#constant negative attitudes are bringing me down

[liquidluckandstuff]

I am officially going to try and read The Lord of the Rings after only ever watching the movies. I am a little tired of fanfiction and the chronically negative online takes that comes with it.

I want something that is new to me and fresh eyes and 0 experience and the delight of figuring out something new because lets face it I KNOW those movies only showed a fraction of what those books are about.

Honestly, from my experience the LOTR fandom have been the best bunch of nerds i've ever met so far and I want something like that in my life. Deep lore that keeps you up at night kind of stuff.

I mean I'm still going to write and stay with my friends in our own little corner of the world but I think i'm going to start being an official multi-fandom space for all my stuff.

[ewingstan]

So whereas Worm and Pact were basically sprints to the finish with their stories, with very few breaks between events outside of Worm's infamous 2-year timeskip, Twig and Ward both make frequent use of timeskips between arcs. This has its drawbacks and benefits. Putting a timeskip after a major world-shaking development allows the audience to see how the setting has settled into an interesting new status quo, whereas a more temporally continuous story can only really show the immediate reaction to those developments. But wildbow's choice to have those timeskips often occur right after those big developments means we don't get to see those immediate reactions, either from the setting's society or from the characters themselves.

Iota has criticized Twig's tendency to jump forward right after a juicy character beat happened, depriving the audience of the potentially very interesting look at how Sy and the lambs staggered back from various bombshells. We only see them months later on their next mission, visibly affected by what's happened but having moved past much of it. I have mixed feelings about how the timeskips are used in both serials, but I'll say that this problem hurts Ward much a lot more than it hurts Twig. This mostly comes down to what the story focuses on in between timeskips, and how Sy and Victoria narrate their respective teams.

We don't spend a lot of time with the lambs outside of missions, which you'd think would create a problem of never seeing their personal relationships develop. However, Sy famously cannot bring up a character without giving his complete overview of their perceived character, how they can be cracked, and how they compare to his favorite people. This means that we're constantly tracking how Sy's relationship to the Lambs and various other characters is shifting. We see the moments when he goes from comparing Lillian negatively against the other lambs, to comparing doctors negatively against Lillian. If the timeskips mean we miss seeing interesting conversations where characters relationships start to shift, we're never in any danger of missing how those relationships shift.

This also lets us get a good idea of what the time we skipped over looked like. Alongside his constant descriptions of other characters is his descriptions of their attitude towards him. When he does this to the lambs, it often involves a lot of backfilling of what their relationship has looked like in-between arcs. Lots of "I don't know why the others think I've been losing my edge. They've taken to cuddling with me every night for some reason. They say its so I don't cry myself to sleep from losing Jamie, but I think they're being silly an I'm being So Normal about everything." This is sometimes less effective than just showing us those moments, but it at least lets us fill in the gaps.*

Compare this to how Victoria narrates other characters during combat. Like with Sy, we'll get a lot of description of how she feels about enemies and people she's wary of. She tells us exactly what her problems with others are, and what about their psychology can be exploited in a fight or negotiation. But unlike Sy, she doesn't do the same for her teammates—not unless she's worried they're not going to be able to follow the plan.

This isn't a flaw in isolation; it's actually some pretty slick characterization of Victoria and Breakthrough. Whereas the lambs don't differentiate between communicating as a group of friends and communicating as a team—being on a mission never gets in the way of their shit-shooting, friendly teasing, and melodramatic accusations—Victoria noticeably changes how she talks with and about her teammates when on missions. This shows us how she ends up reproducing New Wave's problems, and how leading them as a hero team prevents her from being able to help them as friends. And it makes it all the more interesting when, say, she's actively worrying about Kenzie during missions in the way she's worrying about her in her daily life.

The problem comes from not having enough of the out-of-mission scenes to contrast it against. Because Victoria usually isn't narrating her perception of her teammates during combat, we need to rely on how she sees them and how they're interacting out of combat to see how their relationships have developed. But despite being what Ward is arguably set up for, Ward skips over a ton of opportunities for these interactions in order to get to the next big action piece.

All this leads to a situation where after 17 arcs and thousands upon thousands of words, I couldn't tell you how Victoria feels about Rain. I couldn't tell you how she feels about Tristan or Byron. I could tell you how she feels about Sveta, but I couldn't tell you how their relationship has changed over time. Hell, I know more about how she feels about Damsel than about Swansong, because in combat scenarios she's constantly thinking about whether Damsel can be trusted, while after a certain point Swansong gets trusted to the point that Victoria isn't narrating what she thinks about her.

This just....it seems like such a missed opportunity given Ward's premise. This is a book about a therapy group becoming a peacekeeping force, and the ways that goes wrong. The ways Breakthrough's opinions of each other shift and develop should be the focus. We get a great look at how Victoria feels about her relationship to Kenzie and her worries about having her be part of the team. But shouldn't we have at least some idea of her feelings about how the other members are being affected by the group? Isn't it a problem that her opinion on half the team has barely changed after she first met them?

*this is also why Twig's timeskips become more detrimental in the last third of the book. Sy is with the lambs a lot less, and we can't track how he's changed by looking at how he thinks others are considering him. This was less of a problem in the arcs where Sy and Jessie were living together, and Sy was constantly considering the ways they did and didn't work well as co-conspirators and cohabitators. But bizarrely, he all but stops thinks about how Jessie considers him after they start dating. Further, he's too befuddled by Helen to seriously consider what she thinks about him. I see this as a big reason why the last arcs weren't able to fully express how he'd matured into the state he'd apparently reached by the end.

[pinejayy]

Hantengu Clones x F!Reader who stands up to Sekido

Separate things for the Clones // Reader is tried of his constant anger so she stands up to him.

Trigger Warnings: curse words, sekido slaps you, yelling, you also slapping sekido because he needs it, sekido also throws you like a ragdoll??

Sekido

“YOU GUYS ARE SO FUCKING USELESS, I CAN’T DEAL WITH YOU IDIOTS!” You could hear you boyfriend yelling at the others. Sighing to yourself, you had a headache and his yelling made it worse. As you were in your room you tried ignore his yelling but it was so hard.

Then hearing a loud crash made you snap, growling at yourself. You stood up and went to where the boys were and you saw a very angry boyfriend with the other clones pretty annoyed and upset. Then seeing a broken window, it seemed as Sekido threw something at the window. “What the fuck is going on here?! I have a headache and you’re not helping!”

“This doesn’t involve you stupid Human, now go away...” Sekido said harshly. You walked to him and stand in front of him, placing your hands on your hips.

“Well now it does, what happened.” You say, rubbing your head.

‘LIKE I SAID THIS DOESN’T INVOLVE YOU, NOW LEAVE.” He said more loudly. Usually his yelling would make you cry but not tonight. 

“He’s just angry because we don’t listen to him! He always wants his way and if he doesn’t get his way he starts getting like this..” Karaku said. And this made Sekido mad, his blood was boiling at this point and that’s when he yelled once again. Making you roll your eyes…of course he’s starts throwing a bitch fit if he doesn’t get his way.

“BECAUSE YOU’RE ALL GOOD FOR NOTHING! AND YOU Y/N THIS DOESN’T INVOLVE YOU! ARE YOU STUIPD!”

*SLAP*

The room went silent, you slapped your boyfriend across the face. He looked at you shocked holding his face, did you just slap him? The other clones looked shocked you never stood up and especially towards him. He growled at you.

You turn around and look at the other Clones. “Would you boys give us a minute...now!” 

They couldn’t help but just nod, of he’s definitely gonna kill you. But they just went to the other room, but they still listened though. Waiting for your death.

As you were about to speak up Sekido had pinned you to the nearest wall. You gasped slightly, he was so quick. And he quickly he placed a harsh kiss on your soft lips. You tried to push him off but he was too strong. So you just gave in, kissing him back. 

He pulled away and looked at you. His red eyes were harsh. “You dare slap me? Heh, you have guts that’s for sure.”

“Yes, you deserved it!” You hiss back, he chuckled and gripped your waist and he leaned in. “I like that...” He whispered against your ear, he quickly pinned you down to the floor. “I need to blow off some steam, are you going to help me out? Since you wanted to be apart of this argument.” 

You look at him and roll your eyes. “Bring it..”  And this made him smirk. He leaned and started to kiss you and soon after your clothes came off and so did his. And oof the other clones just heard the whole thing! 

Karaku 

You were patiently waiting for your boyfriend and his brothers so come back, but they seemed to take longer than usually and of course this made you worry for them. You started to think about negative thoughts, as you were sitting in the living room looking at the front door, as you were about to get stand up the door swung open. And you saw a very angry Sekido... “YOU’RE SO STUIPD! WHY IS EVERYTHING A GAME TO YOU?” 

“AND WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS UP MY ASS!” Karaku yelled back to him. Looking up you saw your boyfriend Karaku being yelled by Sekido. The other two just watched, they seemed tried of their yelling. “WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS LIKE THIS? WHAT’S UP YOUR ASS SEKIDO. OH THAT’S RIGHT NOTHING BECAUSE NO ONE WOULD SUPPORT YOUR GRUMPY ASS ATTITUDE.”

And that’s when Karaku and Sekido were face to face, ready to throw hands at each other and that’s when you decide to to step in. Standing in between them you hold your arms up blocking your boyfriend from Sekido. “OKAY OKAY! What happened!” You say looking at Sekido.

“THIS DOESN’T INVOLVE YOU, YOU USED UP WHORE.” 

You raised your eyebrow, looking at him. “Excuse me? What did you call me!” You hiss at him. Now you were in his face, Karaku just stood there he just pull you away but he wanted to see what would happen next. 

“A. USED. UP. WHORE.” He said and before he could speak up again his head turned to the side. *SLAP* 

You had slapped him across the face. And you heard Urogi let out a small chuckle and Aizetsu a small whimper. “Why you little bitch-” Sekido said, raising his hand ready to slap you and that’s when both Urogi and Aizetsu stepped in and held him back. 

Your boyfriend picked you up and carried you off. He took you outside and far away from the house. Soon after he set you down. “Wow I didn’t know you would slap him.” He said laughing slightly. 

You crossed your arms and pouted. “He called me a used up whore and he was yelling at you! What else was I gonna do?” You say.

This just made him laugh and he grabbed you and hugged you. “No one has ever stood up for me like that!” He nuzzled his face into your neck. “You’re amazing! And you’re not a used up whore, you know Sekido he just always has a stick up his ass..” 

This made you laugh slightly, you wrap you arms around him and held him. “You think he’s mad at me.”

“Oh no no, he’s not gonna be mad at you. He’s gonna be pissed off. It’s best to stay out of his way.” He said, stilling holding you. “But I think it’s best to give him his space..But in the meantime.” He began saying, soon after he pinned you to the nearest tree. “We can kill some time.” He said winking. “I’ll make you my used up whore.” He said jokingly.

Aizetsu

As you were laying on your bed, you waited for your sweet boyfriend and his brothers to return from their mission. It’s been hours since you seen them and quite frankly you were getting bored. You wished you had Aiztsu here, as you laid on the bed you slowly began to close your eyes that’s until you heard the door open. Quickly getting up, they’re back! You quickly made it to the living room, and that’s when you saw Sekido yelling at your boyfriend. This made you frown instantly.

“YOU’RE SO FUCKING USELESS, WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS CRYING OVER EVERYTHING HUH!” Sekdio was yelling, he had Aizetsu trapped into a corner. Poor Aizetsu had tears in his eyes. Seeing Sekido treat your boyfriend like this made you blood boil, you started to walk towards him but you were stopped. Karaku grabbed your arm and shook his head. “I don’t think that would be a good idea Doll.” You struggled against his grip.

“Let go of me.” You hiss softly. 

He just shook his head, he gave you a sorry look. So that just left you and the two other brothers looking at the argument. “”SO FUCKING USELESS, YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING DEMON!” Sekido began saying, and he grabbed a hand full of Aizetsu’s hair pulling it. “USELESS USELESS!” He yelled out.

This made your blood boil even more, your face was turning red. You ripped your arm away from Karaku and running in between Sekido and your boyfriend. Pushing Sekido out of the way. Holding your arms up protecting your boyfriend. The poor thing was whimpering mess, tears streaming down his check. 

“What’s your problem! Leave him alone! He isn’t useless!”

“YOU STUIPD HUMAN! YOU DARE GET IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS! WHY I GOTTA-” He began yelling, slapping you hard across the face Your head turning to the side from the impact. Holding your check, looking at him. 

“You hit like a bitch!” You hiss at him. 

Sekido looked at you as he was about to jump you but both Karaku and Urogi were holding him. And Aizetsu grabbed you and carried you bride style and ran off. Running outside, and once you guys were a good distance away he set you down. “Sweetheart! Why would you do that!” He cried out, holding you. He looked at your cheek and saw redness. Making him even more upset. It’s definitely gonna leave you a bruise.

“No please don’t get upset, I couldn’t just watch him treat you like that..I had to do something..” You say looking down. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that..” 

He sighed and hugged you tight. “I appreciate it Y/N, but if I were you it’s best if we avoid Sekido for awhile let him calm down..” 

You just nodded and then started to cry out. “THAT WAS A PAINFUL SLAP!” Holding your face.  Aizetsu got upset and he held you. “I’ll make it up to you sweetheart.” He whimpered out softly. Holding you close. 

Urogi

“WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS PLAYING WITH OUR PREY! THIS ISN’T SOME GAME!” You heard yelling once again Sighing to yourself you walk to where the yelling was and all four demons were there. Sekido of course was yelling at your boyfriend once again. Making you roll your eyes. You just stood there watching. 

“Why does it matter? It’s fun! We got our food. So remove that staff of yours from my ass and fuck oof.” Urogi hissed at him. He began walking away and thats when Sekido grabbed his shoulder and punching him square in the jaw making him fall on his butt. He groaned out holding his jaw. And that’s when you finally stepped in between them looking at the red eyed Demon.

“MOVE AWAY LITTLE GIRL!” He yelled out. But you didn’t move away, you just stood there. “I SAID MOVE! ARE YOU DEAF?”

You snarled at him. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on him! Or else.” And that’s when Sekido began laughing loudly. Urogi was still on the floor holding onto his jaw. “Or what?” He hissed at you, taking a step closer to you.

With that you raised your hand slapping him across the face. This made him upset and before anyone could react he grabbed your shoulder and pushed you to the side quite hard. Falling to the side like a ragdoll. And he was walking towards you, not paying attention to Urogi anymore. “You little bitch.” 

But before he could do anything both Aizetsu and Karaku grabbed him holding him back. And Urogi grabbed you and held you bride style and flew away with you. Taking you to his nest. He placed you down gently. 

“Babey why would you do that? I could have handle it myself.” He said feeling upset. You looked at you and held your hand.

“Because someone needs to stand up for him! And I didn’t appreciate that he was treating you like that!” You say crossing your arms. Pouting.

This made him chuckle slightly. “Ah you’re a feisty one, but you know he’s gonna be pissed off.”

“Yeah so what? Not like he’s always pissed off.” You say.

“Yeah, but more than usual..let’s just give him his space. But for now let me treat you good for standind up for me.” He said winking at you.

[lsunstreakerl]

I truly don’t know where I’m going with this. But chapters 18 and 19 got me thinking about their attitude about winning. Cause in the beginning the mere idea of not constantly winning anymore drives max over the edge, bye he’s come a long way to the point where he realizes that even if he won, there are more important things to leave behind than trophies. Because he’s already won and it really didn’t fix anything. But Charles. Charles is at the beginning of that road, driving himself crazy over winning, and maybe once he retires too years down the lines he’ll realize some things. (Also. Kind of cruel that he told him that he didn’t care if he won or not, cause bbg did we forget what happened that pushed him to retire in the first place) …idk where I’m going with this but it’s called the yapping button 🤣 feel free to ignore this nonsense

the yapping button being used to yap, we love to see it!

max has such major growth over Search History in regards to him winning. I feel the major difference between him and charles in SH is that max never really wants to drive. max wants jos to be proud of him- he and charles have two completely different core motivations. max loves his team, and he does enjoy winning, but losing is so much more than just losing a race for him, which is why his relationship with racing is so toxic.

max doesn't have a drive to win- he has a drive to be loved, and winning is the only way he's achieved that.

charles has the drive for the win because he wants it.

charles is passionate about the racing, it's such a core part of him in a way that's totally different from max. charles has a lot of positive associations with racing and winning, and while he hates to lose it isn't the end of the world for him like it is for max.

that changes a bit over his time at ferrari, because it's all symbolic and monumental now. charles is now under pressure because he has to- no one else can bring back the 16th championship but him, because its symbolic. no one else can be the tifosi's favorite because it's him, he's the predestined, and suddenly he has a lot to live up to. the pressure is overwhelming, and the near fanatic love from the tifosi and ferrari and Italy is constant. he can never get away from it.

so charles is experiencing the pressure of needing to win for a negative reason for the first time, and it's really fucking with him in the championship head to head. fighting for it against lewis hamilton doesn't help in the slightest.

(this all makes the "you wouldn't get it" line kind of hilarious, when you think about it. charles, buddy, he definitely does.)

[sanctobin]

Dutchman Sergio Herman is often known as the "rock'n'roller" of chefs. With outlets springing up across Flanders this perfectionist has by no means had enough.

You don't have to be interested in good food in Belgium and the Netherlands to know Sergio Herman, the 51-year-old is to be encountered there at every turn: As a legendarily gruff mentor in TV cooking shows ("It smells like ten farts in a plastic bag" / "Sex on a plate!"), as a permanent topic for gossip magazines, as the godfather of his own brand of cookware and tableware and, and, and ...

Herman's main field of activity is as the owner of a gourmet empire; his Sergio Herman Group currently comprises six star-rated and fine-dining restaurants in Belgium and the Netherlands, as well as a premium fast food brand, Frites Atelier, and a constant stream of pop-up locations. However, the speed with which Herman opens new venues or withdraws from them – sometimes after disagreements, such as recently with his long-time companion Nick Bril in the Antwerp two-star restaurant, The Jane – makes the term 'pop-up' relative.

He often questions whether or not he can maintain his current pace. Herman says, "I have seen many examples of people around me who have pushed their limits too far. But I don't have a plan B because I've come to terms with the fact that I'm programmed to work all my life". However, at the beginning it looked different…

Fighters In part as a disciplinary measure, his father sent Sergio, a school drop-out, to hotel management school in Bruges. His father knew what he was doing: together with Sergio's mother, he ran their country inn Oud Sluis, which specialised in mussels, and hoped that the hard daily kitchen routine would bring his son to his senses. The calculation worked, so much so, in fact, that after graduation Sergio completed an unpaid internship with Michelin-starred chef Cas Spijkers, discovering high-end cuisine for himself. Soon he was looking for other culinary mentors, but fate intervened; his father fell ill and called the teenager back to the kitchen of the family inn. At first, this meant cleaning mussels and peeling onions, day in, day out. To this day, a love-hate relationship of astonishing proportions comes to light whenever he is asked about mussels.

Even today, Herman calls his father the "strongest voice" among all those from whom he was able to learn something. "It was he who encouraged me to find my own style and he gave me all the support he could. He was a strict teacher though, harsh at times, but I decided not to be discouraged." That, he says, is what he now teaches to the next generation in his restaurants: "It's worth fighting for a strong career." In Herman's case, that meant he was "cemented in the kitchen of the Oud Sluis as a chef for 20 years".

No half measures In the end, Herman was to transform Oud Sluis into the most famous three-star restaurant in the Flemish-Dutch region. But the beginning was anything but promising: regulars refused to embrace fine dining, while new guests shied away from the address which had a reputation for being conservative. Often the restaurant remained empty. Herman did what he does with every setback, "I try to redirect the negative energy of a loss or failure into something that wrings those feelings down." He never lets grief and disappointment distract him from his goals. "That attitude may be hard at times, but as long as that works for me, I will continue to live that way. My willpower is my anchor." His first anchor point was a Michelin star in 1995 for the then 24-year-old chef of Oud Sluis, his second followed in 1999 and the third in 2006.

The success story could have gone on forever if Herman wasn't Herman: In 2013 he simply closed Oud Sluis, which was booked out for months in advance and which had been immortalised in a documentary entitled Sergio Herman – Fucking Perfect. The chef, who had not come out of his kitchen for decades, reinvented himself as a gourmet big businessman at the age of 42. According to Herman, his life up to that point had given him "the status and respect in the culinary world" that he has built on ever since. But at the same time, he realised that he did not wish to continue living in the kitchen, he wanted a life "that I can change in any direction I want to change...".

He now channels the passion with which he used to work behind the cooker into gastronomic projects of all kinds, "but they have to be something special and unique. I live for that excitement". Herman always keeps a firm grip on the strings. During the Covid restrictions on restaurants and hospitality, for example, he tested all his venues and then handed over to-do lists to the respective chefs.

So far, Herman's armada of restaurants has been limited to the Flemish-Dutch region so that he can keep track of everything that bears his name. His Frites Atelier brand is probably the most suited to expansion and even franchising, due to its tight culinary snack corset. The first franchise opened last year in the designer outlet Roosendaal, in the Netherlands. Meanwhile, there are four other branches in The Hague, Antwerp, Ghent and Brussels. Soon, there may also be news about Herman's long-planned move to Singapore.

As crazy as possible Before jumping to a new continent, however, Herman takes another look at his neighbourhood: The Strand Hotel sits high up on a sand dune on the Zeelandic coast looking out over the North Sea. Here in this opulent food and well-being hotel in Cadzand-Bad, you can either dine at his two starred restaurant Pure C or in the much smaller relaxed bar-bistro Blueness, with its fresh seafood strongly influenced by Japan. Just across the border in Belgium, two other projects are under negotiation, about which he does not want to reveal any details for the time being, but according to Herman, should be completed later this year. Admittedly, this is "a lot of work. But I try to live as healthy as possible, which is a challenge in this business. And I try to stay as physically and mentally fit as possible". All in all, he says, he is "in for another crazy year ­– but that's just the way we like it!"

By Falstaff

[aceyugiohdreamer]

I am way beyond fed up of this exhausting trope where a story is trying its damndest to convince me that it's really totally fine and acceptable for a character to be rude, constantly throw insults, and attack others emotionally because they're actually a good person deep down with a heart of gold once you get past the churlish personality.

Fuck you and fuck that.

If someone is going to treat me and everyone else like shit on a regular basis, I don't care if they can muster up the bravery to bear the pain and discomfort of doing one good thing one time. They can die in a ditch and frankly I hope they do, after getting beaten to a pulp with bats.

I have no patience with bad attitudes whatsoever.

I don't care what kind of good morals you're hiding underneath your "prickly exterior," grow the fuck up and stop taking out your own issues on everyone around you.

If someone is going to be a bitch to you first, then fine, be mean back, but when you start off as a level 15 bitch to fucking everyone by default, then you don't deserve to live in a society. Go find a cave to live in where you can't bother anyone else with your toxic negativity.

And this fucking applies to what's-his-name from dead boys ghosts whatever. My guy, I don't give a fuck that you spent 70 years in hell. You're a fucking asshole for no reason and frankly maybe you should still be in hell if you're going to be like that.

I don't buy that you're an asshole as some kind of trauma response or whatever. First of all, you just sound like a whiny bitch-baby every time you bring it up, and second, I don't believe that being an arrogant ass is the result of constant, horrific, repeated torture. I think you just like being pedantic and feeling superior to everyone else and you use hell as a cover for that.

And even if I did believe it was a trauma response, I'd tell you to work on that and find a different coping mechanism. Other people don't deserve your nasty supercilious attitude. I genuinely wish you more pain and misery and I hope you die again soon.

[ch4nb4ng]

Evil Roommate

pairing: leeknow x afab!reader, roommates enemies to lovers

warnings: softdom!lino, cheating (mentioned), making out, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering penetration, cum play (?), praise

requested : yes!

word count 6.2k

summary: the new roommate was a handful. lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and a whole bunch of other negative things. but wow, you were sexually frustrated and he, well, attractive, was an understatement.

“Can you actually like, wash your kitchen utensils when you're done using them?”

The amount of huffing and puffing you have heard from your new roommate in the past two weeks was ridiculous. If you had a dollar for every time he had gone against anything you had politely asked for, you would be rich by now, and definitely stable enough to move out and away from him.

“I will,” he mumbled, mouth stuffed with half of the carrot he was chewing on, very loudly, “can I not enjoy my food first?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation, giving the fakest of smiles in return, “you should do it before you eat.”

Another eye roll from Minho was like water off a duck’s back.

“I'd also appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me with your mouth full of food either.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You coughed, turning on your hills to face a very unimpressed roommate. His stare was eye shattering. Yes, he was very, no, extremely good looking. However, every single thing that made up his personality could not be more different to you. Sloppy, messy, lazy. Took no responsibility for any of his actions, especially the high pitch noises (that obviously were not his) you would hear from his room in the early hours of the morning. You would pinch your pillow together, praying extremely hard that the noise would stop, and by the time it did, you would get maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep. College was becoming tiring, not only from staying up to complete assessments, but the lewd noises you could hear from at least 2 people in his room. Your blunt attitude towards Minho’s unhygienic and disrespectful habits were definitely justified.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you nitpick everything I do?”

Your jaw dropped, completely dumbfounded.

“Me? Nitpicking you? Please,” you scoffed, “you don't clean up after yourself ever, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere, and don't even get me started on the fact that I barely get any sleep because of your wild sex adventures with other people that occur almost every weeknight, when you know I have to wake up early to go to class next day.”

A combination of frustration and exhaustion could be heard through the harshness of each breath. The smirk that appeared on his face was absolutely punch worthy. What on earth was there to be so cocky of?

“My wild sex adventures,” he paused taking a bite of the dreaded carrot, “please, tell me more about my wild sex adventures.”

His tongue was now obviously pressed against his cheek, a devil coated smile still very apparent on his face. The longer he was looking at you like that, the hotter your cheeks became. Pure anger began to course through you; all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. It was definitely enough for you to get the green light to slap him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “I don’t need to explain how I can hear them moaning your name every night, or the banging I hear from wall to-”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “you seem to be listening very well.”

Distracted by your anger for a brief moment, you gasped suddenly, feeling Minho’s fingertips at your sides. You turned around, swatting his hands away, giving him that slap that you felt you had earned across the face.

“Who the fuck said you could touch me?

“Did you just fucking slap me?”

“Yes I fucking did,” you spat, “what do you take me for?”

“You know what you’re right, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass. I hear you on the phone to your friends, complaining about how you don't get any action from anyone.”

You stood there in disbelief. “So you’ve been eavesdropping on my convos as well?”

“Well it’s kind of hard not to hear, you know, the walls in this house are kind of thin.”

Your jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, the conversation was at a stand still.

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I sure can sweetheart,” the name sending a shiver down your spine, “if you're that sexually frustrated, go and do something about it instead of taking it out on me?”

A laugh that you didn't even know you were capable of bellowed from your chest. You stumbled back, grabbing onto stool behind the bench for support.

“Me? Sexually frustrated? Please,” you huffed, “I’m not sexually frustrated, and it definitely has nothing to do with you.”

Another scoff escaped your lips as you shuffled back to your room. Closing the door behind you, a heavy sigh came from your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed. How on earth was he able to read you like that? So well and so accurate? It was all you could think about, not to mention the fact that it was also night time simultaneously.

You let your body fall onto your bed sheets. The feeling of restlessness was consuming your body. As you crawled into bed, you looked straight into the ceiling. Why were you thinking about his words so much? Were you really taking it out on him? You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself for even considering the thought.

Minho was a lazy slob who was extremely inconsiderate of others, especially you. But why was the thought of his fingers on your sides becoming the main source of agitation.? The silence of your thoughts was deafening, but they were easily interrupted as soon as you heard the door open, a high pitched voice followed what felt like the most ludicrous creek you had ever heard. ‘I should really put some oil on the door huh?’ You paused for a couple of seconds, this time physically face palming yourself for the dumb excuse you had made to see who he had decided to bring over to accompany him tonight. Legs completely ignoring your brain, you were out of bed, hand twisting the knob and peeking a look at the poor girl that would be subjected to Minho’s torture tonight. Tip toeing out of the doorway, you kept the weight of a feather on your toes, making yourself as invisible as possible.

“Y/n?”

Your pink panther stance of attempted deception looked utterly ridiculous and not sly at all was extremely confusing to the two. You quickly relaxed into a normal stance, the fakest of smiles coming across your face as you see who it is he brought home to have his way with.

“Chaeyeon… heyyy,” you lingered, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You would have been happy with literally anyone else. But Chaeyeon? Chaeyeon? It’s like she was your number one arch rival. Minho knew how much you hated her, yet he still let her come over. Everything about her you could not stand, not to mention the fact that she home wrecked your last serious relationship. Even though it was a while ago, you can forgive but not forget, her face being a constant reminder of your hurtful past.

“Oh hey Y/N,” she almost signed, her amount of excitement to see you matching yours, “I didn’t know you lived here.”

The arm he had around her waist made you sick.

“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me,” you mumbled, foot swaying back and forth, eyes focused on said foot.

“Okay, so you guys have had a little reunion,” Minho interrupted. Anything would have been better to break the awkward silence than his sarcastic comments, “we’re gonna go to my room now.”

“NO!” you interjected, covering the hallway with every bit of your being, “I mean, what’s the rush huh? Changbin is coming over as well.”

You paused, Minho’s face clearly cussing you out if yelling was inappropriate at this current moment.

“Uh no thanks Y/N-”

“We should all hang out!”

The excitement coming from your voice was so inauthentic, it was hard to miss.

“Yeah! Let’s all hang out,” you walked behind them, placing a hand on each of their backs and you hurried them to the couch, “I’ll get some beers in the fridge.”

“I actually only drink vodka,” Chaeyeon yawns, obnoxiously twirling her hair, her other hand aggravatingly high on his thigh.

“Oh that’s totally fine,” you gritted through tightly clenched teeth, “we have a bottle in the fridge, I’ll grab that for you as well.”

You scuffled back over to the fridge, mentally cursing yourself as you grabbed the necessary beverages. The confusion you were giving yourself about why you were putting in so much effort to spend time with the two people you literally hated more than anything was mind baffling

“So,” you began again, passing a Corona to Minho, a glass to Chaeyeon, “how have you been finding your course so far?”

You sat the Smirnoff and Orange juice on the table. Yes, you were being nice, but not nice enough to pour the drink for this bitch.

“Oh it was so great,” she smiled, “Jisung and I were living together, it was, well, a dream really.”

The feeling of your nails became prominent in your fists as your fingers caved in. The mention of his name was enough to make you see red, let alone the idea of them being happily together. The itch of your eye begging to roll was becoming too prominent, so much that you had to get up and walk away for a second. You stood up abruptly, confusion etched into Minho’s features. You didn’t want to make this a big deal, but the fact that she continued to gloat about it, long after you stopped listening was enough to reach your breaking point.

“I think I heard my phone ringing from my room, it must be Changbin.”

“I don't think I hear anything,” Minho smirked, plastering his lips on the edge of the bottle. The way his lips wrapped around the tip of the warm glass was something you ‘accidentally’ became fixated on. You puffed your cheeks, storming to your room and somewhat aggressively shutting the door behind you. Scrambling for your phone on the bedside table, you panicked, unclear mind as you scrolled through your phone contacts. You paused, an inducing amount of oxygen filling up your lungs. It did little to calm the irritated tingling sensation in your fingers.

Changbin’s name had finally popped up on your phone after what had felt like a lifetime.

“Hello?”

His voice was husky, guilt panging your chest as you realsied you had probably woken him up from his not very often deep slumber.

“Changbin,” you gasped, “you know how much I love you right?”

“What do you need me to do?”

You snickered at his words. He had been your friend for too long to know that those words would never be said unless you needed something.

“Can you come over,” you pleaded, “Chaeyeon is here with Minho because he invited her over late at night, and I told them you were coming over?”

“Jesus Y/n,” Changbin sighed, a playful chuckle tickling your cheek, “so you want me to come over and make Minho jealous?”

“Wait no wtf,” you jumbled, “make Minho jealous? I just want you to flirt with me and Chaeyeon so she leaves.”

“Mhm yeah,” he chuckled once more, voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, “I’ll come over, but if you don't sleep with him by the end of the night, I’m gonna be extremely disappointed.”

“Yeah okay whatever just get your ass over here now.”

And with that you abruptly ended the phone call, Changbin giving you no peace of mind. Were you this easy to read by everybody? A frustrated sigh exploded from your chest. The games your head and your heart were playing with were helping you come to no resolution. You sat on your bed, thoughts were running crazy. Now would be a really great time to just put on Netflix and curl into bed, have some snacks and fall asleep, chip trail on ur chest to be found in the morning.

You were interrupted by the very loud knock on the door. Sprinting like your life depended on it, you were relieved. Seeing Changbin’s face had never before given you so much joy.

“Changbin,” you shouted, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Y/n what are you doing-”

“Shut up and go along with it,” you mumbled into his chest, letting up, but still keeping your body tightly wounded against his. Minho’s jaw became clenched, or were you just imagining things?

Regardless of what it was, your brain quickly shifted to the way Chaeyeon was eyeing Changbin up and down, almost like it was the first time she had ever seen an attractive male. ‘She definitely wasn’t looking at Minho like that when he walked in’ you thought, an unconscious smirk coming to mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip, an extremely poor attempt at masking the satisfaction of your goal being achieved so easily. One step closer to kicking her out, for good, because there was no way you weren’t talking to Minho after this about making an explicit declaration of her abandonment from this house.

“Minho,” he smiled, earning a nod, “Chaeyeon,” he smirked, an almost gag spilling out of your mouth.

“Changbin,” she followed, repeating his smirk, “long time no see.”

She gulped, engulfing a large sip of alcohol into her wicked mouth.

“Let’s play a game!”

“A game,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow, “why would we play-”

“I think that’s a great idea!”

You turned to look at him, a puzzled expression still very apparent on your facial features.

“Get the vodka out from the fridge, and let’s get started.”

***

Two bottles of vodka down, and what looked like 8 bottles of Corona sitting empty on the table, the games that were being played were becoming more difficult to comprehend. Sound of giggle and laughter constantly filled the room as everyone slowly began to lose their minds to the intoxication.

“O-okay, never have I e-ever, done a sexual act in public.”

Filters of chuckles and laughter filled the room as everyone, but you took a sip.

“What?” she asked, offering you her fake sympathy, “you’ve never done anything like that before?”

“I-I mean,” you stuttered, the look of confusion was evident, “I don’t think I have-”

“Yes you have.”

All eyes were snapped open and pressing into Minho’s skull as he began to converse.

“Pfft, no I have not,” you scoffed, taking another swig. An eye roll left came from Minho, followed by a sound of what seemed to be disgust as he shot gunned his current bottle.

“Yes you have,” he nagged, playfully hitting your shoulder, “I saw you.”

Complete silence fell over the room as he words lingered in the air. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.The feeling of the room had suddenly changed. His eyes became soft, fixated on nothing but the way your body slumped against the rough material of the couch.

Your mind began to drift. Thoughts floating into earlier scenes of the night. The closeness of his breath fanning your neck ever so softly, palms spread across your hips. The idea of marks on you swimming into your head. God that would feel so good. Letting him grab you and throw you onto his bed. Climbing up your frame, starting from the bottom of your legs, keeping a tight grip on your inner thighs. The feeling of faint lips stealing every inch of your being, tantalisingly hitting every, single, spot, finally reaching your-

“Y/N? Y/N!”

The feeling of Changbin's shaking your shoulders definitely brought you back to reality. His hands did feel nice, but they weren’t the ones you were longing for. Your head was thrown back, disbelief filling you as your mind continued to fill the gutter.

“When?”

As you moved closer, you giggled, placing your finger tip across his knee. You let them dance, index fingers tapping away at the skin you so desperately wanted to see in this moment.

“Mr. Lee Minho, when did you see me?”

“I’m not saying it here in front of-”

“Who? Chaeyeon?”

Your prowling continued, bodies even closer as you slowly began to climb him like an inanimate object. This would have been completely awkward sober. Nothing about this was romantic in the slightest. To an outsider, or Changbin and Chaeyeon, you were right there, situated across Minho’s lap. It wasn’t quite a straddle, it was just something. They both stayed quiet, paying little attention to your animalistic act, already focused on feeling each other up. Or so you assumed, seeing as they didn’t say anything. All that was heard was the sound of the front door. You snapped your head for a quick moment, eyes scanning the emptiness the room suddenly felt.

“It was in the car.”

Minho’s words felt heavy, like he had more to say.

“The car?”

You were taken aback, face moving away from the closeness of his. Part of your brain clicked, remembering exactly what he was talking about. With Jisung. The memory of hurt was quickly forgotten as the feeling of Minho’s palms spread across your body was bringing you to life. The adrenaline came all at once. Your mind was telling you to move away, but your body was saying something else, affirming it’s position.

Minho was leaning in, barely any spaces between the two as his fingertips began to spread lower and lower, firmly gripping either side of your ass as he moved you closer. A helpless whimper escaped your lips as you felt your legs tighten, heat running down to your core, quickly. What the fuck was happening right now?

“You were on top of him,” he whispered, pulling your hips against him once more, “just like this.”

“F-fuck,” was all that managed to slip out of your lips. This was becoming difficult. So difficult to say no and move away. You knew it was the right thing to do. Things would just be awkward and you could go back to hating him. No matter how much you tried, how much you wanted to, you were powerless. Every fiber of your being was being given up to him. You leaned in closer, foreheads now touching as you looked at him. His gaze was anything but lacklustre as his jaw became tense. His body began to ache simultaneously with yours. The pressure was becoming too much.

“Do you want this?”

“What?”

A small whine escaped you at the loss of his tips gripping your body. They quickly made their way to either side of your face. Your body began to rock back and forth on it’s own. You had become desperate for any sort of friction that you could create.

“I said, do you want this?”

“Do you?”

His expression made you nervous. It was hard to read. All you could see was the black substance of his pupils enlarge, increasing in diameter by the second. Almost like a supernatural being was possessing him.

“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself on top of him, “you’re making it hard to say no.”

Things were already becoming hazy the longer you stayed. A huff of frustration came from him as he was giving all his effort not to give into the way you were rubbing your dampening heat against him. It was like a drug he could not refuse.

“Kiss me if you want me.”

He huffed, the edge of his lips just barely brushing against the tip of your nose.

“Kiss me, and give me the green light.”

You waited a moment, any part of your brain that wasn't concentrated solely on his palms digging into your sides trying to reason. You looked at him once more. His eyes, nose, lips. His lips.

“Fuck it.”

He was quick to work, pushing you down to lie flat against the couch. A small kiss to your lips was felt as he pulled away, lifting his arms up and throwing his shirt to the floor at Usain Bolt pace. The smirk on your face was too easy for him not to see.

“You like what you fucking see don’t you?”

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Of course. Of course he was still that arrogant cocky motherfucker that you could not stand. The one who never cleaned up after himself. Or took too long in the shower for the hot water to run out. All of these evil perceptions you had of your roommate were disappearing as his lips were gently placed onto yours. It was a little too slow for your liking, but it was deep. Boy, was it deep. Each movement of his tongue was made with so much precision as he lowered himself onto you. His thighs were clenched, a soft groan could be heard against his lips as his groin pressed into you. Holy fuck, were you really doing this? It was so wrong. Everything in the world was saying to stop, stop this.

“Mm- wait,” you paused your hands on his chest to push him away, “wait.”

A flash of panic waved over his eyes as he quickly jumped off of you, face palming the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you interjected, giggling at the never been seen care and caution he had for you, “I just don’t think we should do this.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. You kept your gaze lowered; looking at him would have made you feel so guilty. The feeling of regret started to seep into your bones, but you couldn't tell: was it regret of this ever happening, or was it regret from stopping? Your head was too muddled to even attempt to comprehend what had just appended. The only sound that could be heard was your scuffed footsteps, quickly pacing back to your room and shutting the door, hard. The loudest sigh known to earth could be heard on the opposite side of the room as you let your body collapse. The ache between your legs was growing by the second; and as much as you tried to suppress the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours, fingertips dragging along your sides. No. It was much easier this way. Setting boundaries as roommates seemed to be a better idea for the long run.

But the long run was boring. You would both have to pretend that this never happened. Having other people over for sexual purposes would just be awkward now; the more you thought about it, the realisation, and the jealousy hit that you had already crossed said boundary. And maybe that’s why your feet had dragged you to the front of his bedroom door. How the fuck did you get here? You brought your knuckles to the wooden frame, door becoming slightly ajar as you gently knocked. Minho’s snapped his head around, covering himself quickly as you walked in. You cocked your eyebrow, a face of confusion apparent on your face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, turning back to his previous position, “what do you want?”

You wanted to just walk out. Mind your business and just leave. But it was hard, quite literally. The imprint of what you assumed to be Minho’s naked lower half painfully pressing into the sheer sheets that was covering him. He paid you no more attention, giving you all the power to initiate whatever it is you wanted to initiate. You slowly crept in beside him, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck as he groaned in annoyance.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Hmm, I think I changed my mind,” you whispered, reaching around to grab him. A blunt hiss escaped Minho’s lips as your action made him turn around. He was so close to you now. So close that you could feel his breath spreading across your left cheek.

“Are you being serious right now?”

The look on his face was unimpressed to say the least.

“Yeah, I mean,” your voice was calm as your hand began to take flight, sliding down to the base of his shaft, “we’ve already crossed the line, let’s go a little further.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He grabbed you by the wrist that was currently on him, pulling it away and climbing on top of you. Both hands now leaving his side, securely attached onto both wrists as he pinned them down above your head. Nose clumsily tickling yours as he reattached his lips to yours. The feeling of his lips was much softer and calmer than before, almost like he was protecting you. Wanting to keep the moment so delicate, though the way his bare hips involuntarily grinding against your clothed core was far from it. A soft whimper came from your lips, vibrating against his. A soft chuckle was heard from Minho as he pulled away; it made you nervous. To be more specific, the way that arrogant, mischievous smirk that you knew all too well was spread across his face.

“You’re so responsive to me,” he growled, quickly planting another one on your lips before sliding down to your jaw, then your neck, stopping at your chest. Nothing needed to be said as you quickly discarded your shirt, silently thanking your past self for not wearing any underneath. Minho situated himself in front of your now bare chest, waist sitting against your heart as he took one nipple into his mouth, fingers enclosing around the other. A loud whine left your lips, back arching in reaction to him. He looked up, satisfied filling his body as you weren’t able to return his gaze, head already rolled all the way back as he continued his playful assault.

“It’s so cute,” he mumbled between kisses, “so responsive and I’ve barely done anything.”

His lips travelled down the center of your stomach, dipping dangerously closer to where you wanted him most. His continuous rhythm between kisses was immaculate. Any of the incoherent sounds you made, or the crude remarks he made were left unsaid.

“Fuck,” you hissed, painfully throbbing at the way Minho played with the waistband of your panties.

“Not fun to be teased y/n,’ he paused, making sure you were looking at him, “is it.”

A pang of guilt hit your chest for a moment. I mean, it’s not like you did it on purpose, right?

“Minho I’m-”

“Save it,” he scoffs, “whether you did it on purpose, or not, I’m not gonna let you have it so easily.”

His fingers stopped their performance across your hips, continuing a little lower than before. The smirk came to his lips once more, index finger running down your slit. The friction was fierce, but not fierce enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. All he could do was smile at your mercy.

“So fun to tease darling, but you’re gonna have to be more vocal if you want these panties off.”

“Minho please,” you whined, “for fucks sake.”

You bucked your hips forward, desperate for any more contact from the bare minimum he was giving you.

“That doesn’t sound very nice to me.”

“Minho please, please, please,” you whispered, voice becoming super weak, “fuck me, or finger me, anything please, I need to feel you.”

“Now that’s more like it,” he smiled, finally pulling your panties down. You have never lifted your hips faster in your life. The vulnerability of your naked body was somewhat confronting, but your brain was so fogged out from the immense teasing, you cared little.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spreading you effortlessly with two fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren't you?”

The heat in your cheeks rose as you became embarrassed at his words. Minho didn’t know this, but feeling humiliated was something that could make you cum on the spot. Words intended for insult went through your ears and straight down to the core, the heat becoming like an intense fire igniting in your body as one of his hands moved along your inner thigh, the other gently beginning to circle around where you needed him most.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god Minho please, more.” Your voice was becoming needier by the second, but the longer it went on, the less you seemed to care. His tongue was now a factor coming into play, small kitty licks lapping your clit at a suddenly fast pace. Your legs are already trembling, but Minho does more to appease, hooking his arms under and around your thighs to stop the flustered look on your face. It was confronting how quickly he was getting you to your high.

“Please,” you sighed, eyes hazed as you attempted to look down at the way his tongue was on you. The combination of him sucking on your clit, then pushing it through your entrance almost made you scream. However, the noises that came from your mouth were small, heavy pants, progressively getting louder and louder the tighter the knot in your stomach became.

“Do you wanna cum princess?” His voice was whiny, mocking the tone you had used earlier. You nodded ferociously, knowing any attempt to speak would come out horse or just broken.

“Such a good girl,” he purred, replacing his tongue with two fingers, “but if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beg for it once more.”

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you groaned, an attempt of grinding your center onto Minho’s fingers failing miserably, “you’re being so unfair.”

“I’m unfair?” he scoffed, beginning his digits back to a bare minimum pace, “you’re the one

who was teasing me all night. I know Changbin is like, your best friend so there was no chance you were bringing him back to fuck him. Then you start to kiss me, hard and fast may I add, AND THEN ! you aren’t sure and you leave me to pretend like nothing happened.”

There was no witty comeback you could say in response because he was right. You were the one who has done the teasing for most of the night.

“You looked so fucked out right now baby,” his tone coming back to a calming medium, “begging for me to make you cum, which I can do right now,” he paused, climbing back to your side, lifting your left leg to continue his easy access to ur clit, “or you can beg even more to have my cock inside of you. The choice is yours.” You swallowed, hard. How could he say something so filthy? Out of all the times you had heard him bring other girls over, he would never talk like this. It was always so nice and calm, full of praise and compassion. Maybe they didn’t act like cock teases and let him just have what he wanted.

“C-cock,” you mumbled, pushing your backside against his now pulsating cock, “please give your cock sir.”

“Ooo sir, I like that one, but you’re gonna have to do more if you want me to fill you up princess.”

Words were becoming extremely hard to not only facilitate in your mind, but put them on your tongue and get out to him. He knew this. He knew your were on the brink of collapsing in cum, but the torture was too entertaining for him nonetheless. Although you're frustrated with him was increasing, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the way he was using you like a sex toy was turning you on. After being up his ass so long with rules around the house and how you wanted things done, it was nice to finally let go. Submit to his rules instead of yours.

“P-please Minho, sir’ you panted, head turning to look at the sadistic face of enjoyment he was having from this, “I’ll do anything, a-anything to have your cock inside of me right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay then tomorrow morning, you have to make me breakfast, AND wash my dishes.”

“Seriously,” you panted, “that’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“You said anything.” He shrugged, suddenly taking his fingers away from your dripping core. A gasp of disappointment came to your lips at the loss of delicious contact. Minho sat up, ducking under your leg, and positioning himself right back to where he was previously. However, this time, he was on his knees. Although you were touching it before, you really hadn't had a chance to look at how big it was: way more than what you expected. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure not to get carried away with himself before he pushed it between your folds, letting his pre-cum mix with your juices. He slowly descended into you. Jaws dropping simultaneously, you gasped. The way he was stretching you out did burn a little bit, but once he was fully inside, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Minho waited until the look of slight discomfort faded from your features.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip and he slowly pulled himself back out. He kept a consistent, yet slow pace as leaned in closer to you. He was now hovering over, letting his face become buried into the middle of your breasts. The feeling was so immaculate, you were desperate to cling onto something for support.

“Dig them into me,” he groaned, strangling his vocal cords, “dig your nails into my back and scratch me like your life fucking depends on it.”

Perfect. You did as he pleased, a loud moan of his name wrestling from your lips as you felt the red marks appear on his backside. The pressure from before was already building in your stomach again, and he could tell. The way you were super tight for him was one, but the way you were now clenching around him was another. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept doing that.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage to say, a deep grin plastered on his face.

“You’re close aren't you,” he cooed, attaching his lips to your neck, “talk to me baby, tell me what you're feeling.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck I’m so close baby. H-Harder.”

The pitch of your tone was becoming whinier by the second. To add to that, the way you became confused, as if Minho was a vampire, because the way he was sucking on your neck was kind of painful. Nevertheless, you relished in it, knowing too well that a very, very dark mark would replace his mouth. The idea of him showing his possession of you, knowing that he finally won you over did not make you happy, nonetheless, you were too fucked out to care.

Your legs were now pushed all the way back, pace fastening by the minute, allowing Minho to push even deeper into you. And that was it. Right there, the spot you had never even known was even there.

“Ah fuck!” Your moan was loud this time, completely unable to control anything. The smirk, in combination with the satisfied growl that left his lips was a face of pure ecstasy as he realised that he had finally hit your G-spot.

“Fuck that feels so fucking good,” Minho grumbled, “are you close? Because I think I’m gonna cum.”

It was like your stomach was an orchestra. Minho’s words were the conductor, completely controlling how close you were to your release.

“Y-yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum so hard right now.”

“You wanna cum baby?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna cum right now?”

“Yes baby,” you pouted, a perplexity of sounds escaping your lips, completely out of your control.

“Cum on my cock princess,” Minho whispered through what sounded to be like pained groans, “be a good girl and cum with me inside of you.”

And there it was, like it was on queue as your body completely flopped, legs shaking and a string of lewd curse words fell from your lips. The way your pussy clenched around him was enough to make him pull out, spilling into the dip of your stomach. A loud breath of what seemed to be exhaustion fell from his lips. Your eyes were previously screwed so shut, it hurt when you opened them again, sensitive to the light.

“Fuck,” you both cursed simultaneously, making one another giggle. Minho fell to your left side, flat on his back as he invited you to scooch over next to him. Face pressed against his chest, fingers playfully dragging up and down his torso. For some reason, he felt so safe and secure at this moment. Almost forgetting how he literally just fucked you into oblivion, your eyelids become heavy. It wasn’t until Minho spoke that you were revived from your alternate state of consciousness once more.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice sounded genuinely surprised, unsure if you should be offended or not. You looked up at him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the dark shade tinting his face right now said enough.

“Please,” you scoffed, “You did me good, but was that the best you can do?”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, but down on it after, “Is that a challenge?”

You said nothing, instead sitting up and pushing your legs on either side of his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt your still dripping heat sitting on the base of him.

“Why don’t you find out and see?”

[ethanesimp]

AMAMI PER SEMPRE // E.T.

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x Fem! Reader

Summary: Ethan isn’t the brightest—or the best—when it comes to surprises, so his attempt at proposing to you causes a few misunderstandings...

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Swearing, a tiny tiny mention of death, some angst, other than that it’s pure fluff and me projecting my obsession with old books onto the reader.

Request: Ethan planning to propose and acting super nervous and strange (a bit angsty bc the reader doesn’t know what’s happening) and ending in pure fluff.

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

A/N: After more than a year of stepping foot into a bookstore for *cough* obvious reasons, I got to go to one yesterday. While looking at some second-hand books I had an idea that I decided to combine with @kawaiiwxnnabe​’s lovely request to bring you this. I hope you enjoy! <3 

Ethan had been mindlessly listening to Damiano sing Amandoti when the thought of marrying you first seriously crossed his mind. It had been a thing he’d thought of countless times ever since he started dating you, but it had never remained with as much intensity as it had that time. 

Damiano, who had noticed his friend’s face illuminate all of a sudden, had a talk with him that once and for all convinced Ethan that it was the right time and you were the right person. He didn’t sleep at all that night because he couldn’t stop thinking about what would be the perfect way to propose to you. It was no secret to him—or anyone who knew you—that you were a hopeless romantic. 

There was nothing that made you happier than simple and small details that came from the heart. That was the reason why you had developed an affinity towards old books. Not only did they have a particular and special scent that reminded you of vanilla and chocolate, but some had the luck—as you liked to call it—of being embellished by notes on margins or dedications on covers. Whether they were about love, sorrow, or maybe even hate, they still showed a small glimpse into the life of the person who had once owned it. Those notes told a story that would prevail even long after they were gone from the earth. 

Ever since he had noticed that small obsession of yours, Ethan had tried to help you expand your treasured collection by bringing you back books he found at antique stores from every country the band played in. 

During a visit to Spain after he initially had his stirring thought, Ethan took the chance to visit one of the second-hand shops he’d found during a night stroll with Victoria, who had disappeared into a bakery. His main goal was to find something different from the usual books he brought back for you. 

After he walked into the store and vaguely told the old lady at the counter about his idea in the best Spanish he could muster, she smiled warmly at him and guided him to the very back of the tiny shop where a beautiful and worn out bookshelf sat in all its glory, filled with as many books as it could hold. 

He immediately started searching around for the perfect book, but it proved to be harder than he initially thought it’d be. After searching around for more than an hour, all he had found was a collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s tales and poems with a heartbreaking note to someone’s dead lover. While it had almost brought him to tears and was a special thing he’d buy to give to you later, it wasn’t exactly the best thing to help him carry out his plan.   

Victoria walked into the shop when he was about to give up and, fully aware of his plan, started looking around without saying a word to him. They both searched around the messy piles of books for something. It didn’t take long for her to stumble across three books held together by a lilac satin ribbon. 

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. All three contained a note on the very first page right under the title, but the last one stood out above the other two because, according to his basic knowledge of Spanish, it ended with the very question he wanted to ask ¿Quieres casarte conmigo? Or ‘Will you marry me?’. He bought all three of them after a huge smile and a thumbs up from Victoria.  

What he hadn’t expected was for them to remain hidden in a drawer he knew you never opened underneath piles of clothes. Ever since he came back from their small trip to Spain, Ethan had tried to ask the question about six times, but always ended up choking on his words and saying something else. In fact, the first time he ever tried, Ethan chickened out at the last second and ended up giving you the Edgar Allan Poe anthology instead.

You were still none the wiser to his plan even after he’d asked about your opinion on marriage a few times. Anyone would’ve probably caught up with what was going on already, but you were always so busy with things happening around you that you didn’t connect his awkward and nervous attitude with his questions.

You didn’t start giving his actions a second thought until one night… You had been cooped up in your office all day working on a new project you were supposed to present to your boss by the end of the week when you suddenly felt the urge to get up and walk around the house.

Ethan was casually sitting on the couch as he whispered unintelligible words into his phone. You supposed he was on a call with a friend or maybe his manager and was trying to be quiet to avoid disturbing you, but then he hung up the call with a panicked expression the moment he noticed you. After that, you started thinking back on the way he had been behaving ever since he returned and it all raised the suspicion that there was something strange going on. 

It didn’t get any better when he kept on acting weird. Simple things that he had allowed you to do, like using his phone to take pictures because it had a better camera than yours, now seemed to make him almost mad. He’d even snapped at you once when you tried to grab it to take a picture with him. Even if Ethan had apologized right away, it still didn’t calm you down, especially because he had gone as far as to change the password on it.

It almost felt like he was walking on eggshells around you and you didn’t like it one bit. Your relationship had always been about honesty and worked because of constant communication. Everything was just so strange that your mind couldn’t help but think of the worst.

You were an imaginative person who never had any difficulties when it came to envisioning things clearly. Unfortunately, that also applied to every negative thought that crossed your mind, so it wasn’t hard for you to start coming up with the worst explanations as to why he was acting so suspicious. It didn’t help much that he had been busier than normal because the band was wrapping up on their latest album, so you hadn’t had the opportunity to sit down and voice all your concerns, to ask if something was going on and if there was a way to fix it. 

The morning of your anniversary, you’d finally had enough. You had woken up, expecting to feel Ethan’s arm tightly wrapped around your waist and to receive a shower of kisses the moment he noticed you were awake, but no. There was no Ethan and the side of his bed was already neatly made.

Your disappointment only grew when he wasn’t in the kitchen or his small studio where he had his drums. You doubted he was in the house at all. 

It was a thing that wouldn’t have affected you much had he done it any other time, but with everything that had been going on as of late, you could only fear the worst. So, without being able to control yourself, you started making the worst conclusions. You’d always been fully aware that he loved you, but all the signs undoubtedly pointed at him meeting someone new… And maybe he was going to leave you for them as well… during your anniversary.

That was all you needed to break into tears. You climbed back into bed and cried for what seemed to be hours. Even since you got together, you had thought of him as your person, your forever. The thought of him leaving you broke your heart into tiny pieces.

Ethan arrived home only a few minutes after you’d buried yourself underneath all the blankets and cried out all your worries. When he was about to open the door to your bedroom, he stopped. Were you crying? 

He stood there in complete silence for a few seconds until he was more than sure that you were, in fact, crying. Ethan rushed inside and he felt his heart break at the sight of you looking so heartbroken, and it didn’t get any better when he heard a whimper come out of your mouth at the sight of him. You cuddled deeper into the bedsheets and turned away from him.

Ethan sat on your side of the bed and, as delicately as possible, he cupped your face into his warm hands and wiped your tears with his thumbs, “Amore,” He said in a quiet voice, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You tried to turn away from him, but his grip on your face stopped you from doing so. You placed one of your hands on top of his and gave it a firm squeeze. No part of you was ready to have that conversation with him because that was going to be it and you were going to have to watch him leave…

So, with a lot of courage, you spoke the first words that came to mind, “You know, i-it’s okay if you’ve found someone else,” You caressed his cheek softly as more tears started spilling down your face, “You can tell me if you have.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your words and the only thing he could do was shake his head no, “What? Found someone else? What would make you say such a thing dolcezza?”

Then, before you could even answer, realization hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt like the stupidest living being on the face of the Earth. He pinched his nose and sighed, annoyed at himself.

“Fuck… I’m so fucking stupid. Please don’t ever think of something like that. I was just… I-I,” Clueless as to what to say, Ethan pressed his lips against yours to kiss you slowly, hoping it spoke more than his words ever could. He could still taste a trace of the salty tears that had fallen on your lips and he couldn’t help but shed a few of his own at the thought that he’d been the one to make you cry.

After pulling away, Ethan pressed his forehead to yours and brushed his nose against yours while his arms held you as close as possible, “Will you close your eyes for just a second, amore mio? I promise everything will make so much sense soon.”

You nodded and kept your eyes closed as you felt him get up from the bed. You heard him open and close a few drawers, and look around for something for a while before he sat back on the bed. Ethan grabbed your hands in his and slowly slipped the three small books into your grasp.

You opened his eyes after a small sound of approval from him and smiled when you saw the three old books held together by a ribbon and the pretty pink rose that had been carefully been slipped into the first book and the ribbon.

You gently removed the flower and placed it on your side. Then you undid the simple knot and picked up the first book, “Wuthering Heights?” You questioned.

He nodded, “Yeah… At least I think that’s it. I hope I didn’t bring back some sketchy book or some shit,” Ethan scratched his neck and you giggled as you opened it on the first page. Your fingers brushed over the letters neatly written down in fountain pen.  

After clearing your throat, you started reading the first dedication out loud. Since your Spanish wasn’t exactly the best either, you had to pause every once in a while to translate all the words, “May 17, 1850… My dearest Helena, I hope this book reaches you in great condition, being apart from you is one of the hardest challenges I have ever had to face, one of the most painful as well. I hope you can find me in between these pages as you read and remember how much I love you, remember how much I long to be back in your arms and kiss your lips. Sincerely, Alejandro.”

You closed it and placed it back on the bed before opening the second book and doing the same thing with the third, “January 24, 1855. Carolina, nothing I’ve ever experienced has gotten close to being as terrible as not having you in my arms. Apologies are overdue… long overdue. Words have never been my strongest suit, yet I still hope I can coherently express just how much I love you, all of you. I’m afraid I’m already too late since you will soon be betrothed to someone else and there will be nothing I can do by then.

 “Still, I hope with everything in my being that this arrives sooner so you’re aware of how sorry I am. I hope you remember that I would do anything you asked without a single complaint just to watch that lovely smile I adore so much appear on your face. If you ever come back to me, I promise with every fiber of my being, and I’ll be dammed if I don’t keep my promise, that I will leave everything behind and escape with you. Anywhere, any time. So with that, I ask a question that will hopefully have a yes as an answer. Will you marry me? With love, Javier.”

Before you could close it, Ethan stopped you and timidly asked for you to open the book on the very last page. You did it and looked back at him with confusion at the sight of his writing on the page, “Read this one out loud for me. Will you Y/N?” You nodded and mumbled a small ‘of course’ before clearing your throat to get rid of the knot that had formed. 

“October 21, 2025… Y/N, my one true love, I’ve always hoped to make a gesture that will remind you of your treasured books. I’ve never been one great with words spoken out loud, so I sought inspiration from those before me who were just as in love with someone as I am with you. Ever since I met you I dreamt of one day settling down with you, of having our small home in the countryside as you’ve always dreamed of. Maybe even doing some of those cloying gestures people seem to do in fiction and dedicate to you the most beautiful love poems I lay eyes on. 

“I’ve wondered for a while how I could ever take the step that would bring me closer to that goal, yet every time I try, words seem to get stuck in my throat with no way out and I end up in square one all over again. It is with this note that I hope to finally take a step in the right direction because I know you’re it for me. You’re my person, my forever, and there’s nothing I would love more than to share my life with you. Sei la mia migliore amica e il mio unico vero amore. Ti chiedo di accettare il mio amore, il mio nome e tutto quello che sono.” (You are my best friend and my one true love. I ask you to accept my love, my name, and everything I am.)

When your eyes spotted the four words that followed, you slowly lowered the book, “Will you marry me?” You both said at the same time, although yours sounded more like an unintelligible mumble. Only then did you notice him down on one knee right in front of you. He held a velvet box with one of the most beautiful rings sitting inside of it 

A hand went to cover your mouth as tears started falling down your face. This time, happy and free of worry. You could only nod repeatedly, overcome with pure joy as your heart swelled with love.

He slowly slid the ring into your finger and grabbed your face to kiss you once again, “I’m so sorry I made you think something else was going on. I just kept backtracking every time I tried to tell you. Not because I was regretting the decision but because I didn’t want to lose you.”

You shook your head as a silent way of saying it was alright and brushed his hair back with your fingers, “The important thing is that you’ve done it and you’re not going to lose me, no matter how hard you try. I’ll always be right here because I love you and I’ll always be yours.”

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (11)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It’s simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if…Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

“A future without you is a world without color.”

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, ANGST, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

SERIES:  CHAPTER 10 | CHAPTER 12

"You don't have to pay me, Guk."

 Jeongguk shook his head instantly. Yoongi was being absurd. How could he not pay his older friend?

 "I know you have the money, but I can't just take ten thousand dollars from you, hyung." The younger boy pouted his lips.

Yoongi should know by now that Jeongguk hated owing people something.

 Debt of gratitude sucked. It couldn't be paid. Ever. Jeongguk didn't want that. He hated sleeping at night thinking that someone out there could manipulate his feelings—this was how he perceived debt of gratitude: a manipulation. It was because he felt like he was bound please the person who helped him. It was as though he needed to act in accordance to the likes of said person.

 "Fine." Yoongi shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't care about any of this. "Pay me whenever you want,"

 Jeongguk snorted as your voice echoed inside his head. If you were here, you would tell Yoongi that he couldn't just tell his debtor to pay him whenever he wanted. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

 Civil obligations like this one was only enforceable for ten years. If Jeongguk couldn't pay within the said period, the obligation would then become a natural one—something that would only be paid out of conscience.

 Jeongguk shook his head. Why was he thinking about the stupid law? Why couldn't he stop imagining your pretty smile as you talked about certain provisions? Why was he hesitating to accept his hyung's money?

 And most importantly, why didn't he want to leave you now?

 Your soulmate loaned thousands of dollars from Yoongi just so he could pay the down payment for the apartment that he wanted buy. He promised himself that he would terminate the lease of contract with you after four months. He just couldn't live with you anymore.

 You were supposed to be temporary in his life; however, with the way you were invading his mind even though you weren't around, Jeongguk realized that you were his constant.

 You were the only person who could tolerate his bratty attitude. You were the only person who couldn't get mad at him. You were the only person who made him feel special and needy—Jeon Jeongguk needed your attention so much that he felt like had to run.

 He didn't know when it started, especially because he believed he was not over Red yet.

 Red.

 Was Red the reason why Jeongguk wanted to leave you?

 This was what you thought while clutching the paper on your chest.

 It hurt, but as usual you had to pretend like you were okay.

 "Your parents are back in their hotel," said by Jeongguk the moment he entered your apartment.

 He was back from the thirty-minute drive.

 Your parents were scheduled to fly to Jeju Island tomorrow morning.

 "That's good." You discreetly wiped your tears away, trying so hard to make your tone sound enthusiastic. 

 Your back was facing him since you were afraid to let him see you crying.

 You didn't want to pester Jeongguk regarding his plan to leave. You felt like he wouldn't appreciate the drama you would obviously bring.

  Jeongguk didn't deserve drama—not when it was clear that he was exhausted. He took care of you these past weeks. The only thing you could do was to give him a damn break even if it meant sleepless night as questions like 'why am I not enough?' clouded your mind.

 "Thanks, Jeongguk. Goodnight!" You hastily added, refusing to look at him as you made your way to your room.

 "Wait," he stopped you like the way he did earlier today. This time, however, he stopped you by breaking your heart even more.

 "C-Can I sleep in your room tonight?" Jeongguk swallowed the lump in his throat; his heart was beating so fast.

 You flinched.

 How dare he ask something so insensitive?

 "Why?" Your lips trembled as you finally found the courage to look at him. It was a wrong move, though. You couldn't do it. You couldn't look at him without tears filling your eyes.

 Looking at Jeon Jeongguk made you realize what you could never have: him.

 You were grateful he's averting your gaze. Jeongguk couldn't meet your eyes as well. He was embarrassed and afraid. What if you rejected him? He didn't have any reason to cuddle with you tonight. Jimin was right. Your parents were the solution to help you get back on your feet. It was as though they had some kind of power. You didn't look like you needed your soulmate to make you feel better anymore. 

 You were back to your old self.

 Sadly Jeongguk had no idea that you were just pretending. He didn't know that you were forced to be okay once again. He wasn't even aware that he was one of the reasons why you're acting like everything was fine.

 "I just want to make sure you're alright," his voice was barely audible.

 Jeon Jeongguk was a liar. The truth was you weren't the only one getting used to cuddling with each other. Jeongguk was also craving to embrace you—to listen to your controlled breathing and raging heartbeat.

 "Really?" You suddenly huffed, causing Jeongguk to flick his gaze at you.

 Your soulmate was a good liar, you were not.

 There's a point where pain was too much to handle.

 Jeongguk was staring at you with puzzled expression. His mouth went agape upon seeing the tears streaming down your face.

 "You want to make sure I'm okay so you can finally leave?"

 "What?" He furrowed his brow, clearly not understanding the words you just said. How could he focus on anything when all he could see was your tears?

 Jeongguk wanted to wipe your stupid tears, but you weren't letting him.

 You took three steps backwards when he tried to reach for your face.

 Anger, frustration, and pain. All of these are visible in your eyes. Your thoughts were poisoning your mind—making you imagine what you thought Jeongguk felt.

 "You...called my parents b'cause you're t-tired of me, right?" You slurred.

 You wanted to run to your room since you knew you couldn't stop speaking your thoughts anymore. This wasn't right. You told yourself you weren't going to make this hard for your soulmate, so why couldn't he do the same thing for you?

 Why was he cornering you? Why couldn't he just go away? 

 And why couldn't you stop the venom in your words?

 "You don't want to deal with me anymore. You want to leave but you're guilty. You feel like you are responsible for my pain," this must be it. You kept thinking what triggered his sudden change of behavior. It couldn't be because he finally realized that he liked you too.

 No. That couldn't be right. The only plausible explanation for this was because of the guilt he felt. He only started to act like he cared when you told him that he hurt you too.

 "That's not true..." But Jeongguk was quick to dismiss the negative thoughts inside your head.

 You inhaled deeply. Fresh tears stained your cheeks.

 "What's the truth, then?" You picked up the paper that would prove his intention to leave.

 It was too late to stop now. You were already acting pathetic in front of him. 

 "Why didn't you tell me you bought an apartment?" You continued to ask despite knowing the reason.

 You didn't. You were imagining things. What you think was different from what Jeongguk felt. Admittedly, his eyes widened. He wasn't expecting you to confront him about this. Hell. You weren't even supposed to find out this way.

 Jeongguk was planning to simply sign the contract to terminate your lease agreement with him, leave your apartment in the middle of the night and never come back.

 Guess he couldn't do it now, huh?

 "I-I," he trailed off instantly. How could he explain this to you when he himself didn't know why he wanted to leave?

 Jeongguk wished it was easy to face his emotions. He identified them, but he still didn't know what to do—not even after spending weeks cuddling with you.

 He needed to be alone, he needed to figure out what he felt and what this all meant to him on his own.

 "Is it me, Gukkie?" You sobbed and your soulmate's heart clenched.

 Your back was against the wall, Jeongguk was standing so close to you to the point that he could literally see the tears forming in your eyes.

 It broke him more.

 "Did I cross the line? Am I being too pushy? Annoying? Hard do deal with?"

 Jeongguk could only bite his bottom lip.

 You proceeded to list the things your former maids despised about you.

 "Is Miri too much too handle? Am I picky with the food? Is it hard to wake me up in the morning?"

 Jeongguk avoided your eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

 You noticed that he couldn't speak. Why? Was it difficult to admit the truth?

 "Or am I not buying you enough things?"

 The conflicted boy shook his head vigorously. You did not understand anything.

 "Do you need a new laptop? New clothes? Art materials?" You sounded so desperate. "Tell me, Gukkie. I'll do anything you want."

 "I don't need you to do anything." He said coldly as he moved away from you.

 Pain attacked your chest when you saw indifference dancing in his face.

 "You're still leaving me?" You quivered in fear. You were really pathetic. You said to yourself that you wanted him to go away, but the thought of him actually leaving made your stomach turn upside down.

 "Yes."

 It felt like an arrow shot you in the heart.

 How could he not stutter? Was he really decided to leave you?

 Jeongguk saw how his answer affected you, so he immediately defended himself.

 "I mean it's about right. I told you I'm gonna stay here for a few months. It's over now. I don't want to be your tenant anymore."

 "But why!" You whined. This wasn't fair! How could he decide without consulting you first? This was a reciprocal obligation. You deserved to know his reasons.

 Jeongguk scowled. He wanted to leave now. It was getting unbearable to see you cry—it was as though his chest was going to explode.

 "Do I really need a reason?" His frown deepened. "Can't I just leave because I don't want to be with you anymore?" A lie.

 "You're lying." You refused to believe him even if you knew he was telling the truth. This wasn't you. You weren't like this. It was unlike of you to keep pushing Jeongguk. You teased him all the time, but you didn't mean to make him uncomfortable. His happiness was your top priority.

 You swore you just wanted to know the truth. You deserved a reasonable explanation. He couldn't just say he didn't want to be with you. If he couldn't love you, then he should at least be able to respect you like a normal person.

 "Why would I lie—"

 "Because I'm your soulmate!" You cut him off. Your emotions were overflowing.

 Why couldn't you just let him go?

 "And I love you, Jeongguk." You cried. The table had turned. Just a few breaths ago, he was the one begging to touch you. Right now, however, it was you who was desperately trying to latch on him.

 Jeongguk pushed your hand away. He couldn't have you touching him. It would only make it harder for him to leave.

 "I love you so please don't leave me—"

 "You don't." He cut you off, flinching so hard because of how much he hated your confession. He felt like he was gonna puke.

 "I do, Guk. I love you—"

 "No!" Jeongguk insisted otherwise. He was being stubborn and it was irritating you.

 Who did he think he was to tell you what you felt?

 "You don't love me, okay!? You are wrong in all of this!" He took a step back. He was acting as if your touch was going to burn him.

 "You are delusional. Too caught up with the idea of soulmate that you failed to see the truth!"

 Jeongguk was shaking in frustration. He hated that he had to be mean just to make you understand things—similar to what Red did.

 "I can see the truth! I know the truth!" You carried on.

 He was the one being blinded here, not you.

 "You're just ignoring the signs, Jeongguk. The universe wants us to be together!"

 This wasn't a coincidence. You couldn't be wrong—not when he could see colors because of the love you felt for him.

 But he used this against you.

 "I am not your soulmate." His jaw clenched. "Your eyes can tell."

 You stopped breathing.

 "Your eyes tell." He repeated.

 Your mouth felt dry.

 It felt like you had been stabbed straight in the heart.

 If he was your soulmate, if he ever loved you—or cared, you would see colors by now.

 But no.

 You still see in black and white.

 Your eyes would not lie because Jeon Jeongguk was right....

 Your Eyes Tell.

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (21)

all parts here

_

“Don’t tempt me,” Matthew chuckled and headed down the hall toward his bedroom, “you’re definitely not ready for that yet,” he called behind him. 

He was gone for a few minutes, leaving you standing alone in his living room and feeling weird about it. You didn’t really lie about your intentions, because you did want him, but you were still hung up on letting other people know about it. 

“Here,” he tossed a ball of clothing at you, “to wear back to your place.”

You unraveled the clump of clothing and took note of the Flames tee shirt with his name on the back and the pair of sweatpants with his number printed down the side.

“Wow, no one’s going to know where I came from with these clothes, thank you for the disguise.” 

“I want them to know. I want everyone to know that you’re wearing my name and number and I want to take you out, for real this time. No bullshit, no me showing up drunk and acting like an asshole. I want to take you out on real date.”

You wanted it, you wanted that real date so badly but you still weren’t ready to share your situation with the world. 

“Matt, I…” your response died in your mouth and you felt incredibly stupid wearing clothing with him literally written all over it.

“It can be just us and it will be here. I’ll do everything, all you have to do is show up.”

*

He was practically begging at that point but it was worth it, she was worth it. 

“Just show up? That’s it?”

Matt watched her closely, hoping she’d agree, but there was no describing how he felt when he saw her wearing his clothes, with his name and his number sewed into the fabric.

Holy fuck. He had been waiting for this. He had been waiting for someone to come into his life that was everything he wanted and more. He had been waiting for someone to become a constant, someone that was more than just a night of fun, someone that actually meant something.

He had no idea she would come in the form of someone who initially hated him and still probably might just a little bit, but he wasn’t bothered by that. Matthew knew what he wanted, and as much as his past self might have argued, he had always known. Soulmates were probably bullshit but if they weren’t, he was pretty sure who his was. 

“That’s it, I promise.”

“Fine.” 

“You want me to walk you back to yours?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure your name on my back will give everyone a pretty good indication of who I’m with.”

“You’re with me?”

Her cheeks lit up red but she rolled her eyes and gently slapped him on the shoulder, “your name is on my back. I’m also pretty sure I can make the hike to the elevator by myself, good morning, Matthew Tkachuk.”

He never planned on falling in love, but he knew she was special and it just kind of happened.

*

You didn’t immediately strip out of the clothing Matt had given you and that was the first indication that you needed to fucking cool it. You pulled the sleeve of the shirt to your nose and inhaled the smell of his fabric softener. 

“Ugh,” you looked down at Onyx rubbing against your legs, “he uses the expensive shit.”

It had been an interesting morning but you needed to get to work and get your shit together.

++

You were running late to work and to make matters worse, you had a meeting with the coaches that you were incredibly close to missing. Nearly sprinting into the conference room at the last minute, you took your seat and a calming breath. The meeting was mostly a blur until you were addressed directly. 

“You’re being presented with a new opportunity.”

*

Matt had yet to see her that day but he’d been hearing that she was supposed to have a meeting so he hung around the general area of the conference rooms, hoping to catch her after it was over. She arrived in a rush and gave him a quick wave before heading inside. He wasn’t invited into the conference room but he was able to look through the window and he saw the look of surprise on her face and he knew what was happening.

She was being presented with a new job, and it wasn’t with the Flames.

Just when they were starting to finally fucking figure it out, she was going to be ripped away from him. He couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t lose her. If she was going to leave, he was going to follow her. 

*

The pay was only slightly better than your current salary but taking a job with the Philadelphia Flyers would bring you closer to home and that was definitely something to think about. Taking a job with the Flyers was mostly full of pros but there was only a single con that mattered— Matthew Tkachuk.

He was waiting outside the conference room, dressed in full uniform, and he looked about as stressed as you felt.

“What the fuck are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be on the ice?” 

“Yeah, but I heard you had a meeting and I had to know what was up.”

“Matt, you’re literally on skates and in pads, go to practice.” 

“What happened in your meeting?”

“Go to practice,” you pushed past him and headed toward your office but he wasn’t giving up. 

“You’re leaving aren’t you?”

That stopped you dead in your tracks but you couldn’t turn around and face his question. 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

*

“I haven’t decided yet.”

It wasn’t his place to say anything and it definitely wasn’t his business but that didn’t stop him from grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around to face him.

“Don’t leave. Please?”

“Matt, I don’t know, I haven’t made any decisions.”

He wasn’t interested in her response and ignored it entirely, instead pulling her into his chest and pressing his lips against hers. They moved in sync for only a moment until she was pushing him away. 

“You can’t just do that! I could lose my job! Fucking go to practice, Matt!”

++

She was well aware of their date. He had made sure of it. 

She was also fourteen minutes late and he was starting to get worried that she wouldn’t show. Maybe he had fucked up too many times for her to let it go, maybe she had taken the job with the Flyers and she was already gone. 

Matt paced back and forth in his living room, freaking the fuck out, until a soft knock at his door interrupted his negative thoughts.

“Hi, Matt.” 

“Hey. I didn’t think you were coming.” 

“I’m sorry for being late. The Calgary Flames don’t care if you have plans outside of work.”

“I get it, experience and all, come on in.”

He noticed right away that she was wearing a pair of jeans and the shirt he had given her with his name on the back. 

“I like your shirt, good number and solid name.”

“You think? I like the name but I kinda wish the number was a seven instead.”

“Fuck you,” they both laughed at that as Matt lead her into the kitchen. 

“You’re fucking kidding?”

“I'm not.” 

“Holy shit.” 

*

The spread in front of you was everything you could ever want. Matt had pulled out all the stops and gotten takeout from your favorite diner, Mexican restaurant, Italian place, and Taco Bell. There was more than enough food to feed the entire Flames team. 

“I wasn’t sure what you like, so I made sure there were a lot of options.”

“Are you lying?”

You looked up at him and noticed his cheeks flush as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, “yeah. I might have asked around.” 

“We’ll never be able to eat all of this.”

“I know. I was thinking that, if you’re fine with it, we invite some of the guys and their partners over later. Only if you’re cool with it though, I said it would be just us and I meant it.”

If you agreed, this would be your coming out party with Matt. Everyone would know that you were some sort of something and you still weren’t sure if you were ready for it. 

“We’ll see, I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. We’re on your terms tonight.” 

This was not the man you met two years ago. This was not the man with a shitty attitude and a chip on his shoulder that he took out on everyone. This was not the man that told you to sleep on the floor because he wouldn’t get into bed unless you did. 

This was a different man entirely. 

This was a different Matthew Tkachuk and you kind of hated how much you really fucking liked him. 

[devilscreekballad]

I now ask for opinion on Heroes Rise?

I walked into that one, didn't I?

Short version, I am NOT keen on it. Like I don't HATE hate it (if anyone here saw me ramble about the Good Omens Miniseries, you know what it looks like when I -truly- hate a piece of media), but still...

To be 100% a lot of Curious Cuisine is done out of spite towards HR fans who said HR is the best with certain themes and that it can't be done better.

What however rubs me the real wrong way about it is 1. The author's attitude (like having people pay 100 bucks to be allowed beta testing (this -might- have changed by now), or stalking people down on social media to scream at them for leaving a neutral/negative review on his books on GoodReads, things like that), and 2. the really unfortunate implications in HR that are there in such an amount that I sometimes get the feeling all of the author's statements about being inclusive and progressive are just malicious lies to exploit people. NOT saying that that is the case, but there is A LOT to unpack in HR:

The avalanche of negative stereotypes being portrayed as 'this is how people are', the racist, sexist, queerphobic, ableist undertones, the constant misery and inspiration prn whenever there's a disabled character. And let's not even start on what kind of undertone the whole 'infini' element brings with it.

On top of that there's the inconsistent and contradictory worldbuilding, the scams, the lack of agency the player has, being reduced to a mere audience, the exploitative elements etc. Plus the aforementioned attitude that makes criticism neigh impossible.

Which is fcking annoying because for Hell's sake, ALL, and I mean ALL the groundwork, all the little plothooks for a fcking amazing, tightly spun and thrilling conspiracy mystery are there, 100%, along with a dystopian setting that serves as a very in-depth and informed, cutting commentary on today's obsession with fame and attention, and the tendency to reduce everything to and view everything as black-and-white stereotypes.

I would LOVE to see the potential used. And the shortstory available in Redemption Season showed that potential even clearer (conceptualised by the HR author, written by someone else (forgot the name, sorry)

That said, though:

[blu-joons]

Elopement ~ Song Minho

You couldn’t take your eyes from the wedding band that sat around your finger, the sunlight that came from the window behind you catching perfectly against the silver metal. Beside you, Minho’s did the same, resting against your leg as you waited to be called into the office of YG for a rather stern talking to.

At the time, eloping seemed like the best idea for the both of you, however when Minho returned to work with your marriage written across his finger, it didn’t take long before rumours started to fly, and questions began to be asked.

Whilst it didn’t distract from the pride that he felt at being able to call you his wife, the consequences that loomed over his career seemed a little more severe. He’d been warned against marriage several times, but as Minho so often did, he once again chose not to listen.

He always knew the company were going to be far from impressed, but not once did he let that could your judgement, unlike you, who could think of nothing else.

Your fears of what was to come weren’t subtle, the way you couldn’t sit still in your chair quickly caught Minho’s attention. “It’s going to be alright, what’s the worst that could happen?” He smiled across to you.

“Do you have any idea how guilty I feel about all of this?”

“I don’t see why,” he stated, squeezing gently against your leg. “We followed our hearts, and for once we decided to do things our way. If they can’t accept that, then it sounds like they’re issue, not ours.”

Your head shook at how calm he was about the whole situation, “you were told no, and yet we did it anyway. Weren’t you always the one that said they take rule breaks seriously, who knows what could happen?”

“They’re not going to do anything too serious,” he confidently assured you, “they’d be stupid to punish us, or me, too much. I’m far too valuable to this company right now to just get rid of.”

Your eyes rolled as he yet again showed off his carefree attitude that he wore proudly. “It’s not just that, but what if they decide that we can’t be together. There’s your contract, the other guys, they could do anything.”

Minho knew he was never going to walk happily by your side forever, especially when his position at your side was frowned upon by those in higher positions. But he didn’t let that deter from the fact he loved you, however they wanted to treat it.

“I know that you’re worried, mainly for me, and I appreciate that. But we made this decision together, and do I regret it? Not at all. If I was scared about work, or management, I would have never agreed to runaway with you and get married. They don’t scare me, and the last thing I want is for them to scare you either.”

“But they can’t do anything to me, but to you, they could make you walk away. If I hadn’t suggested running away in the first place then we wouldn’t be married right now, and you wouldn’t be sat here about to face your boss and justify your role in the company.”

Despite nodding his head, the company was still of little interest to Minho. He had the career, and plenty to fall back on, but none of that meant anything if he didn’t have you there with him.

To begin with, you thought his relaxed state was just a front, but as you sat with him for longer and listened to the things he said, you knew it was Minho sat in front of you. The Minho that did what he wanted, not caring for other people’s negativity surrounding him.

“I don’t have to justify anything to anyone,” he reminded you, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing against the back of it. “The only person I justify my actions to, is myself.”

“Is that enough?” You openly asked, turning your body inwards to face him. “Are you going to wake up one day and regret marrying me because of the effect that it could have in your career.”

Minho failed to respond to you, instantly settling alight a panic inside of you. He’d always promised you forever, but he’d promised the group, and the company forever too. When push came to shove, were you really enough to be the one that he’d hold onto?

“Answer me,” you whispered as his eyes began to stare off into the distance.

“I would never regret marrying you,” he smiled, intertwining his hand tighter with yours. “I wake up every day on top of the world because I’m married to you, my career is great, but being with you, that’s the only thing that I want, permanently.”

The sincerity in his eyes brought a small smile to your face, but that was quickly removed when you spotted one of the managers walking into the boardroom, unable to even bring their eyes down the corridor to look at you both.

“What happens if worse case scenario comes true today?” You asked, keen to know where the two of you would find yourselves standing.

Whilst it was difficult for Minho to really judge where he would find himself at the end of the day, if there was one constant, he was sure of, it was that you would still be by his side.

“Worst case scenario, we still have each other,” he chuckled, tapping the pad of his finger against the ring that you wore. “Best case scenario, the company realise that I’m not giving up on you, or our marriage.”

“Do you really think that’ll happen?”

He could only shrug back at you, unsure of what any of the company would think. He’d given them his word, and blown it, the trust was gone. Minho could only hope that the evident love between the two of you would be enough to swing things in your favour.

“Surely someone has done something worse than this,” you joked.

His head nodded, recalling one particular event he watched unfold just a few months ago. “Do you see now why I told you these contracts are stupid all those years ago?”

“I’m beginning to understand it a little better now. But is it really a crime for someone to be happy, why can’t they see you’re willing to love and to work just as hard still?” You quizzed.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to prove today,” he smiled once again, “I’m going to show them that running away and getting married was the best thing to happen to us, and the best thing to ever happen to my career too.”

You leant into his side, resting your head against his shoulder. “I’m really sorry Minho that it ended up coming to this, if I knew we’d find ourselves in this position, I would have done things so differently.”

“Why? We did what felt right for us, and we’re all the happier for it. We have to make sure that we stand on our own two feet?”

“But what happens if we fall today?”

“Then we still stand with each other, that’s all that matters.”

---

Masterlist

[ddarker-dreams]

New Oath. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

warnings: isolation, food mention, unhealthy relationships, implied not sfw, not sfw dialogue and beginning of stockholm syndrome.   word count: 3k.

It feels easier to live a life without regrets.

To know that every opportunity that presents itself had been taken, is a justification that you maintain to keep your sanity intact. This life that you’ve been forced to live -- one that has clipped your wings -- denying all forms of freedom. Every aspect of the day revolves around survival, nothing else. You’ve tried different methods of overcoming with varying results. The most prominent being escape, or working towards one. 

No person was meant to be secluded in an environment like this. Not even taking into account that lack of socialization that’d be enough to drive anyone mad, but the one person you get to speak to is a pain in his own right. Speaking to a brick wall is more inviting a concept than holding a conversation with Dabi. At least a brick wall remains quiet, not trying to provoke you for a reaction. You don’t know how much longer you can maintain your cool around him.

Looking from the decaying state of the ceiling to the walls around you, which are in even worse condition. This apartment building is definitely violating some building codes. Cheap paint peels off the wall from the slightest humidity, the ceiling fan creaks with every pained turn, and the lone light bulb in the room has been prone to flicker. While you aren’t sure what Dabi’s salary might be, you infer it must be enough to live in a place better than this. A semi abandoned apartment complex with dogs barking at unholy hours of the morning, and sirens going off just as often. If you were to guess on why he chose such a seedy residence, it’s because of the advantages it brings. Any screams for help will go ignored here, as they’re commonplace. 

You’ve had lots of time to reflect. It feels like the world is against you, nothing ever going according to plan. The hours spent revising and considering every variable were for naught in the end. It felt like for each step forward, Dabi would be another two paces ahead. You had considered the fire escape, only to find the bars singed. The windows were a no go, having been fastened so tightly a tool set is necessary to undo the screws. He thought of everything when he decided to hold you captive. This might be enough to drive anyone to the brinks of despair, but not you. You continue preparing, looking for an opening, and acting accordingly. 

You don’t want to lose to someone like him.

Dabi is human, and humans are fallible. One day, in the near future, he might make a mistake. Forget to lock one of the many latches on the door, or ignore a hole in the wall that could soon crumble to sweet freedom. You tell yourself this, not sure if you even fully believe it anymore. You long to have that hope. The hope that this nightmare may yet come to a favorable ending, that you could pry your life back from his vice like grip. Even if it meant breaking your own moral code, resorting to the lowest of tactics… what he had done to you is far worse. This is the drive that drove you to strategize for weeks on end.

Just to fail, like all the times before.

Your lift your arms, grimacing at the sensation of cold metal around your wrists. The punishment for your latest transgressions against Dabi. Everything had been going so well -- too well, now that you’ve had time to think on it -- only to blow up on your face. Weeks of batting your eyelashes at him, playing the role of a perfect, enamored partner went down the drain in a flash. You click your tongue, recalling with disdain how smug he had looked. That’s what got to you the most. Getting underneath your skin and festering with all your other negative feelings for him. 

He knew what you were planning, for god knows how long, and just wanted to see how much you could pull off. Treating it like a mere game. Dabi let you taste coveted freedom, observing from the shadows with intrigue. When your feet had hit the ground, everything felt right with the world once again. You had been held prisoner to the four walls of Dabi’s apartment for what must’ve been months, each day more miserable than the last. You remember the fresh air that swelled into your lungs. The rush of adrenaline that had every nerve on high alert. How your eyes had stung, and threatened to spill over with tears of joy. Nothing could compare to the high from that moment.

It wasn’t a lovely area. At the time, you had still been situated in an alleyway; surrounded by animal carcasses and unsavory items. None of that had mattered at the time. All that mattered is that you could run, far away from his condescending words and threatening presence. You could finally run back to the life that was stolen from you. A supposed light at the end of the tunnel. Nothing in life is that easy, you think in the present. Nothing that involves Dabi is that easy.

There had been a feeling in you gut that eyes were following your every movement. A premonition that came true, and horror in the flesh made his appearance. He had clapped, and expressed how impressed he was with your valiant plan. Dabi cooed at how adorable the sight was, that he had watched you scramble to get everything done in secret. He complimented you on the tact necessary to pull it off. Then his demeanor changed, to something far too sinister to be human. Maybe it was betrayal, or offense at the audacity displayed in going behind his back. Whatever it was that clouded his eyes, you pray you never have to see it again.

Which leads you to the present. 

What you wouldn’t give for some pain killers, even over the counter would do. Anything to dull this pain in your back from sleeping on a spring mattress for days on end. Even this was a luxury that you had to earn through demeaning acts. When Dabi first threw you in this grimy room, the concrete floor was all that you had to sleep on. Through some coquettish speech and unbuckling of pants, you had earned this mattress on which you currently sits. You never thought you’d be missing the dingy, shared bedroom with Dabi until it was taken from you and replaced with something worse. There’s no way of knowing for certain how much longer this punishment will last. From the lack of windows in this room, you can’t even know the time that has passed since the punishment began. It can’t be more than a few days, you thinks. How much longer will you be held here…?

Eyelashes flutter shut, figuring that sleep is a solid way to pass the time. There’s nothing to do until Dabi decides to make an appearance. Gauging from how hungry you’re feeling, it’s been around five or six hours since he last showed up, bringing food with him. Your attempt at sleep is interrupted at the distinct sound of footsteps approaching. So your guess was on the mark. You listens carefully, no detail to be overlooked. There’s a click from unlocking. Then four more after it. So he’s placed that many locks on the door? Seeing as you’re not even able to move an inch with these restraints, you find the precautions excessive. Not even a master escape artist could get out of this. It’s nice to know he thinks you so resourceful.

Faint light shines in your room as the door screeches open, revealing your captor. In his scarred hands is a bag of takeout. He offers a nod of the head in acknowledgement to you, shutting the door behind him. It’s impossible for you to ignore the quickening of your pulse in his presence. You collect yourself to the best of your ability, face remaining composed. Will he make another lascivious offer in exchange for more comforts? The fear of the unknown is like a shadow in the night, creeping over and devouring you. There’s no telling what Dabi might do or say. It’s a constant guessing game. You square your shoulders, making a point of looking Dabi in the eye. Maintaining eye contact is a sign of strength.

“What? No thank you for your knight in shining armor?” Dabi inquires, tilting his head. His voice holds a playful lilt that almost makes you roll your eyes. He’s enjoying every second of this. 

“That’s not the role I’d associate with you.” You respond with a dismissive shrug. The two of you always banter like this, seeing who will crack first under the immense pressure. You have found yourself getting used to these encounters. At first, you didn’t find it wise to possibly earn the wrath of your captor with snark, but those feelings have since changed. Now that you’re more familiar with Dabi, the words flow from your tongue with ease. He never makes a point of stopping the behavior. There’s a tension in the air whenever you’re in a room together, that Dabi always instigates. You’re only returning his own energy.

“I was thinking,” he starts with a sharp inhale, taking a seat in front of you on the ground. “You seemed so willing to do what I asked last time. Why not always keep that attitude up, sugar?” 

You raise an eyebrow at the implication of his words. “That depends on you. What’s in it for me?” 

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe getting out of this shithole? Not that you seemed to like my other place much better,” he motions to the derelict room around you to emphasize his point. “Still beats this dump. How ‘bout it?” 

It’s like you predicted. After Dabi got a better taste of you, he can’t help but want to come back for more. You can’t deny the thrill that comes with hooking up with him. There’s a semblance of control, knowing that you can hold something over him. He could theoretically take whatever he desires, yet prefers you give yourself to him willingly, for whatever convoluted reason. It’s difficult to deny the satisfaction from your previous rendezvous. One of the first things Dabi explained to you was that life would be so much easier for the both of you with your compliance. Resentment and pride were roadblocks to this initially. Now you’ve grown weary of all the games and hiding. The sparks of resistance have been methodically snuffed out, and all you want now is a little solace. 

Your reply comes as a surprisingly fast response to you both. “Sounds like a deal. After I eat though.” 

Dabi wasn’t expecting you to be this easy, not after the stunts you’ve pulled. His eyes search, scrutinizing your schooled expression for something hidden beneath the surface. You’re met with distrust, despite him being the one who made the suggestion in the first place. Having sex on an empty stomach doesn’t sound like the best idea. If that’s what it takes to get out of this room, then you’ll  do it. You’ve been waiting for the offer. It doesn’t make you as sick to your stomach as you thought it would, knowing the prize that’ll await after it’s all said and done. Life is a game of adapting, and you’re playing by those rules. The rules that Dabi himself established.

You break the silence yourself, hunger making you impatient. “You did offer me this food, right?” 

“You’re a sharp one, princess. I picked it out for you myself. Hope you like Chinese.” 

He reaches into the bag, shuffling around for the takeout containers. The scent of fried noodles, rice, and chicken fills the air, which piques your attention. It’s by all means a simple meal, and you couldn’t be happier. When you’re as hungry as you are, it might as well be a gourmet buffet. Dabi himself admitted to not being the best chef, so most of your meals have consisted of this quality. Or, on the occasion, he’d let you cook. Partaking in one of your hobbies is a nice distraction that he makes you work for. He’s always such a pain in the ass...

Dabi fiddles with the key ring in his pocket. Looking you in the eye, he gives a sly smile. “You wouldn’t do anything stupid, would you?” 

You look down at your restraints, a result of doing just that. “Me? I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Mm. Let’s hope so. Would hate for you to make me think up yet another punishment.” 

You don’t want to give him the fearful reaction he’s longing for, opting on maintaining your current visage. Lips pursing together, eyes indifferent, and nose upturned to him. Dabi works through the various locks, the shackles falling to the ground as he unlocks each one. He suddenly takes on a more apathetic air. You know better than to take this at a surface level, feeling him observing your every movement. Anything that could be mistaken as a sign of resistance. You decide to act as natural as possible, to mitigate the suspicion. Really, what does he think you’re going to do? Stab him with the plastic fork this meal comes with? A few months ago, you may have given that a shot, but things feel different now. All you’re interested in is regaining your strength. The first step to that is getting rid of this gnawing hunger. 

There are indents in your wrist from where the shackles were. You stretch the sore muscles, and proceed to go for the food.

“Thanks for the food.” You offers a closed mouth smile, using your now freed hands to open up the boxes. You waste no time indulging in the meal. The grin that you’ve grown accustomed to seeing on Dabi’s face is no longer in sight, replaced by thinly veiled distrust. This conversation is oddly normal. A stark contrast to the extreme circumstance, at least enough to perturb him. What makes him on edge or not is none of your concern. You’re complying, as he’s demanded numerous times. Shouldn’t he be over the moon, if anything? To finally get what he wanted, after months of poking and prodding, a subservient version of yourself. Dabi’s the one who molded you into this shape of his own design.

He props up his chin on his knee, watching you devour the meal. “I wasn’t expecting this room to be what did ya in.” 

You swallow a bite of orange chicken, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. You don’t want to entertain Dabi in conversation right now. It takes too much brainpower to keep up with him, Dabi always trying to get you to trip over your words. Ignoring him isn’t one of the cards at your disposal, so you give what you hope to be a satisfactory response.

“If it’s of any comfort, it wasn’t just the room.” 

Dabi hums, keen on gaining more information. “Would you be so sweet as to fill me in?” 

“It’s nothing that interesting. I had lots of time to think, or reflect to be more exact. You said it best. What was it again… something among the lines of, the day I decide to be a ‘good girl’, life will be easier,” you reach for a box of rice next, Dabi handing it to you when it’s too far away. “So, this is me doing that. A novel idea, I know.” 

He can’t help but agree with the statement. “You said it best.” 

Dabi’s budding curiosity must’ve been sated by your word, as he now lets you eat in relative peace. The gears in both your minds are turning. Trying to predict what the other may or may not do. It’s a tedious dance, you having a lot more to lose than him. This is what makes it an uneven match up, Dabi capable of exercising far more power over you, even without putting it on display. You’ve seen enough little details to be wary of him. How the news stories in the morning speak of victims burnt to ash, the occasional spots of blood on his jackets, and suspicious material from his shoes. Whenever you’ve worked up the courage to inquire on the origins of it, he’d offer an unsettling smile and ask if you really want to know. 

Ignorance is bliss. Months of isolation, suffering, and cruelty have left you in a state of latching onto any consolation available. It’s a bittersweet idea that your tormentor is what doubles as an essential distraction. When you’re in a heated embrace with him, bodies sweaty and head in disarray, the rest of the world melts away. As if it never existed in the first place. You can forget about your own loneliness, the tears that would normally stain your cheeks that time of night, and the burning resentment for the one on top. Every touch erases a pain, even if it’s for a moment. Giving into the desires of the flesh has never felt so good. 

“Looks like you’re almost done, babe.” Dabi comments with a wolf-like grin. He crawls towards you, uncaring of the lousy conditions of the room. His hand grasps your cheek, massaging the skin, and moving down to your lips. The coarse pad of his thumb rubs circles into your bottom lip, looking down at you through lidded eyes. If you’re going to let him take what he wants, he couldn’t be happier. The possible ramifications will be considered later. For the time being, he wants to feel you underneath him, months of pent up lust finally gaining an outlet. 

“You shouldn’t be the impatient one,” you can’t help but remark, shivering underneath his touch. “I’m the one who has been locked in a room for days.” 

“You’ve got it all wrong. I've just missed you oh so dearly,” Dabi coos into your ear. His lips part to place open mouth kisses over your bare neck, hands starting to feel you up. “From how you’re responding, it looks like you’ve missed me too. How precious.” 

“Keep dreaming, Dabi.” 

“I don’t have to anymore, now that I can fuck you as much as I want.” 

[diavolosthots]

How about Mammon with a MC that seemed completely disinterested by him and the brothers at first, but when the others treat him badly MC eventually starts to check up on him? Can be romantic or platonic I just want to be nice to him :3c

Y'all know i aint a mammon stan but he DOES deserve LOVE okay here's a little fic

Secret Guardian ( MAMMON x GN!READER)

You didn't truly care about anything going on in the Devildom, especially between the brothers. You were dragged here and told you were to stay here for an entire year and you know what? Lets see it as a little vacation. With demons. In hell.

Honestly it wasnt that bad; Solomon was pretty nice and you naturally leaned toward the angels and their brightness. RAD was easier than you thought it would be and the random lunches you'd have with Lord Diavolo were usually pretty relaxing. So yeah, overall, it was quite enjoyable.

But those brothers. Honestly if it wasnt for Lucifer being onto everyone's ass, if it wasnt for Satan picking fights, or Leviathan calling you a normie... If it wasnt for all the negativity it would actually almost seem like a family. Mammon was also another topic. Yeah he's a liar and a cheater and honestly needs to fix his attitude, but the constant bullying from his brothers was not any better. Theyre all jerks, in their own way.

Still, you felt bad for the second brother. Everyone deserves to feel loved, especially by the people that he claims are his family. So, after dinner which ended in another bashing of hurtful words toward him, you decided to check on the demon. Surely, you thought, he would appreciate someone checking on him.

Knocking on his door, you heard shuffling and mumbles you couldn't quite make out; it almost sounded like he was trying to hide something. But you didn't have time to think about what before the door opened, "MC? What ya want?" You swallowed a scoff at his words. You were sure he didnt mean to sound that rude. "Can i come in?" The demon was confused but stepped aside, letting you step in.

The room was just like it should be; perfectly true to him. Youve only been in here once and you never got the chance to actually take all of it in. The car and expensive looking furniture just made you chuckle, but the mess it held also showed the mess he was really inside. "So... Ya gonna tell me whatcha want?" You turned to face him, trying to sound as... Noninvasive as possible.

"This may sound... Odd especially coming from me, but I do truly feel bad for you." Mammon's brows furrowed in confusion and he crossed his arms over his chest, "what?" You shrugged, "well... It's not nice to always be bashed... Really, you don't deserve it.."

His look of confusion returned but he uncrossed his arms again and sat down on one of his couches, willing to listen when you decided to continue, "especially by the people you call family." Mammon studied your face, looking for any cruel joke that his brothers might be playing on him, but he finally settled on a sigh, "it's always been like that, MC. Nothing major, im used to it." You plopped down beside him, turning to look at him with a face of anger, but not directed at him, "that's the thing Mammon, you shouldn't be used to it. No one deserves to be bullied like that. Yeah you suck at times; you definitely have your flaws and God you piss me off more than anything every other day of the week..." This time it was him who scoffed, "listen ya aint really doing a good job at cheer--"

"but you're also super fun and you definitely have style. It's never a dull moment with you and no matter how much you piss me off, I would never and could never treat you with such disrespect. You're still a being, with feelings, and what you deserve above all things else is someone who loves and appreciates you, both platonically and romantically."

Mammon looked at you, searching your eyes before leaning closer, his face mere inches from yours, "and ya wanna do that? For a Klutz like me? For the disgrace of the family? Why do ya even care, huh? MC?" You didnt break eye contact with him as you gently took his hand in yours, "because I actually do care about all of you. Because everyone deserves love. And everyone includes you."

His eyes moved between yours, his grip on your hand tightening, and his head falling onto your shoulder, "it's hard sometimes, ya know? ... I don't want them to know how much it gets to me..." You nodded, bringing up your other hand to gently run your fingers through his hair. Mammon leaned into your touch, letting himself break for just a moment, "you don't always have to be strong, Mam..." Mam... It sounded so loving...

He gently pulled his head back, cupping your face between his hands and leaning your forehead against yours, "thank you MC,... It means a lot. "

[starberry-cupcake]

This may be a bizarre subject of discourse to bring up, but let’s talk about Daisy Duck. Or, in other words, about sexism and classic Disney.

I just had the displeasure of reading a comment on a post about Daisy and Donald in the Ducktales reboot, about how Daisy is “actually a bitch” in the comics, etc. (I’m gonna spare you the whole sentence). 

This may blow your entire mind, but characters are fictional. People write them. There is a very clear reason why Daisy Duck has consistently been, with very few exceptions, depicted as several negative stereotypes: she was inherently created within a sexist mindset. It’s insane to me that men talk about Daisy as if an anthropomorphic lady duck was a real person, instead of looking into why the men behind her characterization have, most often than not, had the need to depict women in this fashion. 

Minnie and Daisy were born out of a sexist idea. They were created to be Mickey’s and Donald’s “girlfriends” and “female counterparts”. They weren’t made out of nowhere, like Mickey, Donald, Goofy or Pluto; much like other female characters of Disney’s early universe, they are female “versions” of their male lead counterparts. They were thought as Mickey and Donald with a bow, so to speak. And maybe kind of literally. 

In Minnie’s case, they ended up creating a demure “angel-in-the-house” archetype. Because early on, after criticism on Mickey’s problematic aspects, adult audiences of the 30s wanted Mickey to be less of an asshole and more pure and wholesome as a “role model” for kids. Mickey’s shortcomings started to become something born out of his innocence and honest mistakes, to avoid this perception of him being a “negative role model”. 

So Mickey being always positive, well-intentioned and pure turned Minnie into the “feminine” version of that in most of her depictions, especially from the 20s to the 40s: a lady in distress and, later on, a demure housewife. Minnie cooks, cleans, attends to the house, keeps Mickey down to earth and scolds him when necessary. A very clear example is the 1941 short The Little Whirlwind, in which Minnie requires Mickey’s assistance to work on the garden while she bakes. 

Donald, on the other hand, was the character allowed to go wild. He was referred to as the “problem child” by Walt Disney and he permitted the type of comedy Mickey was not allowed to provide. He was easily angered, violent, prone to physical comedy and sometimes downright a jerk. Which is, probably, why he’s the most featured character in all of Disney, with even more appearances than Mickey or Goofy. 

Even if Donald’s characterization has fluctuated through the years, maybe being the most developed out of all of the classic Disney characters (something possible due to the fact that he was allowed to be flawed), these basic notions are the ones they used as a base to create Daisy in 1940. The feminine version of Donald’s charming wild manliness was, for the 40s mindset of womanhood, a “bitch”. 

Daisy was conceived as a more “refined” female character, because making her a “high maintenance” girlfriend was a prompt to give Donald more “funny moments” in which to fail and get upset. Daisy’s nature, matching Donald’s in attitude, added what they considered a feminine poise and a constant need to try to change him and “better” him, which turned hypocritical when she herself was also quick to anger. Because, women.   

With time, some of Daisy’s characteristics were refined and developed. She became a career woman in instances like Quack Pack and in other instances she has been shown as a fashion designer, in 2018 she had an entire meet and greet centered on her designs for Donald’s Dino Bash, for example. 

Still, for both Minnie and Daisy, some of their early characteristics were never fully gone. 

House of Mouse (which is a really good show, don’t get me wrong) still saw Minnie as a manager for Mickey’s business and Daisy as a diva wanting to shine. The Three Musketeers, which is one of the best trio movies, still had Daisy playing the "hard-to-get” object of Donald’s unrequited attentions until the very end. In the Mickey shorts, Donald and Daisy often show up in opposition to Mickey and Minnie as a couple with issues, like in The Adorable Couple. 

Before Ducktales, Daisy’s last animated appearance was Legend of the Three Caballeros and OH BOY. All the steps forward, albeit minimal, that things like House of Mouse or The Three Musketeers had done with Daisy, this show erased. And it’s a pity, because the show is funny and the Caballeros are fantastic, but Daisy once again becomes the nagging girlfriend with high standards who wants to change her boyfriend and blah blah blah. 

I didn’t know if the Ducktales reboot would be allowed to have Daisy, because the old show did not and they don’t have authorization to use certain characters (seriously people, how would having Mickey in an episode tarnish his image?). 

When I heard she was going to be in season 3, I was hopeful yet hesitant, because things were not going well historically for my girl Daisy. Was she going to be the nagging ex like in Legend? A spotlight-seeking Diva like in HoM? Play “hard to get” as in 3M? 

The answer was: none of the above. Donald and Daisy did not know each other previously. They don’t immediately fall head over heels for each other. Donald isn’t insistently seeking her despite her rejection and she isn’t constantly nagging him despite his attempts to be better. 

They are just two people with similar ways of reacting who, listen to me, respect each other. I was floored.  

Daisy is a designer, much like in previous iterations of her character, and she is bossy around her job because she’s intent of seeing things through and wants to succeed in her field. Donald isn’t immediately taken by her, he gets to know her and sees some of himself in her, as she does, and then they defend each other from those attacking them. 

But the most mind blowing thing in the Ducktales episode was that the key to their relationship so far is...wait for it...communication. 

Donald has been established to have communication issues with his family, not only literally, because he speaks like that, but also because there’s a lot he doesn’t tell others, like when they discovered he was seeing someone about his anger management issues because he wanted to take good care of his nephews after his sister disappeared (how good is this show?). He even struggles sometimes reaching his friends, Panchito and José (although he had a heart-to-heart with Goofy that was pretty sweet). And he fights a lot with Scrooge, especially when both had to pretty much deal with Della’s disappearance in their own distinct ways. 

So Daisy comes in and listens to him. She understands him. And he listens to her. This is HUGE. 

I don’t know how this will be developed, but the fact that Ducktales was able to introduce Daisy in a way that didn’t erase her personality and yet treated her with respect blew my entire mind. 

So, to respond to this person’s comment, maybe it isn’t that “Daisy is actually a bitch”, maybe Daisy is a fictional character who has been consistently written and produced by men with a sexist mindset and it took a reboot that actually gives a damn to give her the foundation necessary for her to be a character that is independent from these outdated ideas. 

[shi-chimera]

Balan Wonderworld headcanons have been rattling around in my head for a while now so I'm just gonna plop them here. Enjoy, don't enjoy, whatever.

◇General◇

-The Balan Theater is MASSIVE and works much like the door in Howl's Moving Castle. Anyone can access it from a number of dilapidated old buildings if they know which ones to look for.

-The theater has at least two dozen rooms, a large restaurant style kitchen, a full bar, and a massive library with window seats, a day bed, and roughly five thousand books at any given time. The books change out at random because the library has a mind of its own.

-Other rooms include Balan and Lance's bedrooms (they live in the theater), Balan's office, and some guest rooms and lounge/living room type spaces. Some of the rooms have flippable floors and sliding walls to convert them into smaller or different rooms.

-The building also has a small rear courtyard with a single, ENORMOUS tree in it. There are also some small flowerbeds and in one corner by the building is a dumpster.

-The theater's porch lights indicate if an exterior door (i.e. an entrance) is active or not. If the lights are on, the doors are open!

♡Balan♡

-Balan feeds off positive emotions and energy. It's part of why he entertains people. Smiling people are happy and happy people keep him going.

-The most extra person you can find, and has a fixation with his appearance. The smallest stain or speck of dirt, loose thread, etc. and he LOSES HIS MIND. He WILL throw an absolute drama queen level spectacle. Everything he does is over the top.

-High energy, so much so that he tends to fidget, pace, or other wise be in constant motion to burn it all off. He's also ambidexterous, but favors his left so you're likely to see him writing paperwork or lifting things with his left hand more often.

-Is an excellent chef and will cook you the most delicious meal you've ever eaten.

-Balan enjoys tea (in a traditional cup and saucer, Earl Grey in particular), but enjoys it more with cookies. If you bring him tea, make yourself a cup too because he will insist you also have one. He will also probably share a cookie with you. Save yourself a headache and just take it. He considers anything he gives you a gift and if you decline or throw it away he will be very upset and assume you don't like him anymore. You can, however, throw away napkins and the like, of course.

-NEVER drops the smile if he can at all help it. He can and will be in emotional distress and you'd never know unless you knew what to look for. Subtle eye movements and shifts in his posture reveal his mood. Will drum his fingers in specific patterns to calm himself down depending on how he's feeling, though you'll almost never see them.

-He only takes off his hat around people he trusts wholely with every fiber of his being. Lance is one of the few. He's quite pretty underneath, with finely swirling gold patterns all over him similar to Lance and a golden heart shape on his forehead (also like Lance).

-He likes wine, especially red wine. He has a high alcohol tolerance. Can and WILL drink you under the table. He gets extra flirty when he's properly drunk, and if you can get him talking he'll definitely lose track of how much he's had. He can phase objects through one another, so you'll frequently see him fill his glass by tipping it against a bottle.

-Likes to play around with a vaudeville hook and will hook Lance out of the ether if they try to phase out of a conversation or if he expressly needs something from them.

-He's HUGE and all the furniture in the theater is sized for humans, and I do mean ALL OF IT, so his lanky ass looks ridiculous sitting on any kind of furniture. There is one exception to this and that is his bed.

-Speaking of, his room is huge and decked out in a red/white/gold/navy color scheme (hmm, I wonder why?). It has wall panels. He has a walk in closet filled to the brim and a large vanity with a mirror edged in lights. It's also MESSY. Piles of clothes, random objects, makeup all over the vanity. The bed is a 3/4 circle, and it wasn't his idea. Lance actually had it put in while Balan was distracted.

-Why did Lance get Balan a new bed? Well, Balan USED TO sleep in a human sized bed, and he sleeps like he's dead. As such, he can and did fall out of bed every night without fail, usually taking a nightstand or other large object out on the way down and not waking up at all. The crashing sounds kept waking Lance up and they had enough of that.

-Threw a hissyfit when Lance got him the new bed without permission. Sleeps splayed out in the "starfish" position, usually tangled up in the sheets like they came alive and tried to strangle him. One or more limbs will usually be hanging over the side, including his head. Doesn't fall out of the new bed NEARLY as often.

-If you fall asleep in the theater, expect to wake up in that bed. He will insist you sleep in comfort, and the bed is big enough for five people so you aren't inconveniencing him in any way by laying in it. He can sleep across from you on the other side, and will sleep still as a statue if you're there.

-Has little to no concept of gender as a whole. He has no biological gender and can be whatever he wants as he feels fit. Accepts any and all pronouns. As such, he doesn't assign gender stereotypes to ANYTHING (clothes, people, objects of any kind) and doesn't understand most human created gender related norms.

-Will frequently call people Darling. If he likes you, will sometimes call you Dear. I.e. "Lance, darling, why are you always like this? Just SMILE!" and "Look at that smile, dear girl! Positively RADIANT!"

-For the LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE LOVE HIM. There is NEVER such a thing as too much affection as far as Balan is concerned. He will PINE for it. Hug him, lean on him, ask him to hold your hand or carry you around. Something, anything! He WANTS as much attention as possible and will come at you like he's more touch starved than Lance. He has ZERO concept of personal space. He will toss you in the air (he will also always catch you, calm down), hold your face, pat you on the head, flat out glomp you, the whole shebang. Unless you clearly state otherwise, he will be all over you ALL THE TIME.

-Rarely if ever gets TRULY upset, and if he does the cracks will start to show. He will pace and rapidly teleport when stressed out, and will sometimes summon doubles without realizing. The doubles can't talk, and mainly just act as stand-ins in shows.

-Always puts the visitors first and will cancel a show if he feels someone is in danger, emotional distress, etc.

-His eyes glow in the dark, and the pupils get narrower instead of smaller (kinda like a cat). His dreads are also prehensile (they can be moved at will) and he has a set of four back tendrils like Lance. He never shows them unless absolutely neccessary or for intimidation. They're curled up like little nubbins on his back, under his clothes. They're extremely sensitive and are actually feelers that let him read the energy in a room so he can react accordingly.

-He DOES have casual clothes, usually semiformal (button up shirts, suit vests, etc.) and will pull his dreads back out of his face when his hat is off.

-He enjoys witty banter, and will have a "banter battle" with anyone willing, Lance unwillingly included. Annoying Lance is actually one of his favorite pasttimes. He's kinda a lil shit sometimes.

-Is literally millenia old and has been hanging around doing this showbiz thing for ages, just in different ways. Picked up the theater thing when it was immensely popular around Shakespeare's time. He's actually older than Lance, and despite his largely immature attitude, he's actually more emotionally stable.

☆Lance☆

-Angsty lil cinnamon bun.

-Absolutely starved for affection of any kind (Balan doesn't count), and very lonely. Will immediately doubt you/deny/contradict you if you compliment them. Will squirm and make desperation "THEY'RE TOUCHING ME. WHAT DO I DO? I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. BALAN HALP." noises if you show them physical affection. Will also blush profousely.

-Plays the villain role in all the shows, and as a result almost no one likes or acknowledges them. As a whole they tend to be antisocial with very clear touch boundaries (Balan does NOT CARE). Very quiet and serious, and only speaks when absolutely necessary.

-Will NOT sugarcoat things (unless they like you, then expect sugarcoating of unimportant/trivial things). Less than stellar at the whole "emotional comfort" thing. If they like you, will hold you if you ask (especially if you're visibly upset).

-Feeds on negative emotions, meaning they have a more constant energy supply than Balan (though Balan is physically and power-wise stronger). Tends to be emotionally unstable and will get easily fed up/throw a small tantrum when they've had enough. Generally low energy and sleeps/naps often.

-Strictly They/Them pronouns. Also lacks a biological gender like Balan and can be anything they feel like being. Understands human created gender stereotypes and social norms.

-Prefers more feminine clothing. You're more likely to see casual clothes with Lance. They rarely care about other people's opinions on the matter. They prefer comfy, truly casual clothing made of soft cloth. Will always be wearing heels of some kind, though, and usually a scarf. Hair will be pulled back, typically in a messy bun or something similar.

-Does all the repairs and maintinence for the theater, including costume repair (especially if Balan's costume needs it, he will weep LOUDLY until Lance fixes the issue). Not uncommon to see them with their head in a ceiling fixing wiring, etc.

-Will absolutely melt if you stroke/run your fingers through their hair. They find it soothing, and if you pull them to you they'll fall asleep on your lap, against your shoulder, etc.

-Back tendrils are PAINFULLY sensitive, please don't touch without permission.

-Is a terrible cook in all things except desserts and sweets. They excell at all sugary treat making. Also an excellent bartender with a wide knowledge of cocktails.

-Absolute lightweight. Will get drunk off two shots, and is a weepy drunk. Tends to steer clear of drinking alcohol as a result. Enjoys Shirley Temple drinks, and can tie cherry stems into shapes with their tongue. Will cut you off if they think you've had enough booze.

-Impeccable and neat room filled with crystals, candles, incense, and lots of glow in the dark things. Their room has a purple and dark theme with small gold accents and is in general a small room with one window on the left side. Modestly sized canopy bed with plain bedding. Expect to never see this room unless they really adore you. They will know if you've so much as touched the doorknob and they WILL show up immediately to shoo you away.

-Tends to phase through the floor in a puddle of shadows, especially when trying to avoid a conversation. Will flail desperately if Balan pulls them back with his vaudeville hook.

-Lance is a light sleeper and any small sound will usually wake them up. Balan leaves them constantly sleep deprived. Sleeps curled up in a ball with their face snuggled into the comforter.

-If they find you asleep in the theater, they won't move you, but you're likely to wake up with pillows under your head and hips and a blanket tucked over you. They will also fall asleep anywhere and everywhere so if you're drowsy they'll steer you to the best napping spots (the daybed in the library is one of their favorites).

-Will throw stuff at Balan, watch your head.

-Has two sets of upper fangs, one right after the other and the second set is smaller than the first set, and one set of bottom fangs. Will rarely if ever smile, and is hesitant to be happy around you if they like you. NO ONE likes them, and if YOU like them you're the only one so they don't want to scare you off.

-They are remarkably gentle (despite being constantly cast as the villain), and tend to move more gracefully than Balan. Excellent at the Waltz and Tango, though they don't dance often.

-Eyes ALSO glow in the dark, and the pupils are slitted like a cat. They get huge and round if something catches Lance's attention.