your anticipation and the tension in the room, making you arching your back at him.

When he finally pushes in, he only inserts the tip. It's just the tip but Gosh! It feels good already when he starts thrusting at a slow, steady pace.

"That's it," you say, keeping your waist afloat to take more of him, "all the way in."

Minho is just as impatient. He takes your wish as his command and pushes the rest of his length into you, hitting you deep inside that you blank out and you can't hear your own scream of pleasure.

It only registered to you now that it's all real once you take a look at how his cock is fully buried deep inside you and there's nothing like the feeling of finally having your desire fulfilled. Minho feels so good inside you, every inch of his length fills you perfectly like he was made just for you.

"Oh..." you loudly moan as he starts moving.

You're in and out of you at how hard he's thrusting into you that it reverberates throughout your body and in the middle of it, you manage to look at him, his face is masked with pleasure from the way his eyes are half shut and his lips pressed together.

Maybe the two of you want it so much that the sex feels rushed and a little rough, almost animalistic even. You can feel you're about to cum and so is he.

"Don't cum inside," you warn him before bringing his head close for a sloppy kiss on his lips.

In return, Minho goes sloppy with his thrusts that the bed quakes along with his movements and you're gripping the sheet to hold on to. He's twitching inside you and your legs are shaking. The knot in your stomach keeps tightening and you feel like exploding at any minute now.

He incessantly thrusts into you while you keep gripping the sheet, he probably senses that you're on the brink of climaxing and takes you there, sending you into your release with your eyes screwed shut, seeing white. He cums not long after you and keeps himself deep into you, completely forgetting your warning.

When it occurs to you that he completely forgot about your warning, you slowly push him away and force him to pull out of you.

"I told you not to cum inside," you whine.

Minho's eyes fixated on the way his cum drips out of you, pearly white and glistening wet, inviting him to taste. He finds a way to solve it by settling his head between your legs and licking your mixed juices off of your cunt and not hesitating to swallow it. He sucks on your gushing hole before using his tongue to insert it, he makes sure to not leave any drop of his cum in you.

Watching him eating you and swallowing his own cum is getting you off in the best way, you suddenly don't mind it that much that he cum inside you. If anything, you want him to fill you so you get to watch him do it all over again.

"Stop, Minho! Stop!" You tell him, tugging at his hair to stop him from diving further into your wetness.

He abruptly stops and lifts his head with his mouth and chin glistening wet with your essence. You grab him by the front of his shirt and make him hover above you again. You know you already got what you want and it's time to stop.

What are you going to do now? You ask yourself.

Seize the chance. This is probably the last time you ever had this chance and this could be the one and only chance. You roll him over and straddle him, thinking of having him again for the last time, selfishly.

Taking a moment for this could be the only chance you get to do it, you look at him and his beautiful face, and you allow yourself to kiss his lips. You're running your hands down his clothed chest and patiently unbuttoning his shirt, then part it open to reveal his toned upper half body.

It's only fair if you get to touch him all over too so you do it, using your hands and your lips next, it's just you and miles and miles of his warm, honey skin.

Minho lets you do everything as he lays on his back, watches you kissing every inch of his abdomen, and eventually has him in your mouth again. He props his hands against the bed to see how your lips wrapped around his cock.

After a while, you suddenly pull out and gasp for air, "We have to stop."

He sits up on the bed and puts your hair away from your face, "But I don't want to stop," he says, then continues putting your hair away to the back so he can kiss your neck, chest, and breasts.

They're just words, they've been just words that you say in vain and have no effect to make you stop whatsoever. You only say that just to remind you that this feels so wrong but it feels good to do it.

You sit on his lap and position his cock at your entrance again, slowly, you lower yourself on him. You let out a mewl as you take him in little by little, feeling his girth stretching you out.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks you with his hands cradling your head in between.

"We have to," you sigh with your eyes closed, overwhelmed by his cock that buries deep inside you.

"I don't want to," he breathlessly says, holding you by the waist, guiding you to start moving.

Putting your arms around his shoulders for support, you're switching between pulsating and rolling your hips around him as he latches his lips on your neck and chest.

Somehow, he feels bigger and harder inside you, and he fills you better, therefore, you just want to keep feeling his length around you. However, in the middle of it, your logic fights to come out of you.

"This is wrong," you breathlessly mutter.

"Mmh-hmm," he hums against your lips, mindlessly answering to you.

"This is so wrong, Minho," you say again as you keep moving to chase your high.

If this is wrong then why it feels so good? If this is wrong then you never want to be right. If this is wrong then you want to be a sinner, forever.

"Oh, I can't do this anymore," you cry, it's unclear whether it's the body or your conscience speaking.

"Keep going, keep going," he repeatedly mutters through his gritted teeth, watching you bouncing on his cock.

The sex is more intense and harder than the previous one, you keep holding your breath even though you're running out of air. Your nails dug into his skin, your mouth locked with his lips, and you feel a sheen of sweat forming on your skin.

It all comes down to the one moment when everything hits you all at once. Other than the wave of dopamine and oxytocin that surge through your body, you feel good, you feel light and happy, but underneath that, you feel that bitter feeling, guilt that is gnawing and eating you alive from the inside.

You open your eyes and find Minho looking at you with a soft gaze and it feels tender that you feel like crying, or you're about to as you feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

"Oh, God! What have I done?" You roughly brush the hair stuck to your moist forehead.

"It's okay," Minho says, trying to justify this act of betrayal.

"Oh, my God!" You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to stop you from crying.

Minho gently holds your chin and softly presses a kiss on your lips as if he's trying to take the pain away but that's useless because you caused this yourself and he's a part of the problem.

But his kiss no longer holds the same effect, you feel restless the more he kisses you so you slowly pull away and keep a safe space between you and him.

"Let's just stop," you say with a sigh and then rush to get off his lap. You lowly gasp from the sudden emptiness and once your feet touch the floor, you're staggering backward.

Then, you feel it, his hot cum that drips out of you and down your inner thigh.

"I can help you with that," Minho offers.

You immediately hold your hand up at him and firmly say, "Just stop!"

You start fixing your dress, putting your arm in the straps, and pulling them to your shoulders. You look around for your underwear and once you find it, you put it on.

"Kim can't know about this," you meekly say as you pull the hem of your dress and smooth them down.

There's no looking back at it now. You've got what you wanted and now it's time to move on. You turn the door knob and head out without saying anything else.

Rejoining the party downstairs, you immediately head to the kitchen to get a drink but on the way there, someone catches you by the hand.

"Come, dance with me!" Kim says with a grin, pulling you with her to the middle of the room.

"Kim, I–" you can't find anything to say to her without the guilt clogging your throat, "I need a drink."

"Here. Have mine!" She hands you her cup.

"I'll get us drinks and get back to you, okay?" You kindly refuse her but she won't let go of your hand.

"Oh, come on, it's my favorite song!" She pleads with her puppy eyes, making you feel worse than you already are.

Seeing her and how oblivious she is to what you and Minho have done is breaking your heart.

That brings you to the third and last statement: That will be the first and the last time you've had sex with Minho.

-

Things are going back to normal. Or that's what it seems to you.

You're still roommates with Kim and she's still oblivious about what you and Minho did behind her back which means he keeps true to his promise.

And yes, he still comes to the apartment but it doesn't bother you as it used to. You learn that your friendship with Kim is far more valuable than his boyfriend's cock, in fact, you've been taking her kindness for granted.

So for these past few days, you've been trying to avoid them as much as possible. You purposely come home late from work and if you do find them together in the apartment, you make excuses to stay in your bedroom.

Fewer interactions means fewer chances of this guilt from bringing you down further.

The new plan is to get your own place as soon as possible and for that to happen, you have to start looking for it.

Today, Gaspard offers to help you check a few places and it's also the perfect getaway than staying in the apartment. You quietly get dressed and slip out of your bedroom to find Kim catches you while dunking her teabag into her cup.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

You don't want to tell her about it yet that you plan on moving out soon so you make up an excuse on the spot, "Just getting a few things for work, yeah," you lie.

She tosses the teabag into the trash and uses a spoon to stir it, "Just getting a few things for work, huh?"

"Yeah, I need new work shoes," you lie again, seamlessly this time.

"And you think you don't need my help?"

"No, no," you hastily reply, "I just know how much you like staying in on the weekends."

"I would to go out on the weekend too."

Kim keeps misunderstanding you so you decide to tell her, "I'm going out with Gaspard," you admit, but keep the details from her.

Kim lets out a laugh and puts down her cup of tea, "Oh, my God! Why did you lie about it?"

"I don't know. It feels weird," you awkwardly answer.

"Why would it be weird? Cause he's my friend?"

"Yeah..." you meekly say.

She laughs again and comes up to you, "Why would it be weird that my roommate is going out with my good friend?"

That's true, this is nothing compared to fucking your roommate's boyfriend. You swallow the guilt that crawls out of your throat.

"I can lend you my shoes to match it with that cute dress?" She offers, kind as always.

"No, it's fine. It's comfortable this way," you say, opting for the sneakers you're wearing since you're going to do a lot of walking today.

"As long as you're comfortable," she says, fixing your hair as she speaks.

The front door opens and the two of you are turning your heads to see who's coming, it's none other than Minho. You hurriedly sling your purse around your shoulder and ready to leave.

"I'd better get going," you tell Kim, giving her a quick hug.

"You can come home as late as you want," she jokingly says as she hugs you back, "Actually, don't bother coming home tonight."

You laugh it off and pull away while ignoring Minho who walks to the kitchen to get something out of the fridge. You head for the door and wave bye at Kim before getting out.

-

The search for a new place comes to fruition, you have two potential living spaces but the only problem is you can't afford the rent, yet.

You end the day with a hearty dinner also as a treat for Gaspard for being so helpful and patient with you. He's simply a great guy to be with and you wonder why didn't you want to fuck him instead of Minho.

Oh fuck, you think about Minho again and it reminds you that he's in the apartment now so you stay out as late as you can. You consider Gaspard's offer to come and visit his place but you don't want to give him the impression that this is a date.

It's too casual to be counted as a date in the first place but you make sure to promise him a proper one next time.

"Maybe next time when I'm not sweaty and the day is not as humid as today," you kindly refuse the offer.

"I agree," he says as his hair turns a lot curler in this humidity and shyly brushes it to the back.

He walks you to the entrance of your apartment building and you turn on your feet to face him, "Thank you for today," you sincerely say.

"No worries. I had fun today," he coyly says with a smile.

You know he wants to kiss you and you want to kiss him too because he's just so attractive and fun to be with, he's a great guy... you can list so many reasons why you should kiss him so you muster up the courage to do it.

You stand on your tiptoe and press a kiss on his lips, putting your hand on his shoulder for support and Gaspard returns the kiss with so much gentleness with his hand cupping your jaw.

In the middle of it, you come to a realization that you kiss him for so many reasons but not because you like him. You slowly pull away from the kiss and quickly put on a smile for him.

"Goodnight, Gaspard," you mutter.

He allows himself to place a gentle caress on your cheek and smiles back at you as he says back, "Goodnight!"

The walk back to the apartment feels like a punishment. At least, it's late enough that you're sure Kim is already asleep by now so you quietly unlock the door, pushing it open without making any noise, and walk through the living room until you get to the safety of your room.

You kick your shoes off, throw your purse onto the bed, and take off your jacket, just standing there in your dress facing the huge mirror with your reflection staring back at you.

"Do you need help with that?" Minho asks through the cracks of your door.

You hate it that he's still here and you're happy to see him, you're not answering but he comes to your aid anyway. He stands right behind you and slowly unzips your dress for you.

It must be intentional the way his knuckles graze your skin as he pulls the zipper down your back.

The memories from that night come back to you and unlock all the feelings that you try to keep at the bottom of your heart.

Minho then places his hand on your shoulder and looks at you through the mirror, "Do you need help with anything else?" He asks with a voice so low it's almost like a whisper.

You turn your head to the side and meet his gaze, "No."

All sorts of thoughts come rushing through your head but it's the same contradicting questions: Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

Those questions going around your head and won't stop bothering you until you make up your mind.

You turn around to face him and notice how close he's standing in front of you, so close that you can feel the heat his body is emitting.

"But I'll help myself," you say and then kiss him.

Well, you guess people can tell which one is the lie now.

-

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[birdofmay]

And again, as always: It would be nice if you guys could stop making this about yourselves. Whenever we post about our particular experience, people who normally can speak, but used to struggle with it, or struggle under certain circumstances, add on something to talk about themselves. This eventually leads to people talking about something completely different, and ignoring what the post was about at first. Make your own post. We are constantly spoken over even in online spaces, and that's especially unfair because we struggle to communicate even more than other autistics. Don't derail posts about people who never learned to speak from the very beginning and won't learn it ever. That's unfair.

Sometimes I see people on here who want to be good allies to nonverbal autistics, but at the same time don't understand nonverbal autism at its core.

Most of us, who are nonverbal "from birth", struggle with language, to communicate, and to understand complex concepts. That's why we never learned to speak at all, ever.

But their strategy is to "hand us the mic" and ask "What are some misconceptions about nonverbal autism you'd like to discuss?" and expect us to respond.

"Misconceptions" is an abstract concept. Most of us can't just come up with an answer; my mind, for example, goes completely blank when I read this.

I wanted to talk about allies assuming that our brain works similar for at least 2 weeks, but it's only now that I am able to write something. 2 weeks!

Sure, there are autistics who can't speak due to apraxia, and who don't struggle with language otherwise, apart from the "not being able to speak with their mouth" part. But that's rare.

Even my ability to express myself well is rare. I am not your average nonverbal autistic. I am very skilled compared to the rest of us.

One thing about "never learning to speak" is that most of us really really struggle with language, and with understanding big words and topics. Not everyone, but many of us. That's why most of us aren't on social media.

Whenever I write "educational" posts, my inbox is flooded with follow up questions I just can't answer without help. Because most of the time I don't understand the text. I regularly have to close my inbox because people assume that I can process the text and respond like everyone else can. But having these abilities is an exception within autistics who never learned to speak from the very beginning. It seems normal, but those people just are the loudest. Because they're on social media and love to participate in discussions.

Most of us can't do that.

I'm glad that I made some speaking friends here who made an effort to understand us thoroughly, and they now often repeat what we think and want "but louder". Listen to them, most of us can't advocate for ourselves. They're not speaking over us, they're helping us to communicate without draining our energy.

And for everything else I have some posts linked in my pinned post because I can't just participate in discussions.

[ivhmavie]

you’re too sweet for me

hwang in ho

first of all, just a little advice that english its not my first language! be kind

༶ he knew that you were too good for him, that hi’s world was way to cruel and defiant to a girl like you. The games, the carnage, the involvement of VIPs, the arrogance, the money.

༶ but oh, everytime that he sees you, he forgets that. The monotonous days that he spent locked in his small apartment, without spending a cent of his prize, began to have a purpose when he knew you.

༶ your laugh, that he heard before seeing you, your hands looking for something to hold on to so you don't fall, your shy look when you apologize for tripping over him and your gentle tone of voice. The joy that only the joviality and naivety of someone who did not see bad things in your eyes.

༶ you were an interesting little thing to him. Something that took him out of his automatic state on days when he waited until the next game.

༶ it had been a long time since he allowed himself to think of a woman as anything other than a one night fuck.

༶ his routine was messy. Normally he would spend part of the morning with a glass of whiskey while talking to the VIPs about the next edition of the games or evaluating the people recruited for the game.

༶ and the more you two talked, the more he realized that you were too sweet. Trying to balance your study routine and still take care of yourself.

༶ the first time you went out, he couldn't say for sure what had made you shy. Whether it was the expensive restaurant, which you clearly couldn't afford with any part-time job as a student. Or if it was because he was older than you. Whether it was the experience, or his money that intimidated you, he liked it.

༶ for him, it was fun to see you turn into a shy mess, not knowing where to look, fidgeting with your own hands.

༶ honestly, he likes seeing you shy. Whether it's because he took you to a chic and expensive place, because he gave you a very pricey gift and you don't know how to react, or because of the comments from people who see you together, even when your friend talks about the "hot, rich old man" that you’re going out with

“soo, did you two already..?” your best friend asks sitting on your bed, watching you open another gift from in-ho. Not that you were complaining, but you didn't know how to reciprocate while he spoiled you so much.

“did we what?” you ask a little confused, turning your present okhar away to look at your friend. After a while, you got used to her being excited to see you dating someone, especially a rich older man who treats you like his wife.

“god, you’re so naive, I’m talking about sex” when you heard what she said, you looked at her a little disconcerted as you finish opening the package and see a beautiful pair of boots, it was obvious that she would want to know the details. And you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it yet.

“noo!! we did not, it’s still a little to early for that”you respond, laughing and throwing one of the pairs of boots at her as a joke. “now come here, I need help with this other gift”

༶ and yes, sex with him is for sure a thing.

༶ he’s a natural dom. Even though he likes the view of having you on top, he loves having you on the bottom. He's a big, muscular man, and he's not at all modest about it. So having a small girl underneath him is exciting.

༶ he likes to hold one of your hands when you are underneath, the other hand on the side of your head. But sometimes, when things are at their roughest, he likes to have a firm hand around your neck, kissing you while his other hand travels between your legs and massages the inside of your thighs.

༶ afterwards he would like to stay in bed, you lying with your head on his chest while he pours himself a glass of drink. Hearing you talk about that mean teacher who is very strict with you, or about the girls you and your friends don't like.

༶ he allows himself to think it's funny. While your mind is filled with the things you want to buy, your care routine and the tests you have to study for, he thinks about games, receiving VIP guests and especially how to keep everything in order.

༶ when he has to return to the island for the games, he invents a business trip, you are a little confused, because he had never told you about his work. So he uses as an excuse the story that he comes from a rich family and is going to visit some important old friends.

༶ during game week, he seriously considered telling you about everything. You missed him, considering that you were practically never apart from each other since you started dating. He had even planned to ask you to live with him, having even bought an expensive and large apartment for that.

༶ after a while, he started taking you to some events that he, as the frontman, attended, like the Halloween. Even if he hadn't told you exactly what he worked with, you could already tell that it wasn't something common, but you didn't care, you just wanted him.

༶ so when he tells you about the games, you accept it. Of course, you're so good to him, you'd never doubt him when he said they were just giving people a better opportunity.

༶ in the next edition you would watch the games with him. In-ho sat on the couch, a glass of whiskey neat in his hand, with you snuggled next to him, hiding your face in his chest every time someone got shot or got a bad bruise.

༶ he likes to admire you. He knows you are bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine and as sweet as a grape. hee knows he's the opposite of those cute and innocent things, but he can't resist keeping you close, pulling you more and more into his world, even if you were too sweet for him.

[heavenlymorals]

Details that I've noticed about Arthur Morgan-

-He, for the most part, despises male touch, especially if it's overly affectionate. He gets tense anytime a man hugs him and wants it to be over as quick as possible (Jamie, Mickey) and he looks visibly offended when Professor Bell touches him. He even sometimes gets annoyed when Dutch touches him on his shoulder, someone who he considers a father figure.

-On the flip side, he does not mind female touch at all. He even initiates it sometimes (Tilly, the girl at Beaver Hollow). Now one could argue that they were high stress situations, but if Tilly was a dude, he would've just set her free, make a snide remark, give her a gun, and then he'd expect her to help him with the fighting. He is completely cool with the nun giving him a hug and doesn't get offended when Mary Beth touches his hand in their therapy session.

- He seems to be pretty well read. He knows Shakespeare, with Romeo and Juliet, and Icarus. He makes other literary references. This is probably due to Dutch. Dutch is clearly very well read and cultured. However, Arthur seems more interested in practical works like guides then philosophy and stories, given that the only book he has on his tent desk is a plant guide.

- He's great at remembering faces and less so on remembering names.

- He does have an amazing propensity to remember physical features, like how he is able to create amazing portraits of the people he meets without consistent reference. It's incredible and works back to the whole great at remembering faces thing. Same goes for animals.

- He is very curious. He is always touching things, looking at things, critiquing things, and trying to understand how they work.

- He generally refuses to be emotionally open with men and does it only with women- this could be due to the idea of the Cult of Domesticity. I've made a post about it before. Compare him speaking with the nun to Reverend Swanson. Compare him speaking to John about Dutch leaving him to him speaking to Sadie about Dutch leaving him.

- He is very connected or is fond of artistic people. He and Mary Beth talk about their journals. He is fond of Albert Mason's photography and helps him out. He is interested in Charles Chataney's artistic work, even if he doesn't like it or connect with it.

- Since a lot of camp members respond to Arthur's antagonizations with something like "not again" or "I knew I'd be next", it's safe to assume Arthur will go off on people from time to time, regardless if you play high or low honor.

- Does not have a fixed temperament. In some missions, he is more energetic and in others, he is more downtrodden. Very realistic and I fucking love it.

- Has direct eye content at all times- will look anyone in the eye and does not give a fuck. NPCs will look away from him if he stares at them.

- Gets mad when men don't behave like men, especially when it concerns women. He gets pissed at John for not stepping up and being a man to his family. He gets annoyed and even pissed off when asking why Beau couldn't have helped Penelope Braithwaite as she is his woman.

- Given how the camp falls to shit whenever Arthur isn't donating, we can safely conclude that Arthur is the most valuable member of that camp, bar maybe Hosea and Dutch.

- He is very reminiscent of the Dark Romantic, which is really interesting as a lot of times, it can be looked at as the middle ground between Romantacism and Realism, two ideologies that were very popular in the 19th century. I will make a full analysis regarding this later.

- Introverted, but not shy at all. In fact, he's very charismatic and is just as good as dealing with people as Dutch and Hosea (The Riverboat Mission) This 'dumb, mumbling' cowboy thing he's dumbed down to in the fandom is an insult to his character.

- He probably acted like a father figure to Jamie Gillis when he was still with Mary, given the fact that he taught him how to ride a horse. Will probably also make a full post about this later.

- Some people say that Arthur is around 5'10-11. Others say He's 6'0-3. Whatever his height actually is, he's still way taller than the average man during this time period, who was around 5'6. Now imagine that with muscles and armed to the teeth- fucking terrifying.

- Very sentimental. He keeps a photo of his supposedly no good Pa and wears his hat. He keeps a photo of his mother who he doesn't really remember at all. He keeps a photo of his dog, a horseshoe that probably belonged to a dead and beloved horse. He keeps a flower from his mother. Keeps a photo of Mary as well. If he had a photo of Isaac, he'd probably keep that too.

-Arthur died at 36 years old from Tuberculosis if you play high honor. The real gunslinger and outlaw Doc Holliday died at the same exact age and the same exact way.

- Genuinely doesn't give a fuck about movements, social issues, and cultural issues, but does care about individual people.

- I love him

- So fucking much

- 😃

[kurikive]

CASUAL | danielle marsh.

— "is it casual now?"

6thmember!reader, situationship/fwb but nothing sexual, angst, fluff at the end i promise, dani swears, reader is a (closeted) lesbian, reader is horrible at reading people, written in 2nd person, they work it out on the remix

warnings : A LOT of internalized homophobia !! reader refers to herself multiple times as a predator but it's just from fear and insecurity, nothing actually predatory is happening in the story. extremely brief mentions of starvation

wc: 5.4k words

inspired by: Casual — Chappell Roan

you and danielle marsh are friends. more than co-workers, you're friends. although you don't have that much in common except for your age, it was easy to adapt to the harsh environment of the k-pop industry's training system with someone like danielle by your side.

she's always been a ray of sunshine in everyone's lives, you're not the exception. if you were in a bad mood, tired from waking up in the early morning everyday, worked to the point of exhaustion, danielle would be there rubbing your shoulders and saying something sweet like

"you're doing great, y/n! keep up!"

and then you'd smile at her, and she'd smile back, and you'd feel so much better, thanks to danielle.

you didn't have many interests in common. music taste, fashion sense, movie picks, food preferences, personality types, if anything you were almost her complete opposite. and yet, she sat in your bed every night while you scrolled on your phone, talking for hours until it the clock hits midnight and she goes back to her room.

danielle did most of the talking, and you carefully listened to everything she said. the enthusiasm in which she enunciated all her words was endearing to listen to, and it couldn't not bring a smile out of you. the girl never forgot to give you your chance to speak too, trying to get to know you better everyday.

there was one thing she could not know, however. that you're a lesbian.

if it was hard enough being gay in korea, it was ten times harder when you were about to debut in a girl group, in one of the biggest companies in the industry at the moment nonetheless.

there were times where the members would all gather and have girl talks, talking about things like movies, celebrity crushes, past boyfriends and all that stuff, and you felt left out every single time.

sometimes it's more a curse than a blessing that danielle notices everything, because when she asks, "who's your celebrity crush, y/n?", "what do you look for in a boy, y/n?", "have you ever had a boyfriend, y/n?", you never know how you're supposed to respond.

it wasn't safe. it'll never be safe.

you've known the girls for almost a year and there has never been an indication of the way they felt about the LGBTQ+ community. hanni was your safest bet, she seemed the most open minded, but then again you can never be sure.

they were all so painfully straight.

so you try your best to answer vaguely,

"i don't know.", "i'm not sure, i don't really think about that." they complain a little about your mysteriousness, but it doesn't take long for them to let it go and move on.

you don't know how long you have to keep pretending you're not sure. you are sure.

you like girls.

you don't want to keep pretending you don't. but how would they feel?.

they'd feel unsafe, uncomfortable, scared, exposed to a threat, a possibility of being prey to a predator, a little voice in your head tells you.

but you're not. you're not a predator. they know you're not a predator. you'd never do anything to hurt them, or make them uncomfortable.

so you keep pretending. but the shell is starting to crack, and a knot in your throat gets tighter everytime you hear your members ask "is he your type?".

your debut is only a couple months away. you pray to god hanni has noticed by now. she's your roommate after all.

you start playing some specific songs without your headphones in hopes she walks by or enters the room and notices. you hope she's the one that asks. but she doesn't, she never mentions the songs, ever.

so you move on to movies and shows.

when she catches you watching heartbreak high in the living room TV, she only says "oh they're aussies, right?"

when she sees you watching heartstopper on your phone while eating dinner she just says, "kit connor is soooo handsome."

she doesn't mention it when she goes into your room and you're playing but i'm a cheerleader on your laptop. but hanni has caught on.

and the next time she goes into your shared room, she closes the door behind her. you're in your bed, and you're staring at each other, both of your eyes shine with nervousness.

"can i ask you something?" she says from the door, so shakily you start fearing she's not going to take it like you wish she would.

"sure." you didn't mean for your voice to come out as quiet as it did.

it's a nerve-wracking couple of seconds watching hanni take a seat in her own bed and face you. she takes a big breath before asking, "do you- no, sorry. are you... gay?"

yes, yes, yes. i am a lesbian. i like girls. you want to scream, but the realization of reality strangles you and your throat feels so tight, and you can't say anything.

"it's not like there's anything wrong about it, i'm just... asking." she tries. you can tell she's trying. it's sweet that she's trying.

"yes." it's a struggle to get it out, and your heart starts racing, but just being able to feels like such a relief that you might start crying. but then fear washes down on you again when you can't read hanni, at all.

"i'm really sorry, hanni. i promise i'm not weird or predatory or anything, i would never try to make you uncomfortable and i'm sorry if i ever did. i promise i don't like you like that, not that you're not attractive or anything, that's not what i mean at all. i just- i would never like you like that, you're like my sister and i promise that i'm still the same y/n you met, i really hope this doesn't change anything in our-" she cuts off your rambled apology-slash-explanation with a hug.

"it doesn't. i promise." it hits you now, just now, that hanni knows. she knows.

"please don't tell the others." you're choked up, and that's the only thing you could say before the tears in your eyes caught up. i don't know how they'll take it, you want to say, but the only thing that comes out is a broken sob.

"i won't. it's okay, y/n."

you've grown closer to hanni than you'd ever thought you would. you spend your nights in your room talking and laughing and watching funny videos you send each other.

it's been a few months since you've debuted and you couldn't be happier. you had someone to rely on, someone who knows all your secrets and can trust her with them, and vice versa.

your career has skyrocketed and your popularity is through the roof, and although there are always negative consequences that come with that fame, it's been mostly great on your end.

danielle doesn't really hang out in your room to talk anymore. if you're honest, you kind of miss it, but she surely has her reasons, and you don't think too much about it.

you're currently in one of the vocal practice rooms at HYBE, setting up your phone to do a phoning live. you'd just finish your vocal practice and you had asked for permission beforehand.

after a few minutes of talking with your fans, recommending movies and talking about food, you hear a knock on your door. quite strange.

"yeah? who is it?" you yell loud enough to no cause any ruckus. the door slightly opens and a face peeks inside, "it's me!" danielle's signature smile shining brightly at you, "i saw you were live and wanted to come hang out."

you didn't even need to tell her anything before she was coming right inside the room to grab a chair and sit beside you. "well, come hang out then!" you face your screen to see danielle struggling to bring the chair closer to you, and you chuckle a bit. "dani's here, guys!"

danielle has always been very touchy; with everyone, that is. today was not the exception, resting her head on your shoulder, holding your hand and locking your fingers together, nuzzling her face in your neck, it's all things you're already used to.

it's never been more than just friendly showcases of affection, to you, at least. and you've also never been irritated by it, but there's some guilt you try to suppress.

you don't want to push her away, you're not uncomfortable with her actions, what is uncomfortable is her potentially finding out your sexuality and thinking you let her shower you with affection for your own amusement. you fear it. but you don't want to think about that right now.

you think about it again, however, when you go back home and open social media only to see videos and threads with thousands of likes and views compiling every sweet moment of affection that happened just mere hours ago.

there's a pang in your chest when you see the tens of delusional comments talking of how much they'd like to see you and your friend as a couple. it feels like you're being strangled, and you suddenly feel unwell, so you close the app and turn off your phone.

"i should watch a movie."

you fully believe your debut was your prime. everyday gets harder, scandal after scandal, comeback after comeback, day after day. you work really hard, your members know, your fans know. but it never looks like it's going to get easier.

you win awards, win some more, get another important deal, shoot another session, write another song, the cycle repeats although not in the same order. like a fucked up loop. you're so fucking tired.

you wonder how hyein is holding up. you care a lot for her, like your little sister. she seems okay, eating a bowl of yogurt and fruits in the living room with haerin and hanni. are you the only one having a hard time?

you need to relieve your stress, and there's really no other option other than going to the gym to work out. so you go back to your room to lazily change into your practice clothes and grab your backpack, "i'm going to the gym." you try your best to sound at least a little enthusiastic as you walk behind the living room couch.

"when are you coming back?" you hear danielle ask from the kitchen, a twinge of concern in her voice. "it might start raining soon."

"i won't take long. if i see it starts to get cloudy i'll get going." you try to put her worries at ease. your gym doesn't have windows, though.

you shouldn't have gone. you're not even supposed to go anyway. it's raining hard, and it might start storming soon. but your manager can't know you're here. one of the many downsides of being in a group with four minors and two barely-adults, you can't call any of them to pick you up. so fuck it, you're taking the public transportation.

kind of extremely risky considering you are literally in newjeans, but okay. what else is there to do? what you failed to consider is the only bus stop being about five blocks away. and the bus doesn't drop you off even remotely close to the dorms. so you're gonna be running in the rain and, fuck it again, you do just that.

the first five blocks to the bus stop weren't that bad, you didn't get soaked like you imagined, blocking most raindrops with your backpack over your head. you really should've just brought an umbrella, though.

good thing you brought a mask, at least. nobody seemed to recognize you on the bus. you take a seat as close as possible to the exit and take out your phone to hurriedly text the group chat.

i got a bit caught up, im omw

domt worry 2 much

ill b there soon :))

minji responds with a thumbs up, hanni leaves an "idiot" that gets a like reaction by haerin. you see danielle write and then stop writing about 3 times, but she ends up not sending anything at all, so you just turn off your phone and look outside for your stop.

it only takes a couple minutes of waiting to see the silhouette of your dorm building. you get off your seat and wait for the bus to halt at the next stop to get off. it's raining a bit harder, but there's nothing you can do except wing it.

and when you get off, you immediately put your backpack on top of your head and start running as fast as you could towards your dorm. you get some looks, but no one can possibly be able to recognize you, not at the speed you're going.

after a few minutes, your legs start getting tired not only from running, but all the exercise you did hours earlier. another thing you failed to consider in this mediocre, careless plan.

but you're almost there. and you're almost not soaked.

by the time you reach your building the only thing about you that isn't wet is your scalp. you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, it's probably one of your members, but you're almost there, you can't pick up.

you enter the gates of the apartment, and you're probably going to make a mess on the floor on the elevator, but your legs can't take it anymore, and you thank any god that hears your prayers when the elevator doors open and it's empty. you can't take more embarrassment right now.

the doors open once again and you try not to make much noise as you run towards your dorm. someone inside must've heard you fumbling with your keys because as soon as you find the right one the door is already open, a concerned danielle with a just as worried minji behind her. you smile at the sight of them. "hello!"

"get your ass inside!" you hear hanni shout from the couch.

you're drying your hair in your room after taking a shower and explaining the situation to your group members. just as you're about to turn on your phone to see what time it is you hear a knock on your door, "can i come in?" it's danielle.

"yup. come on in!" you answer a lot more energized than a couple hours before. danielle's not wearing her usual bright smile, but rather a more worried expression. "y/n, can we talk?"

you're confused. you've never heard or seen her like this before. she's obviously been worried before, she cares about you just as much as the others, but this time it's different. "yeah, what's up?" you try your best to respond calmly and tap a stop in the bed beside yourself, which danielle gladly takes.

"are you okay?" she asks as she settles down at your side. what?

"what do you mean?" you don't notice it but you start fidgeting with your own fingers. danielle notices.

"it's just," she tries looking somewhere else, but she can't help the need of looking into your eyes all the time, looking for some sort of sign, some crack, "i can tell you're stressed. you're tired and... if you need to talk i just want you to know that i'm here." her eyes are dripping honey and her hand is so warm when she grabs yours.

you show her a sluggish smile, "thanks, dani. i appreciate that." when you look back, her face is already finding it's way to the crook of your neck. "i'm just a little tired of everything. it really feels like i'm doing the same things all over again. i know we've achieved a lot as a group but i feel like i have nothing going on for myself." you sigh, danielle says nothing, urging you to continue.

"all the songs i pitch get turned down, my other drafts feel too personal to release as a group song. every song i write with the group in mind feels, i don't know, empty?"

your eyes unfocus as a wave of emptiness washes over you and the only thing you feel is a water droplet from your bangs fall and travel down your temples. and also the warmth shared by danielle's hand in yours.

"i just feel like nothing's going on in my life." you feel danielle's head leave your shoulder and you turn to look at each other at the same time, "i think i know how you feel." she says with the sweetest eyes ever.

"thanks for listening, dani." you smile at her, but it feels so strange when she doesn't smile back. she just stares, right through you. her eyes are so pretty; you've always known but this is the first time you've looked at them directly for so long (there's really nothing else for you to look at when she's so close to your face).

oh, yeah. in a sudden moment you were inches apart. you don't remember moving so it must've been danielle.

you don't really understand what's going on. maybe this is an eye contact battle and you're not supposed to blink. and you think for a moment you had it easy because suddenly danielle's pretty eyes are nowhere to be found and you're staring at her eyelids and long eyelashes instead.

before your brain even thinks of giving you the chance to mutter "i win!" in a silly manner, you feel your own lips getting shut. covered, enveloped by another set of softness.

oh. this is not what you expected at all.

what are you even supposed to do right now? well, pull away, obviously. but that could could give danielle the impression that you hate everything about this and, really, that's not true at all. it's good. well, not good, but- danielle is not horrible at kissing.

what even is happening, anyway? i mean, you're kissing. but what else? nothing feels like it's moving; it feels like time's stopped. there also hasn't been anything that has lead up to this happening.

so you're just left there, paralyzed, in shock, waiting until danielle pulls away. just waiting until she's done with you. until she's satisfied.

and it's until danielle notices that you're not moving that she realizes what she's done. she pulls away, shaken and distraught.

"y/n, i am so sorry. i don't know what came over me, i am so so so sorry. i really didn't mean to do that. please forgive me, y/n, i am really so sorry." at this point, danielle's voice starts to break. "i don't know why i did that, it's just, i don't know, you just looked good a-and we were just close and-"

"it's okay, dani. i know."

"no, y/n, i really am sorry. i-"

"dani, i swear it's fine." you grab her shoulder to reassure her, but is anything really fine right now? "i..." you don't really know what to say next. "i don't, like, hate you or anything. i understand things like that happen. i'm not mad at you."

"really?" you've never seen her tear up so fast. you definitely didn't expect her to tear up at this. but you know the feeling of guilt so well you can't help but feel sympathy for her. "are you sure? i promise it won't happen again."

"i'm sure, dani. you could never do anything to make me hate you."

you smile at her, she sniffles. it's the last thing you hear before you hear the sound of her wristwatch's seconds ticking. you don't really know what's going through her head. you count about 34 ticks.

"did you hate it?" her voice isn't weak, but it is lower than you normally expect it to be.

you're stunned, but the way she looks at you so earnestly, with a hint of nervousness in her eyes forces you to answer within seconds, "n-no! dani, i didn't... hate it. it was just unexpected. i didn't really process it at first." it's the truth, but it feels so gut-wrenching to say.

another 20 ticks of quiet.

"can i do it again?"

hello? hello? what is going on? hello?

"i-i mean, if you want to." it sounds more like a question than a proper answer. and danielle takes it anyway.

you don't have any romantic feelings for danielle, that's for sure. she's said she doesn't have any feelings for you either. that's established. and yet when hanni is too caught up watching movies in the living room with minji and hyein, danielle is always there, sitting in your bed.

sometime's it's just little pecks while you cuddle and watch something she doesn't care much about. sometime's she's on the verge of kissing the living shit out of you.

it's never more than that. none of you let it be more than that. it's more than okay.

it's comfortable. it's casual.

and yet, every time it happens, you feel guilt eat at your stomach.

because danielle doesn't know. and she can't know.

it's not like this was your idea in the first place, it was danielle's. but the fact that you let her do it anyway could be predatory enough for her to feel unsafe if she ever did find out. even if she's the one who caused this all.

and never once do you think about yourself while it happens. it's not a moment for you, it's a moment for danielle to take. and you're okay with that. as long as she's okay with it.

you're okay with many things just because danielle is okay with them.

if danielle wants to watch a romcom, you watch a romcom. if danielle wants to eat plain yogurt, you eat plain yogurt. if danielle wants to kiss you, you let her kiss you.

it's not that big of a deal if there are no feelings involved. it's just a matter of believing that that's actually true.

you let her do whatever she wants because you're scared to do the taking. because taking feels like stealing, and doing feels like attacking. and you're so scared to hurt danielle that you forget you can also hurt yourself.

but if it's so casual, why doesn't she let go of your hand? why does she call you pretty everyday? why does she look at you with those pretty eyes like you're her whole world?

was the "i love you" she said yesterday something she meant as platonic love? is there such a thing as casual love?

was it just the sound of the raindrops on your window that made you hallucinate the sound of a love confession?

you don't eat anything for the rest of the day.

minji and hyein are visiting their parents. hanni and haerin are out of the country. and you're in the dorm kitchen trying to figure out how blurred the lines are while you mix the milk into your tea.

you feel your heart drop when you hear the sound of footsteps of the line-blurrer herself over the sounds of light rain. it hasn't stopped since the day before.

you don't want to feel anything right now, you don't want to hear anything right now.

she wraps her arms around your waist and says, "good morning." with that big bright smile on her face. at one point it started hurting when she did, but you don't remember when.

she smells like the candles you burnt in your room two days after hanni left. you were trying to get rid of danielle's scent from your room, but you couldn't tell her that, so you just said you were trying something new.

danielle notices you say nothing back, and your eyes are nowhere in particular. "watchu thinkin' about?" her always cheery tone gets you out of your trance, and she notices when you stop stirring the spoon in your cup. you're still silent for a bit, but she lets you take your time.

"i don't think we should do this anymore, danielle."

you tense up when her arms leave your waist, but it feels oddly freeing. you don't turn back to face her.

"what do you mean?"

"are we still casual?"

there's disbelief in danielle's voice when she speaks, "what are you talking about? of course we are!" but she sounds dishonest, in a way.

"really?" that's when you turn around, her eyes are wide and her cheeks are quite flushed but nothing about her seems guilty at all, "because saying "i love you" doesn't seem quite casual to me."

she scoffs, "y/n, i tell all my friends i love them. it's a normal thing!"

"i'd agree with you if we weren't kissing on the low. it's a little too much on top of that."

"i don't know what you think casual means but-"

"what i mean is we should stop before the lines start to blur, that's if they haven't already." you don't want to yell at her. you hope she understands before you have to raise your voice. "we are public figures, famous figures. if this goes wrong we can't go back and that could potentially ruin everything, not only for us but for our group."

"well, it can't go wrong if there's no feelings involved, can it?" danielle is usually playfully sassy, but she's never responded to you like this before.

"we're human, danielle. feelings can't be stopped." you're not too good at reading people, but you can see something has clicked in danielle's brain.

"what i'm getting is that you developed feelings for me while we were casual, is that right?" she seems so sure and confident that it annoys you. it frustrates you. and you want to cry.

"no, that's not what i said. but i am scared of it happening, and i want this to stop before it has the chance to."

"well, you should've thought of that before you said yes." you never really did.

"why are you upset, anyways?"

"b-because!" her voice gets louder, "i just wanted this to be casual, and now your telling me you're scared of catching feelings, it's just weird. that's all."

you sigh, "listen, i don't want this to end on a bad note. i just-"

"well, i don't want this to end at all!"

it takes you a minute to believe what you're hearing.

"a-are you hearing yourself?" it's shocking, it really is, "this is crazy, why are you being so selfish right now?"

"because it feels good! okay?!" danielle has completely let go of the loose strings of morality she was holding on to, "it fucking feels good, a-and you make me feel good. i like it when we kiss, and i like it when we cuddle and, and, i just like it, okay?!" that's the first time you've heard danielle curse in your entire life.

"okay, well, i'm glad you did. but i don't. i don't feel good at all." it's so scary and risky because you're two seconds away from telling her the truth, and this could potentially damage both your careers irreversibly, but you can't think of any lie or excuse that is true enough to keep hiding it.

"i drown in guilt every time we kiss and i feel like i'm choking when you look at me these days."

you've never seen her look so confused, like she really doesn't understand you. because she never had to.

"why?"

"i am a lesbian, danielle." you can't shatter, not now. "and it kills me because you'll never understand how hard it is to hide like this for so long. and yes, we hide this casual thing from our members, but after this is over you don't have to hide anything at all and i still have to hide everything."

she says nothing. her eyes soften, but you can't read them. not like you ever could.

"i didn't catch feelings for you, but i could, and you're not helping out. and you don't have to worry about that. you don't have to worry about your members being disgusted at you for something you can't change. you don't have to pretend. you don't have to be scared that you're making someone uncomfortable by simply existing beside them. i had to pretend i didn't care when you kissed me, i had to pretend to be okay when you kissed me again. i've been pretending to be okay with so much i don't know what being okay is anymore."

danielle still says nothing.

"but that's all gone to shit now, hasn't it?" your voice can't break now, but it does anyway, even when your not done speaking. "i can't be okay with everything. i can't be casual about everything, danielle. not anymore." there's a hot tear running down your cheek, but you try to hold yourself together.

"i never want to hurt you, ever, danielle. but i am seriously hurting myself. i am eating myself from inside out. there's nothing casual about that."

"i think i might be in love with you." is the first thing she says in minutes. and that's when you shatter completely. you turn around to leave your mug of now cold tea on the counter and you rest your elbows on it to hide your face in your hands.

"do you think that helps?" you're sobbing.

"i'm sorry. i know it doesn't. i just had a moment of realization and i think that's why i was so upset. i didn't want you to end this because i was in love with you since the start and didn't realize."

"this is fucking crazy." it really is, that's why you can't hold down the laugh of complete astonishment that leaves your lips. "do you realize how crazy this is? i just came out to you and you're- i don't even want to think about this."

"i'm really sorry, y/n." it's the first time you see guilt in danielle's face in a long time. "i really am. i really didn't know, i- i didn't know anything at all."

"you were upset of me potentially having feelings for you when it was you the whole time, huh?" this is no time or place to make jokes, you're literally crying as you speak. but this is hilarious. danielle seems to think so too given she also laughs.

"i don't know what i was thinking." she says, hiding her face in her palm in embarrassment.

"i wish i knew too." you say, "i never do."

"so what now? i mean, you clearly don't like me back." you don't understand how danielle does it. she never looks away, she faces the truth, something you're unable to do easily.

"that's a good question, i actually never thought about that." i mean, you thought the possibility of danielle ever liking a woman, let alone you, was at a mere 0.1%, can you blame yourself for not thinking of a solution to this?

"i mean, you did say you could."

"selfish asshole." you mutter to yourself, but danielle hears it anyways. "hey!"

"i'm crying right in front of you out of fear and frustration, have some respect, dude."

"i would say it wouldn't hurt to try but it clearly does so i don't know what you want to do." wow, danielle really could never do anything to make you hate her. nothing at all. "i don't mind being the selfless one this time."

"cheesy." she's always been like that, you can't say you hate it. "i'll reheat my tea and think about it."

danielle waits for you. maybe it wouldn't be so bad to risk falling in love with her too. you've risked it once.

the microwave beeps and you take your mug out. it's hot again. you turn to face danielle and she's still there, hasn't moved an inch. "i'm willing to give it a try. but nothing casual."

she shines you the widest grin you've ever seen from her. "nothing was ever casual, i fear."

"i still can't believe you cursed." you say as you walk past her to go to your room (that probably smells like danielle's perfume again).

"i did?!" she trails behind you. you nod. "i almost jumped."

"hey, am i the first one to know?"

"what, that i'm a lesbian?" she nods, now beside you. you shake your head after a sip of your tea.

"hanni knew."

"i'm not even the first? fuck..." is she doing this on purpose... she has to be, right?

"dude? hello?"

"don't dude me, i'm your future girlfriend." she hits your arm as you walk into your room. you don't know what you're gonna say to hanni when she comes back.

"confident much? shut up and pick a movie to watch." you'll figure it out later.

end.

🗒️ this wasn't as long as i thought it was gonna be THANK GOD

[sushiyuzu]

jealous kitty

warning: fluff — subby kitty!sylus / hybridkitty!sylus gets unexpectedly jealous when your friends come over & you talk about other guys 🐾😾

- second acc: @blushpawss

you notice it the first time when your friend stops by to drop off some books. sylus is curled up in his kitty form on the windowsill, his silver fur catching the sunlight.

you found him a few weeks ago, wandering near the park on your way home from class. at first, you thought he was just a stray, but as you got closer, he meowed softly and walked right up to you, rubbing against your leg. his red eyes sparkled with curiosity, and something about him tugged at your heartstrings. you couldn’t resist picking him up and bringing him home, where he quickly made himself comfortable.

he usually stays calm and quiet when other people come over, but the moment your friend steps inside, you see his red eyes narrow. as you chat, he jumps down from the windowsill and pads over to you, his tiny paws barely making a sound on the wooden floor.

without warning, he hops onto the couch and nudges his way onto your lap. it’s not unusual for him to sit there, but he’s never done it so suddenly before. you smile and stroke his soft fur, feeling him purr loudly. your friend laughs, thinking it’s adorable, but you catch the way sylus’s fluffy tail flicks back and forth, almost like he’s annoyed. you shrug it off, figuring he just wants attention.

but then it happens again.

the next time your friend comes over, you’re both sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea. you don’t notice sylus at first, but then you feel something warm and soft pressing against your legs. you look down to see him, still in his kitty form, rubbing insistently against your knees. his red eyes glance up at you, and he lets out a tiny, impatient meow.

you start to wonder when it becomes a pattern. every time someone visits, sylus is there—watching, hovering, and always making sure he’s as close to you as possible. sometimes, when you mention other guys, you notice how his fur bristles just a tiny bit, his ears flattening for a second before he quickly looks away, pretending to be interested in something else. you think it’s cute, even if you don’t quite understand why he does it.

“you’re so needy today, huh?” you tease, bending down to pick him up.

he settles in your arms, purring loudly, but you can feel his little body tense when your friend laughs again. his ears twitch, and you notice how he refuses to look at your friend, focusing only on you as if no one else is in the room. you laugh it off, scratching behind his ears, and he presses his face into your hand, almost like he’s trying to hide.

one afternoon, you’re sitting on the couch with a friend, talking about an old classmate who used to have a crush on you. sylus is in his kitty form, resting on the other side of the couch, seemingly relaxed. but when you mention how that classmate had given you a gift, you see him go still, his eyes narrowing slightly. he gets up, stretches lazily, and then walks right over to you, nudging your arm with his soft head.

“what’s up, sylus?” you ask, a little amused as you pet him. instead of purring, he climbs onto your lap and curls up there, almost squashing himself against your chest. you laugh, scratching behind his ears. “jealous, huh?” you say, half-joking.

he doesn’t respond, but his purring starts again—loud and deep, vibrating against your chest. you feel the warmth of his tiny body, and you can’t help but think he’s being a little possessive.

your friend leaves soon after, and when you’re alone, sylus shifts into his human form, sitting beside you on the couch. his silver hair falls into his eyes, and there’s a hint of a pout on his face.

“you’re always sitting on my lap when i talk to other people,” you tease lightly, nudging him with your elbow. he looks away, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, his voice soft and almost sulky. you laugh and reach out to ruffle his hair, but he catches your hand, holding it gently.

“you do care, don’t you?” you ask, your voice quieter now. his red eyes flicker to yours, and for a moment, he looks so vulnerable, like he wants to say something but isn’t sure how.

he lets go of your hand and shifts back into his kitty form, curling up against your side. you sigh, leaning back and stroking his soft fur, feeling his purrs echo through the room. you don’t press him for answers, content to just have him close.

the next time your friend comes over, sylus is already on your lap, his fluffy tail wrapping possessively around your wrist. your friend laughs, calling him “your shadow”, and you smile, but you can’t ignore the way sylus’s eyes follow your friend’s every move. after your friend leaves, you look down at him, his small body warm and soft against you.

“you really don’t like it when i talk about other people, do you?” you say softly, scratching under his chin. his red eyes close slowly, and he nuzzles closer, pressing his face into your arm as if trying to tell you without words.

you chuckle and lean down to kiss the top of his head. “it’s okay,” you whisper. “i’m not going anywhere.”

he purrs louder, his body relaxing against you, and you realize that maybe, just maybe, you don’t mind his possessiveness at all.

[i-love-ptv]

Linger ୨ ꩜ ୧

Soft!Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Fem![Implied]Black!Girlfriend!Reader

Based on the prompt: “Hey…Someone messaged you.” “Oh, who’s it from? My password is (…)”

wc: 993

sugary sweet fluff, but also angst cause we’re talking abt Rafe’s past mostly.

black reader is specified because her being Tiana for Halloween is mentioned! :] (ignore it if you like, I just think it’s cute!

An: Made this to get y’all into the fall spirit ;) Guys I fear Rafe is rlly my #1

Another random prompt from Pinterest cause it’s funnnn

Please please PLEASE send fall/halloween reqs! Check my masterlist if you wanna see the characters I write for!

Feedback is always appreciated cuties xx

He’s watching you from a few feet away, his arms are crossed over her chest, and his elbows are resting on the counter he’s leaning on.

Actually, he’s slouching, his lanky legs are stretched out in your pathway, making you have to step over them whenever you have to move.

The sweet scent of pumpkin and cinnamon from your pumpkin muffins fills the air, it reminds Rafe of what fall used to be like, when his mother was still around.

Most people link pumpkins to fall, simply because of their abundance during the cooler months; and Rafe does too, in a way.

When he was younger, he remembers how his mom would take his little sisters, his father, and him to the pumpkin patch every year.

They would all have their respective wheelbarrows, Rafe would end up putting Wheezie’s tiny pumpkin next to his, since she always laid in her mother’s arms.

His mother would make dozens of pumpkin recipes throughout the months of October and November: pumpkin muffins, she made this pumpkin stew that Rafe enjoyed, pumpkin pie, and the list goes on.

It was like a breath of fresh air for Rafe, his family was all together, and everything was normal.

Oh, how he wishes things were normal now.

At this point in his life, Rafe truly only wants simplicity. And you provided that for him.

Which is why, he can’t help but take account of the similarities that you and his mother share.

You both were extremely kind, sometimes a little too kind; though, this doesn’t mean that the two of you weren’t self-assured and confident.

“Ray?”

Rafe’s eyes widened, he hadn’t noticed that you were talking to him. “Hm?”

“I asked if you wanted to try a little bit of this before I put it in the oven.”

You’re looking at him through your doe eyes, like he hung the stars and the moon, and itmakes the boy’s heart practically melt.

“Don’t health experts advise you to not consume raw batter?” Rafe smirks at you.

You pout at this, swiftly turning back around to put the remaining batter in the last muffin cup.

Rafe chuckles and quickly grabs your waist from behind, his head leaning down to your shoulder while he leaves kisses to your cheek.

“No, no! I’ll try it baby, I was just joking with you!”

You giggle at the feeling of his pillow-soft kisses, and you bring your whisk to his lips.

His tongue peaks out slightly, and when he tastes the batter, he hums in delight.

“I switched things up a bit this time, do you think it’s good?” You ask softly.

“It’s the best.” Rafe murmurs, not wanting to speak loudly over your newly made playlist, which is now flowing through your speaker.

He was such a fool for you.

“Okay, okay, now scooch, I need these done so Wheezie and her friends can take them before they go trick-or-treating.”

“Yes ma’am.

As you’re putting your muffins in the oven, you hear a ‘ding’ resonate from behind you.

Rafe looks next to him, seeing your phone light up; the picture of you two together, faces squished against one another looking back at him.

“Hey…Someone messaged you.”

You respond without looking, focused on your task in front of you. “Oh, who’s it from? My password is your birth month and day.”

Rafe feels like his heart is about to pound out of his chest.

He feels as though he shouldn’t be trusted with this. In fact, Rafe doesn’t even know how to feel as of right now.

He’s been with girls before, ones that would leave their phones face down against any and every surface it rested upon.

He remembers having an argument with an ex years ago, simply because he took a glance at her phone when she got a text.

“Stop being so fucking insecure,” is what she had said to him.

It’s so different, hearing you say what you did.

He’s so used to everything being so toxic, borderline hateful.

But you, you make him feel so different. He can’t seem to put his finger on it at the moment, especially while you’re looking over your shoulder at him so sweetly.”

“Rafe? What does it say honey?” You ask expectantly.

He then fumbles when picking up your phone, your cute phone charm that he bought clacking against your phone case.

You were right, your password was March 24th.

His birthday.

He looks at your notification center and sees a text from his sister Sarah.

Sar-Bear 🫀🎀🌍

‘Does this make me look slutty?

Topper says it does, and idk 😕’ (5:28pm)

[1 Attachment]

Your teeth catch you lip before you respond, “awee, that’s so fucking mean. Tell her I said she looks great, and she’s gonna be the best Lottie.”

That’s right, Rafe remembers you and Sarah decided to have matching costumes this year.

You’re going as Tiana, and she’s going as Lottie from The Princess and The Frog.

You came home that day, nearly bouncing in your spot as you told him the plan you came up with for Halloween.

You had begged Rafe to be a frog, you even found a frog onesie on amazon! But, Rafe insisted on just letting you and Sarah match.

Rafe has already decided that next year, he’ll match with you, cause you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

—He just hopes you won't have him wear anything silly.

Rafe sends the text and sets your phone down. He feels giddy inside.

He knows it’s something small, something that most don’t look twice at.

But Rafe feels like a child on Christmas morning.

He feels your arms wrap around his front, and you snuggle your face in his chest; but not before leaving a kiss onto his heart.

Rafe finally realizes what this is for him: this is real.

And this is a breath of fresh air.

—-

Do you have to let it linger?

[vague-humanoid]

https://www.washingtonpost.com/history/2023/05/10/mlk-malcolm-x-playboy-alex-haley/

Jonathan Eig was deep in the Duke University archives researching his new biography of Martin Luther King Jr. when he made an alarming discovery: King’s harshest and most famous criticism of Malcolm X, in which he accused his fellow civil rights leader of “fiery, demagogic oratory,” appears to have been fabricated.

“I think its historic reverberations are huge,” Eig told The Washington Post. “We’ve been teaching people for decades, for generations, that King had this harsh criticism of Malcolm X, and it’s just not true.”

The quote came from a January 1965 Playboy interview with author Alex Haley, a then-43-year-old Black journalist, and was the longest published interview King ever did. Because of the severity of King’s criticism, it has been repeated countless times, cast as a dividing line between King and Malcolm X. The new revelation “shows that King was much more open-minded about Malcolm than we’ve tended to portray him,” Eig said.

Haley’s legacy has been tarnished by accusations of plagiarism and historical inaccuracy in his most famous book, “Roots,” but this latest finding could open up more of his work to criticism, especially “The Autobiography of Malcolm X: As Told to Alex Haley” — released nine months after Malcolm X’s assassination in 1965.

Malcolm X, a member of the Nation of Islam, had frequently attacked King and his commitment to nonviolence, going so far as to call King a “modern Uncle Tom.” But his criticism often had “strategic purposes,” Eig said.

In acting as “a foil” to King, his message had more value to the media. “King saw value in being a foil to Malcolm sometimes, too. But I think at their core they had a lot in common. They certainly shared a lot of the same goals,” Eig said.

Eig, who previously wrote acclaimed biographies of Muhammad Ali and Lou Gehrig, said he found the fabrication in the course of his standard book research for “King: A Life,” due out May 16. When a subject has given a long interview, he’ll look through the archives of the journalist who conducted it, hoping to find notes or tapes with previously unpublished anecdotes.

He did not find a recording of Haley’s interview with King in the Haley archives at Duke, but he did find what appears to be an unedited transcript of the full interview, likely typed by a secretary straight from a recording, Eig said. Eig provided The Post with a copy of the transcript.

On page 60 of the 84-pagedocument, Haley asks, “Dr. King, would you care to comment upon the articulate former Black Muslim, Malcolm X?”

King responds: “I have met Malcolm X, but circumstances didn’t enable me to talk with him for more than a minute. I totally disagree with many of his political and philosophical views, as I understand them. He is very articulate, as you say. I don’t want to seem to sound as if I feel so self-righteous, or absolutist, that I think I have the only truth, the only way. Maybe he does have some of the answer. But I know that I have so often felt that I wished that he would talk less of violence, because I don’t think that violence can solve our problem. And in his litany of expressing the despair of the Negro, without offering a positive, creative approach, I think that he falls into a rut sometimes.”

That is not how King’s response appeared in the published interview. While the top part is nearly identical with the transcript, it ended in Playboy like this: “And in his litany of articulating the despair of the Negro without offering any positive, creative alternative,I feel that Malcolm has done himself and our people a great disservice. Fiery, demagogic oratory in the black ghettos, urging Negroes to arm themselves and prepare to engage in violence, as he has done, can reap nothing but grief.”

Some of the phrases added to King’s answer appear to be taken significantly out of context, while others appear to be fabricated:

@meanmisscharles @russianspacegeckosexparty @ubernegro @that-biracial-geek-girl @redstarovermoundcity

Eig has shared this discovery with a number of King scholars, and the changes “jumped out” to them as “a real fraud,” Eig said. “They’re like, ‘Oh my God, I’ve been teaching that to my students for years,’ and now they have to rethink it,” Eig said.

[jarofstyles]

Leather & Lace 3

Hi loves! This is the last official part of leather and lace but I’m open to doing some one shots and blurbs for them if you want (send requests for what you’d want to see)

Leather & Lace Masterlist

Check out our Patreon for early access to pieces and 170+ exclusive writings

WC- 6.3k

Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, soft dom H, slight degradation, praise kink, impact play, light choking, etc all the good stuff.

Y/N padded out of his bedroom with his shirt hanging down on her form. Standing in his kitchen, he placed the glass down with a clink, watching her as she came closer. Glasses on her nose, makeup freshly off, hair tossed on top of her head, and something in her hand. “There she is.” He smiled, leaning against the corner of his countertops. “Took a minute didn’t you? Cinnamon rolls are almost done”. The stock he kept in his fridge for her favorite treat was put to use tonight. 

“Amazing.” She beamed, coming up to him. “Sit on the stool, please. I brought a makeup wipe so I can get your eyeliner off, cause I know you’re gonna whine that you’re tired later and then you’ll whine when you get a stye.” Y/N had been through this before a million times. 

“Always thinking ahead, aren’t you Butterfly?” He laughed, tapping her nose with his fingertip and not bothering to argue. It was true. He would definitely do that, and it wouldn’t be the first or last time he did. “Alright. Be gentle with me please, m’delicate”. 

Closing his eyes, he felt her warm fingers angle his face where she wanted before the cool wipe made contact with his skin. 

“So delicate with your bruised and split knuckles, hm? What did the poor punching bag do to you this week? Does he owe you money?” One of his favorite things about Y/N since day one had been her banter. They could go back and forth and she was quick to respond. It was playful, always, but she did tend to get more out of him when she approached it this way. She was asking why he’d been upset this week and been hitting the bag so aggressively and without gloves. 

Considering they had just made it official 2 hours ago, she was the best girlfriend ever. She wouldn’t push if he didn’t want to say it and he knew the girl would just nod and move on if he said he didn’t want to talk about it, but he found himself wanting to spill every single thought that crossed his mind to her. Y/N just didn’t have a clue. 

“Mm. My father called me.” He said softly into the cinnamon scented air. The sweetness made the bitter notes of his words a bit easier to tolerate. “Just same old shit, y’know? Nothing I do is gonna be good enough. Even though I’m successful in my own right, he’s always got to add those digs in.” The tumultuous relationship between Harry and his father had always been a sore spot. They weren’t enemies and he didn’t hate him, no, but their relationship had been rocky since Harry had gone to uni and not followed in his footsteps. He tried to be supportive in his own way but it was obvious that he disapproved.

Even though he was a grown man and he had plenty of other people proud of him, it always stung. “Sucks sometimes, that I want his approval. It’s the tiniest bit in me, a speck, but I can always feel it when I talk to him. It’s been a few years since the whole blowout and it’s gotten better but I just have to get over it, I guess. I don’t think he ever will.” Even though his sister had done what he wanted Harry to do, it wasn’t the same in his eyes. 

“I can only imagine.” There was a delicate pause as she got underneath his waterline. “But it’s okay to be upset about it, you know?” She always tried to tread lightly while also being truthful. It was a sensitive subject and the girl knew it. “He’s your dad. It’s going to bother you because we’re literally wired to want our parents' acceptance. It’s human nature.” Gentle swiping over his eyes got the pencil liner off, but she was thorough with it. Besides, she had a feeling he’d prefer his eyes closed for this sort of talk.  “I’m sorry that it’s like that for you, H. I know my words won’t replace his but I’m extremely proud of you and all you’ve done. Hopefully he’ll come around and see all that the rest of us do but… if he doesn’t? That’s a him problem.” 

Harry didn’t know how she managed to always say the right things. The knot in his throat shrunk from the comfort she gave him, her tender handling of both his physical being and his heart. This was the reason he wanted more with her. Almost anyone could get him to nut off, but not a single other person made his heart feel like this. Just as she’d said earlier, he felt completely safe with her in a way he didn’t even know he needed. Before her, he hadn’t realized how uncomfortable he was around people, but she showed him a brand new point of view. 

In the past, he’d opened himself up slightly to one girl. One girl who had used him and fucked his best mate, who he caught in the act. It had walled up the rest of his emotions in iron, not wanting even a crack to get into him because why would he? He’d never thought she or he would do that to him, never had any suspicion until about a month before when he saw glances across the room- but it turned out it wasn’t just his birthday outing they’d been planning. 

Then this girl had come along with her warmth and rusted the iron, getting it worn and cracked until there was a Y/N shaped hole for her to fill. She was understanding of his somewhat snarky nature, never took it personally and had stuck by him even when he’d tried to push her away. 

There had only been one time when he had been somewhat successful and it made his stomach twist and chest ache when he thought about it. It was far earlier on In their friendship, a few weeks in actually. She’d caught him on a bad day, coming up to him outside with her chatterbox open and running asking if he wanted to go to the cafe with him and that she had a surprise- and he’d snapped at her. He’d been rougher with his words than he meant to, honest, but he wanted to be alone and said as much in a not as nice manner. He’d watched her shoulders drop and the sparkle quite literally leave her eye as she looked towards the ground with a nod as even then when he least deserved it, she tried to be understanding.

 Something in him cracked when he heard the slight quiver in her voice when she apologized for being annoying and he’d looked up to see tears in those eyes and… fuck. His stomach dropped to his feet, watching her bottom lip quiver as she reached into her bag and grabbed the candy bar she’d grabbed from the vending machine after her class had ended, handing it to him before she scurried off. It was clear she hadn’t been tearing up for attention from how quickly she had left him, and with a candy bar in hand he felt completely nauseous over how he’d treated her. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling even as he gathered his things and called out for her, throat thick as his bad day got worse only by his own accord. Her lack of presence was felt, coldness settling in his bones when he realized what he’d truly done. It was then that he vowed to never treat her like that again. Y/N had been the sweetest thing in the world to him, got him his fucking favorite candy and was excited to study with him and he’d gone and fucked it all up. Made her fucking cry. She’d been long gone by the time he stumbled back into the pathway but he was already trying to make it right.

In the end he had showed up at her door with a teddy bear in hand along with her favorite candy and some take away, feeling like a kicked puppy as she opened her door and he had seen her swollen eyes and lips. It had been the most heartbreaking thing he ever saw and he apologize profusely when she let him in even when he didn’t deserve it, hugging her on his own accord for the first time and running fingers through her hair as she insisted she forgave him. ‘Everyone has those days and I’m sensitive, I know.’ Is what she said. 

Some days even still he thought about that as he watched people take advantage of her and it made him even more motivated to take care of her. 

In these sort of moments it felt hard not to think about loving her. Even in his rough and tumble sort of persona, she treated him tenderly. Held his arm, brushed his hair back, fixed his tangled necklaces, Y/N had treated him with a delicacy that he didn’t know he needed. 

As soon as the makeup wipe was pulled away, he opened his eyes and cupped her cheek to pull her in for a kiss. It had already been hard to keep his lips to himself, but this situation… it was his new obsession. “You know you’re perfect, right?” He asked against his current addiction, pressing another kiss to them. “Just… I dunno how you always know how to say the right shit. It scares me sometimes, y’know? Sometimes it feels too good to be true, that you… that you’re some sorta dream, but you’re not. And now you’ve told me you’re mine, and M’really fucking nervous about fucking it up but I’m going to do everything I can to be the best for you. Alright?” 

The emotion had slipped off his tongue without his permission but for one of the first times in his life he didn’t regret it. Her lips curled against his in that breathtaking smile he adored, tossing the wipe to the side as she wrapped an arm around his neck. “Harry… I don’t expect perfection. I know relationships… they take time to build. You aren’t some sort of build-a-boyfriend to me. I like you because you’re you. I like the grumpy, sarcastic, scowly bits of you. I always have. You’ll fuck up, I’ll fuck up, it’ll be a whole thing and then guess what?” Pulling back, she took in his face with her soft gaze. “We’ll fix it up again and it’ll be stronger. As long as you don’t cheat on me? I’m yours. And we both know you really aren’t capable of that.”

Harry would rather saw his hand off than cheat. He’d seen what it had done to him, so putting anyone else through that would be disgusting on top of hating the concept to begin with. He’d cut off people he knew for cheating on their partners and wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. “M’glad you know.” He sighed. In a weird way, this talk was making him aroused. Hearing how she liked him, that she knew they’d work, it just… it did something to him. “You look perfect in my clothes.” That too. Yeah, that had something to do with the thickening happening in his pants.

“I like wearing them. I always have. I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a while, you know.” She teased, leaning into his body and letting her tits press up against him as she kissed his jaw lightly. “It always made me feel like yours when you let me wear them.” 

“You’ve been mine.” The dark grumble of his voice was a telltale sign that the words had pleased him. “Regardless of title, you’ve been mine for a while.” It was true and the both of them knew it. Harry’s eyes had been blind to anything but her for a long time and it had been painfully obvious when he hadn’t been able to get it up for other people not too long after meeting her.  Or had to think about her in order to nut off. 

“I know.” The confirmation was warm as she felt his hand travel down to rest above her ass. “And I was hoping you’d been mine for a bit but I’m pretty sure I was. You like to talk when you’re getting head, huh?” The smile was teasing and maybe he should be flushed at that but it was just another layer of arousal for him to remember her on her knees with his cock tucked between puffy lips and drool down her pretty chin. 

“No, actually. Jus’ with you.” He said truthfully. “I was… more of a hit it and quit it with the other people if m’honest. Know I babbled a bit but it felt really fucking good.” They could both feel he was hard now and the awkwardness of the last encounter on his end was gone. “Never expected you to be filthy, though. Thought you’d be a bit more shy but… I like that you were gagging for it just as much as I was.” Over the fabric of his shirt he gripped her ass, a nice handful as he squeezed and watched her eyes flutter shut at the feeling. “I can’t wait to get my hands on you properly. I’ve been dying to taste you,’to feel you. But I need t’know what you like.” 

“A bit of leather and lace.” Was the answer. Long lashed eyes peered up at him as she tipped her head back to look at him. “Sweet and spice. Nice and mean. Be sweet to me and call me a slut again. Spank me and kiss it better. That’s what… it’s what I’ve always imagined with you.” Her words were slightly more hesitant now but she didn’t back down. “You can be a little rough with me as long as you baby me later. I’ve never been…” she paused for a moment as she bit her lip. “I’ve never been fucked right. People treat me like I’m some delicate little toy which, I can be and I like sometimes but… I’ve always known you’d be able to give me the deep one I want. The type to make me lose my breath. Right?” Her fingers curled around his wrist that still rested on her cheek and trailed it down to have his hand rest against her throat. “You can throw me around a bit and make me take it. I can still be a doll for you, but maybe one you use a little bit.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Harry’s mouth was torn between being dryer than the desert and watering down his chin at her descriptors of what she wanted. His hands held her ass and her throat and she was handing herself over on a silver platter as his cock twitched in between them, eager to get to work on her. “Fuck me…” he whispered hoarsely, thumbing over the side of her neck before giving a tiny squeeze. Just a bit, watching her face as he did so. She melted almost immediately and it was then he got the confirmation that she'd been hand crafted for him. Eyes glazed over and a weak, precious whine escaping her mouth and vibrating against the hand covering her throat, he couldn’t hold himself back from kissing her hard. Gathering her as close as possible with his hand keeping its grip for half the kiss before releasing it and using it as a guide to keep her close. “You’re going to ruin me, and M’gonna love every fucking second of it.” 

��-

It had happened quite quickly. The buzz of the oven interrupted them, the only reason Harry even slightly entertained it was so he didn’t burn the place down. He had been quick to toss them on the counter and lost the oven not before picking her up and bringing her into his bedroom. 

“If I died right now, I’d be okay.” He whispered as he looked at her bare cunt. The panties had been discarded and his lips kissed her inner thighs, nosing over the sensitive skin and watching her react to him. “You’re so gorgeous. Smell so fucking good, Butterfly. Gonna have t’tear me away from this pussy.” It was not a joke. 

Kissing over the mound, he spread her open and gave a long lick over the expanse of her slight and yeah- yeah. He was addicted. Licking deeper into her, he felt himself melt into a frenzied version of himself as he let his tongue explore her. Fingers buried in his hair as she gripped him, stomach jumping as she panted at the feeling of his mouth on her. 

Harry had enjoyed giving head before, was no stranger to eating pussy, but this was different. There had never been this all encompassing need to make her cum over and over again on his tongue, that greed that settled in his gut as he heard her moan his name and spread her legs further for him. Welcoming him and his touch. 

He didn’t hold back. Y/N had told him what she wanted and he knew her well enough now to understand. 

“Sweet.” He mumbled against her. “So fuckin’ sweet. Course you are, Butterfly. Fuckin’ perfect, every inch.” Kissing her clit he felt her jump, chuckling as he did it again before licking over the sensitive pearl. “M’gonna make you cum on my tongue, and then M’gonna give you the fuck you needed. I’ll be so nice to you, baby. So sweet, get you nice and fucked out the way you need. Promise.” 

Harry was going to fulfill that promise. Wrapping his lips around her clit, he gave soft, pulsing suckles as he slipped a finger inside of her and felt her hips buck off the bed. 

It was only a introduction, a sneak peek of what he’d feel around his cock but he had to remind himself not to blow too early as he felt her clenched around his digit. Tight and hot and silky against his hand, he groaned against her cunt and nuzzled deeper into it as he settled in. 

“H-Harry… oh my god.” She sighed out, slowly grinding against his face. “Oh my god, you… you’re so good at this. I’ve never….” Never came from this, which was something that pissed him off when he put the pieces together but he knew he’d wear the title of the first one to be successful proudly. Ideally, no one else would ever have it again. He had no plans on giving this obsession up. 

He hummed against her, meeting her eyes as she looked down at him with her messy hair and her bitten lips, mouth opened in the cutest little ‘o’ shape and her brows furrowed. Her clit was throbbing against his tongue and he couldn’t get enough, sucking a bit harder as he added a second finger inside of her. 

“Oh fuck, oh- just like that. Your fingers are big.” She whimpered, making him chuckle against her. Of course they were compared to her own. He had imagined that exact thing in this bed, imagining her in her own room with her fingers stuffed inside her drippy cunt and his name peeling off hers lips as she made herself orgasm. 

Making himself pull back, he fucked his fingers into her and enjoyed every bit of the noise it made. He’d made her wet like this, he’d gotten her to be a sopping mess and he enjoyed every single second of feeling it on his fingertips. “I know, baby. But my cock is much bigger and I need to get you prepped for it. You’re plenty wet…” he purred, leaning over her and keeping her eyes as he pursed his lips and spit right over her clit. “Just need to make you cum and you’ll be nice n’ready for me.” 

There wasn’t a hint of hesitation as he went back in, spreading his spit with his tongue before returning to his motions. He could feel it in her actions, how she clenched around his fingers, pulling her clit into his mouth over and over again as she got more and more wet around his fingers with difficulty not bucking into him. 

“I want it, I need it. I’ve been thinking a-about it for so long. I need you to fuck me, H.” Her voice was different than he’d ever heard it. More whiny, a tinge of desperation to the sweet sound he was obsessed with, and every bit of hot as he knew it would be. 

“I will, baby. Promise. Jus’ let go for me. I can feel you’re close.” He coaxed, curling his fingers just so and watching as her head fell back against the duvet as his lips continued the pull of her clit. 

It was hotter than he could’ve imagined. When she came a few minutes later, he watched her hand grip his hair and the other her own breast as she let out the prettiest noises and whines of his name as she trembled, hips bucking again into his mouth as she tumbled over the edge.

He held her steady with a happy noise, pulling off her clit with one last soft suckle and a kiss but kept his fingers inside of her as he moved back up her body to kiss her mouth. She welcomed it, both hands grabbing his face and not minding the mess she made on his chin and nose from his healthy exploration of her. Mumbled of praised were echoed between their kisses, slow pumps of his fingers working her through the orgasm as she rocked her hips into his hand. 

“Harry, I need it.” Her eyes met his. “I’m clean, I just- I need it, I need you inside me now.” Her neediness wasn’t something he’d been privy to before and it was more than satisfying, but he had to admit that what made him feel even better was knowing she wanted to go bare. He’d

Gotten tested just a few weeks ago at his appointment which was a bit of serendipity, he supposed, because now he was going to get what he had been stroking off to the most. 

“Yeah? Y’sure?” He whispered, watching her nod as he slowly pulled his fingers from her cunt and quickly cupped over it, soothing her. “You’re a dream. Y’know that, baby?” A laugh of disbelief echoed from his chest as he slowly pulled his hand back and slipped his pants off. His shirt had been tossed in the midst of things and he wanted hers off too, even if the idea of fucking her in his tee shirt was appealing. Later. 

She was receptive to it, letting him tug it off and exposing her to him again. 

He had to take a moment to simply enjoy her. 

Harry had always appreciated how beautiful she was but he also had to take a second to be thankful that she let him see her at her most vulnerable. That he got to see her in the most delicate state, one he was going to be the only one to see. Spread thighs and bare tits and soft tummy, all his. His, his, his. 

“M’so happy you’re mine.” He whispered, running a hand over her stomach as his other fisted his cock. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Not jus’ your body but your whole being. And I hope you know how much it means t’me that you’re letting me be yours too.” It hit him then, watching her peer up at him. He was being entrusted with a damn near golden heart and there were no plans on doing anything but cherishing it. 

“H…” she whispered, motioning him to come to her. He did, as he always will, buttoning their lips together as he nudged his tip through her wet slit and felt her sigh, wrapping her legs around his hips. “You are perfect. I adore you and- and I’m happy you’re letting me be yours too. You make me feel so good in all the ways possible and I just want to be as close as I can get.” 

There was no room left for debate. 

He began to push into her, watching her face as he filled her. It was slow at first, letting himself pace themselves considering he knew very early on that this would have to be a multiple round night because there was no way he’d be satisfied with just one. Y/N had been the object of his affections for a long while now and finally getting to be with her in the way he’d craved had lit him up. 

“There we are…” he whispered as he was fully inside of her. “You feel so good on me, Butterfly.” A kiss pressed to her lips, slow rocking into her for the beginning of this. The man fully intended to give her what she wanted but the first few moments would be tender and soft, show a true appreciation of her. The soft yellow light of his lamp next to his bed lit up the side of her face, shadows across the other side. Her hand held his bicep and the other on the back of his neck as she let out a shuddering breath, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed kisses all over her face.

It was a high, feeling her heat on him. She was everywhere, capturing every bit of him yet again. Tugging him deeper into a trap he had no plans on escaping from. The slow rocking of their hips garnered a hitch in her breath, still sensitive from her orgasm moments ago but taking in every moment she could. Every second felt special and precious. 

“You don’t even know….” He breathed. “Don’t even know how much I think about this. Made me feel like a perv for a bit, seeing you in my shirt last week… then you crawled into my lap and you ruined me.” It was hard to keep it from spilling out.  “I couldn’t run anymore from how you m-make me feel. And then y’put your mouth on me, near begged to, made me feel fucking crazy. I’ve been waiting all week to get my hands on you again… but this is the best day.” The fact that she was officially his and she was holding on to him, letting out a sweet sigh as he began to pull out the slightest bit and pushed back in. 

“I thought about it too.” She admitted, though it felt hard to talk. “I wanted this and-and I wanted you and m’so happy right now.” Her eyes watered a bit and fuck, fuck, fuck.  He cooed, shaking his head as he kissed her again. His sweet girl, crying because she had wanted him just as much as he had wanted her. 

“M’yours, Butterfly. All yours, and… M’not gonna let you go. Promise. You can have me as many times, as many days, as you want.” The man doubted that she’d ever truly understand how much this meant to him, how much she meant to him. That she’d look past his shitty attitude and stuck by him long enough to see the real parts, the softer ones. Hell, she made him want a relationship when he had never thought he’d want one again.

Harry was unequivocally hers, body and heart.

It stayed slow for a while, deep kisses and soft moans, but he could feel her start to get restless. He was very aware of part of his appeal to her- the rough and tumble. So when he felt her start to squirm, he took her throat again and held her back down, keeping his slow pumps as he watched her eyes hood and a soft mewl fall from her lips as she clenched around his cock. “Impatient girl. You’re tryin’ to rush me, hm?” He whispered, squeezing the sides of her throat momentarily. “I told you I’d fuck you right. But I wanted to appreciate you, make you feel how much I adore you. Is that not enough for my girl?” 

Y/N shook her head, panting as her legs tightened around his waist. “M’sorry.  I’m not trying to rush you, promise. I just feel so good n’I want more.” 

“Of course she does. Pretty little doll wants some more.” He crooned, clicking his tongue. “Being stuffed to the brim and stretching that tiny cunt isn’t enough for you. You told me about this, warned me. Told me you liked a bit of both.” Pulling out a bit more, he slid back in with a bit of force that caught her breath. “So you’re tired of being my sweet girl… you want to be a whore?”

There was something about the delicacy in the way he said it, the way it was silky and smooth and so unlike how the word would usually be delivered that had her moaning out loud. He was so, so nice to her and she loved it but it was clear she needed some more. Thankfully she had come to the right place. 

“Okay, okay. You want t’be a cute little slut. I see how it is, my darling.” He grinned, containing the slightly rougher pace. “Jus’ let me look at this gorgeous face a bit longer, and then I’ll flip you on your hands and knees so you can bury your face into the bed while I make you cum.” 

Harry had a hard time controlling himself knowing that she wanted to be roughed up. His angelic Y/N, wanted to be pounded out into the mattress. The original thought was that he’d have to work her up to that and see if she liked it, maybe a spank or two, but here she was. Gushing on her cock from the mere mention of being fucked harder. 

“Do you want me to spank that pretty ass?” He questioned, listening to the squelch of her cunt with each pass inside of her. His personal heaven. “Make it hot? How much do you want, Butterfly?” 

“I want anything.” She promised. “Please spank me and- and choke. I want to feel it tomorrow.” It was apparent now that she really did crave it, bucking into his thrusts and getting wetter the harder he got. He was going to have such a good time learning her body. How it ticked, what got her off, what made her squirm. It was a whole new facet to their relationship that he was giddy to explore. 

“I’ll give you anything you want, my gorgeous girl.” He promised. “Make the prettiest fuck doll out of you.” 

Harry kept his promise. 

Y/N squealed as he pulled out, flipping her over and hissed at his hands spreading each side of her ass open. “Look at you… you piece of art.” He sighed. “M’gonna mark this canvas up. Never imagined bruising you before but… what my girl wants, she gets.”

The first spank was a quick one, making her yelp as he stuffed himself back into her needy hole. It was exposing her, letting him have access to her cunt and ass and it was obviously exhilarating from how she clenched before pushing back into him for more. “You liked it.” The man smirked, squeezing the soft flesh in his hands. “We’re going to get on perfectly in the bedroom, aren’t we Butterfly?” 

From there, Harry let loose. Keeping a hand on her hip and the other holding her ass, giving swats to the skin as he fucked into her deep and thorough. He watched in awe as her ass rippled every time it met his thighs, the sound of skin slapping and her whimpers filling his bedroom. Her cunt was hot and so fucking wet he was surprised he hadn’t slipped out yet, creamy and soft but keeping him in tight. 

He’s heard Y/N babble before, but all she could come up with was whimpers and whines of his name, more, and again when he smacked the round of her ass. It was unexpected, but he was eating up every single movement, every noise she squeaked out. It felt incredible to know he was the one doing it. He had been the one to make her lose that soft shell and got deep into the underbelly, literally and metaphorically, burying deep inside of her with each tuck. “That’s my girl, taking it so well. I adore you, y’know that?” He cooed. “Love this hot cunt. Think M’gonna stay inside of it for a while, what do you think?” There was no answer but a punched out breath from his cock. “Mmm… I think so too. You did say you wanted t’be my whore.” The tone was slightly condescending but it was evident quickly that she reacted well to that. 

For all the time he’d been thinking about this, reality was much sweeter. With her taste on his tongue and her arousal smeared all over his cock and forming a creamy ring around the base of his cock with each squelching fuck into her needy and willing hole, he couldn’t have imagined something better. Something so unfiltered and raw, going bare inside his candy sweet girl who had overtaken his life. 

What really set her off, though, was his fingers tucking under her and finger her slippery and swollen clit, rubbing over it firmly, she moaned loud and clear, panting into the air as she clumsily grabbed his wrist as if to keep it there. Like he’d pull it away. “I see it baby, I feel it. You jus’ needed that clit played with. You’re gonna cum for me.” He breathed in an amazed chuckle. “Gonna cum all over my cock so I can fill you to the brim and keep you full and warm.” 

Y/N didn’t need much more than that. His cock in her tummy and his fingers at her clit, ass burning slightly from his swats. He felt it the moment it began, the fluttering around his prick and her hitch of breath as she got his name falling from her mouth and the slight tense of her body before she fell apart on him.

The prettiest sight he’d ever seen in his life. It was then that he swore he’d do his best to see it as many times as he possibly could, which would be a blessing or a curse depending on what the girl underneath him thought of overstimulation. 

Which was why even as he growled out, spilling into the perfect cunt that milked him, he kept thrusting. Slow and sloppy now, feeling his load dripping from her and onto the bed, he continued with his fingers on her clit as she squirmed. His cock fucked the cum right into her, massaging it into her walls as he kissed her skin. “‘Nother one. Gimme another one, my baby. Show me how much y’love being my sweet little whore.”

The sensitivity was probably to blame with how fast the second one came, shaking slightly as she let out the weakest whine of his name before pushing his hand away. Even though he could’ve done it over and over, he hummed and listened to her cue, turning them onto their sides and kept himself snug inside of her. He’d clean her up in a bit, bring her to the shower, make sure she was fed her cinnamon rolls, but for a little bit he wanted to bask in the bliss of having a dream come true. 

“S’okay, Butterfly. I’ve got you.” He nudged his nose against her neck, placing another chaste kiss there as she folded their fingers together. “Now you can fly home to me.” 

—-

It was far too late for cinnamon rolls if a normal person had any say, but thankfully they didn’t. Y/N sat on the counter with her hair placed back into that messy updo and his shirt on her torso while he had been convinced to wear his boxers while in the kitchen, dipping the microwave reheated cinnamon rolls in the icing. 

“I’ve got to teach you how to make them from scratch.” His girl sighed, kicking her feet as they dangled off the counter. 

“What, is my store bought hot food enough for you?” He pouted in faux offense, but luckily she didn’t fall for it. 

“You know that’s not the case. I love that you buy me some to have when I’m here.” A sugary kiss was given to his bottom lip, but she pulled away too fast to deepen it. A shame if you asked him. “It’s just, y’know, it would be fun to do together. There’s plenty of time to… hang out while the dough rises, and stuff like that.” 

Harry’s brows shot up at the insinuation, the unexpected laugh barking through the kitchen as he lowers his half ripped cinnamon roll to the plate. “I’ve created a little monster, haven’t I?” The shit eating from on his face showed no sign of regret, though. “One fuck and I’ve corrupted you. Sweet little thing turned into a needy pup in heat.” He paused before pointing a finger smeared with cinnamon sugar on it in her face. “Or have I just uncovered something that was in front of my face this whole time? Innocent act?” 

Y/N answered by leaning forward to take his finger into her mouth, sucking on it slowly and flicking her tongue over the tip before pulling back on it. 

There was no doubt now he’d found his perfect match, even if it was his complete opposite. Maybe they weren’t as different as he thought.