#those are words I never thought I'd say | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aromantic-pantyanarchy · 6 months

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It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.

#aromantic #aro #aro positivity #reference to aphobia

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hemmingsleclerc · 3 months

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My Husband ┃CS55

summary: Y/N attends her husband's home race but didn't expect to find the "popular" girl at her high school back in the day.

The sun was seen over the Barcelona-Catalunya Circuit while the Spanish Grand Prix was taking place. Y/N, dressed in an elegant yet casual dress that perfectly combined glamor and comfort, strolled through the paddock with an air of confidence. Her husband, Carlos, was focused on preparations for the next race, leaving her free to immerse herself in the exciting atmosphere.

As she toured the different garages and hospitality areas, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of nostalgia. The roar of the engines brought back memories of her teenager's years when she would never have imagined being there in the paddock. Yet here she was, the wife of one of the sport's most talented drivers.

The familiar murmur of voices interrupted her thoughts and she turned to see a group of people approaching her. Among them was a face from her past: a girl named Carla, who was once the queen bee of her high school. Carla's eyes widened in false surprise when she saw Y/N there.

"Well, well, if it's not little Y/N," Carla sneered, her tone full of mockery. "What brings you to the Spanish Grand Prix? Trying to catch a glimpse of the rich and famous?"

Y/N smiled, refusing to let Carla's comments get to her. "Oh, you know, I've always been an F1 fan. I thought I'd come and support my husband."

''Husband?, so after all you did get a boyfriend?, what a wonderful surprise!''

''Yes, yes I did Carla'' Y/N responded, avoiding the urge to roll her eyes.

Carla smiled and looked at her boyfriend, who was next to her. "Well, we're here because my boyfriend is a big fan. You probably know him, he was with us at school! In fact, today he met all the drivers. It's a dream come true for him."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, recognizing the familiar pattern of Carla trying to outdo her in any situation. "That's fantastic for him. I'm sure meeting the drivers was an unforgettable experience."

''So, is this your first race?''

''In fact no, I have attended several grand prix, although it's probably your first time, so enjoy it Carla!'' And just as she finished saying those words she turned around and walked away from that irritating situation.

The race came to life and Y/N continued to enjoy the event, doing her best to ignore the presence of her ''wonderful'' former high school classmates.

As the checkered flag waved, signaling the end of the race, Y/N once again found herself in the path of Carla and her boyfriend.

"Well, well, you again” Carla said with a forced smile. "Did you have fun watching the race, sweetie?"

Y/N sighed inwardly but maintained her composure. "Yes, it was thrilling. Excuse me, I need to find Carlos."

As she tried to walk away, Carla's boyfriend, Y/N's old crush from high school, stepped forward, trying to strike up a conversation with her. Y/N felt a wave of discomfort but remained polite. All she wanted to do was go to her husband and congratulate him on his incredible podium finish in the race.

Suddenly, the crowd around them buzzed with excitement as Carlos Sainz approached, his red racing suit adorned with sponsor logos. Carla and her boyfriend exchanged surprised glances.

"Carlos Sainz!" Carla exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Y/N couldn't help but smile triumphantly. "Oh, I didn't mention it before? He's Carlos, my husband, sweetie."

Carlos, oblivious to the tension, politely greeted Carla and her boyfriend. When they noticed, Carla's forced smile faltered and Y/N took the opportunity to gracefully exit the conversation. She walked away from her, leaving behind a speechless Carla and a bewildered old lover.

''Thank God you showed up, I couldn't stand them for another minute''

''You okey mi amor?''

''I'll be better after the celebration for your great podium, cariño''

With their heads held high, Y/N and Carlos walked out holding hands, along with the shiny trophy, ready to have a great night.

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euniexenoblade · 4 months

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since we're talking about call outs lately, i've been called out many times, most of which are made from lies and sometimes by altering screenshots, but the most effective call out i ever got was like, in early 2015 there was a tumblr user everyone knew was a terf, but she would say "actually i support trans women" this was before crypto terfs were as talked about so the language wasn't really there to say "hey this person is a crypto terf." but yeah some people put posts of this woman on my dash and i made a random post on my blog "why do yall reblog her shes a terf" and of course she searches her own name daily, found my post, and replied to it that me calling her a terf was racist. that was it. no other interaction. but she went on all night talking about me being racist and just making things up as she went "oh i bet she says the n word all the time irl" kind of shit that had, like no basis? But her follower base took it 100% and i literally had thousands of anons telling me to kill myself, trying to goad me into being racist (didnt work), and the most concerning thing was i got hundreds of anons being like "what was the point of doing hrt if you still look like that, you should kill yourself." It was like, violent and overwhelming. and on top of it I'd get random young teenager trans people who followed her and bought into her bioessentialism showing up in my messages being like "you give trans people a bad name" "you're why transphobia exists" etc etc it was fucking crazy.

but i lost like, no followers because everyone around me understood, this woman was a terf. this all set up the real one though.

later in the year a teenage "communist" trans girl made some snarky comment about me being racist on a post of mine blowing up. i ignored her cuz like, who cares it's just some random teenager. but i guess people were looking for a reason to hate me cuz that blew up, lots of people just took that at face value no need to investigate. when someone finally did send the girl an ask being like "hey how is she racist" she replied "I dont remember but I know she is" and even more people just took this as 100%. the thing is, i do remember her being one of those "you make trans people look bad" terf following young trans people, it's not that she didn't remember, it's that she didnt want to admit she followed a terf and she believed a terf just saying shit. I lost like 3/4s of my followers, i had a lot of people i thought were my friends just stop talking to me, and going forward every time i got a call out there would usually be a line of like "also she's racist, everyone already knows this" all cuz this girl needed to make a snarky comment cuz she just loves terfs.

the thing about the "i dont remember" bit is it made some weird game of telephone. "I dont remember" became "oh she's racist, i think she says the n word" which became "she called black bloggers the n word" like people just made shit up about me and connected it to this call out. and when id be like this isnt true id be met with a "this is just known, youre a known racist" and it's like, to this day i will still find people be like "hey good on you for growing as a person and not doing that any more" and its like I NEVER DID IT TO BEGIN WITH

#ranting

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dollopheadsandclotpoles · 9 months

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I'm a bit tired of people calling asexuality 'not a big deal.'

Here's the thing, I never thought it was a big deal either. I didn't have a big angsty coming out about being aro or being ace. It was difficult in a sense to think of the future I'd imagined for myself not coming true, but I didn't mourn that future. I was happy that there were others out there feeling what I was feeling and going through what I was going through.

But it's become a big deal. It's become a big deal because as I have grown older, I have realised the future is still fucking blurry. I have no idea what to expect from it. Society was not built for those who do not or cannot follow its rules. I've realised just how MUCH people say aphobic stuff on a daily basis. I feel constantly othered by comments that carelessly remind us we are out of the majority. That remind us again and again that we are NOT the norm and will never BE the norm. I rarely see myself on TV and in books and in movies. People feel weird about it, so they just never bring it up like an unspoken secret. I'm constantly doubted and told I'm mistaken about my own identity, which causes anxiety and self doubt so many years later. People make a variety of assumptions about me and tell me it's 'sad' and I'm 'missing out.'

It's not just about 'not having sex.' It's about feeling like you're the only one at a concert that doesn't know the words. it about society making you feel like you're just a little bit off. My sexuality/romantic identity doesn't define me. I don't WANT it to be a big deal.

But it is. It is a big deal because all of you make it a big deal.

#i've heard this from lgbtq allos and from young aspecs alike and i'm just tired and needed to vent #asexual #aromantic #ace #aro #aroace #asexuality #aromanticism #aro stuff #ace stuff #aroace tag

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fangisms · 8 months

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hiii i loved „spring breaks loose”!!🤍 could i request another something for theodore, where the reader is quite bubbly and loves talking and he, the quiet guy he is, just likes to listen? and maybe the reader is worried that she talks too much and it could be annoying to him but he’s just so in love that he’s obsessed with all her rabling😭😭 sorry if thats too specific

darling socialite

A/N: um i love this because if someone let me chat their ear off, i would fall in love. i love a chatter and i love a listener 🩷 gif creds: @perfectlyfuckingcivils

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are talkative as all hell, and Theo has dubbed himself your devoted listener. 1.3k words

Warnings: i be cursing, fluff, mild self-consciousness, two dummies in LOVE, mattheo being a perv (boy moment), kissing…, pansy being a slight bitch (lovingly)

Everyday, you look forward to telling Theo anything and everything. Sometimes, you'll get so excited to tell him something that you'll jot it down on the nearest surface. Most of the time, that surface is your hand. Who can blame you; you can't resist the gory details.

Everyday, Theo looks forward to hearing anything and everything from you. You're his favorite news source, his sweetest messenger, his darling socialite, and he is your devoted subscriber. He's worried one day you'll run out of things to tell him, but according to the ink splotches across your skin, there's a slim chance that'll happen.

"Hi, teddy!" you chirp, and he turns to welcome you into the seat beside him. "You will not believe what I saw in the courtyard on my way here: a willow tit!"

Mattheo chokes on a gulp of juice, sputtering in his seat and looking over at you. "Pardon?"

"Don't be crude, Matty. I'm talking about birds."

"Yeah, I got that, I just never realized you’re playing for the other team—"

"Mattheo!" you holler, glaring at him in utter disbelief, "you complete idiot! Birds, as in real birds. As in those things that fly around and chirp and eat berries!"

"Let me get this straight, we're not talking about some bird's tits? Suddenly, I'm uninterested," he says, earning a pointed glare from Theo.

"Anyway," you say, rolling your eyes and facing Theo, "You hardly see them anymore, they're very rare, but I saw one, and it was the cutest creature I've ever seen on campus! It was so round, I could have died. He must've liked all the rain we got over the weekend. I hope he survives the winter and has lots of little tit babies in the spring!"

Theo could not be more head over heels for you while you babble about round tits and babies. He thinks if he ever opens his mouth to respond, he’ll screw it up in an instant. Thank Merlin, he's naturally quiet and content to listen to you all day. And thank Merlin, you never ask for anything more from him.

If only you knew how much he truly adores you and your ramblings. He holds your company in his highest regard and considers every time you choose him a blessing.

You never think too much of Theo's tight-lippedness. You figure if he was completely sick of it, he'd just get up and walk away. Or maybe that's not like him, and maybe you are a bother.

It doesn't help when Pansy skips up to you in the hall and says, "I'm really impressed you're able to hold Theo's attention as long as you do."

"What are you talking about, P?" you say.

"Well... don't you ever worry he's, like... bored with you? I mean, when was the last time he actually contributed to your 'conversations'. I just don't want you to get your hopes up, you know?" —she shrugs it off like it's not an unforgivable curse to the gut—"If I were you, I'd find a more attentive playmate. You can always talk to me!"

"Thanks, Pansy," you say.

"Just looking out for a friend! See ya!"

You nod and wait by the bottom of the stairs as she hops her way up. You didn't think you were getting your hopes up, necessarily. You thought Theo was just a good listener. And sure, he's not super responsive, but he's just shy. That's not his fault.

…

There's a rapping of knuckles at the door, and Mattheo hurdles his bed and reaches for the knob.

"Why, good evening, dearest birdwatcher"—Theo perks up from where he's rifling through his trunk.

"I could say the same to you, perv," you tease, "Is Theo around? I need—"

"To talk to him? Figures. He's just hiding his softcore stash—"

"Shut up!" Theo hollers, popping up and hurrying to the door, a little flushed to find you looking at him, "he's just joking."

Mattheo chuckles, "No, he's right, Theo would never have so much fun"—he dodges the jab to his side—"Alright, I'll leave you two lovebirds to your tits and whatnot. Try not to make too much noise, we have downstairs neighbors." He winks and makes his way down the boys dormitories stairwell.

And suddenly, Theo can't remember the last time he was truly alone with you. No onlookers or eavesdroppers, no Pansy and no Mattheo. Just the two of you. His sweaty palms and your rapid heartbeat.

"I need to ask you something," you finally blurt. He looked so nervous you thought he might throw up over the railing, so you put him out of his misery before he has the chance.

"Yes, yeah, anything," he huffs.

"Well," you say, "I was thinking—just... ruminating, really, because it was suggested that I bore you with my chattiness"—you cross your arms over your chest and look to the floor—"and not that I'm begging for pity or even a response, I just wanted to know how you feel because I realized maybe I don't ask about you enough. You know, like I'm always worried about me, or something, but I do worry about you, too! I just wasn't sure if that's something—if you maybe wanted to talk about it more. Because I can be a good listener! I'd be happy to hear whatever you have to say!"

Theo leans his shoulder against the doorframe, adjusting the bottom of his sweater as it clings to his hips. How could he let you believe you're too much for him. How could he let you believe yourself to be some kind of social burden to him. All because he'd much rather listen to you than contribute his own two cents.

"See! Merlin, even now, I've just talked your ear off while trying to apologize for constantly talking your ear off! And I haven't even apologized, yet! I'm so sorry, Theo, I know it's a problem, and I didn't mean to take advantage of your politeness."

You scuff your sole on the landing with a whine, and he leans to the side to watch you look over the edge. It's so quiet for a moment, he can hear your soft breathing if he focuses on it.

"It's not a problem," Theo says. You look over, lips parted at the smug look on his face. "And if I was the one who suggested otherwise, I couldn't be more apologetic."

It makes you smile. He's just said two very thoughtful things to you. Out loud. To your face. You could crumble.

"No! No, teddy, it wasn't you, it was... doesn't matter. You really don't mind?"

He shakes his head, a little amused, honestly. How could he mind? You’re the greatest thing since dark chocolate, and he’d still give that up. You’d go just as well with his afternoon tea.

“Well, then,” you huff, warmer under his gaze, determined to get this damned apology across.

“Alright,” Theo says. Apology accepted. Apology not even necessary. But still accepted.

“Okay. But next time you catch me rambling, you better just shut me up! Tell me to ‘shush’ or something! It’s a problem, and I give you full permission to—”

He kisses you. He leans down, smug with his fingers under your chin, and he kisses you! Shuts you right up like you’re still some gullible first year completely wooed by his boyish charms! Oh, but he’s kissing you very sweetly. And when your knees go a tad wobbly, he rushes to cradle your elbow.

“Like that?” he says.

“That’s no way to treat a lady, Theodore. You should be completely ashamed of yourself for ever thinkin—”

He kisses you again. More sure and much quicker. Like a reflex. A knee jerk reaction without the kneeing or the jerking. Just his stupidly soft lips.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “that works… but you can’t just kiss me every time you want to shut me up.”

“No”—he pecks your lips, fingers gentle at your cheek—“I plan on kissing you much more often than that.”

masterlist

#theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott fluff #theodore nott fluff #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #fluff #fanfic #hp universe #x reader #fanfiction #x female reader #x fem!reader #theo nott x fem!reader #friends to lovers

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muntitled · 8 months

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𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧

→ Mingyu x Fem!reader

→ Summary: "If you wanted me to get you pregnant so bad, all you had to was ask."

→ Warnings: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Businessman au, Humour, Slight!Body Dysmorphia, Insecurities, Workaholic!Reader, Shy!Reader, Slight Male Manipulation, Slight!Angst, Smut (+18), Semi!Public Sex, Slight Coercion, Needy!Mingyu, He Whimpers, Pervy!Mingyu, Corruption Kink, Desperate Sex, Massive Breeding kink, Mingyu has a choking kink, and a Praise kink, Slight!Daddy Kink, Unprotected Sex

Mingyu likes getting choked, pls argue with the wall

The dollop of heat in your stomach steadily grew into a pool of molten lava throughout the duration of the award ceremony. The entire televised event was supposed to be in celebration of your husband and the diligence he has extended to the company for all of 2 decades.

Instead, most of the evening is spent nursing your anxiety with a flute of champagne, while you attempt to not sweat through your very expensive makeup under the heat of multiple strobe lights.

Mingyu, sitting at the table beside you serves as your only anchor, keeping your feet planted firmly to the ground while the rest of the table exchange pleasantries involving baby pictures and ultrasounds.

The dread in your stomach only multiplies.

You've been made privy to how they speak about you and your husband behind gloved hands in hushed whispers. A husband who has had to be burdened with a wife whose internal clock was no match for the importance of a career. Perhaps they thought you were too self important and too driven. Perhaps that explains why you were always invited to events out of courtesy and never out of true interest. Perhaps-

"Stop that." Mingyu's voice travels to your ear at a low and conspiratorial baritone while the rest of wives and husband at the table talk animatedly.

"Stop what?" You ask while Mingyu draws your attention to his hand now resting on your thigh underneath the table.

"Don't play with me. I can tell when you're overthinking," He says, letting his palm brush over the sequins of your pitch black dress. It matched his all black suit to rude perfection, truly making you believe you were the best dressed couple in the whole event. "If you're gonna be thinking about something, I'd rather it be the likelihood of me eating you out in this dress after we're done."

His words succeed in dragging your thoughts away from the happy couples and their happy families and you meet his eyes and the amusement swimming within them.

"Is sex really all you think about-"

Mingyu answers your question by suddenly grabbing a hold of your hand and forcing your palm over his lap until your palm is lightly grazing the bulge forming there.

"Let's hope this ends soon so we can get the fuck out of here." The rest of the event was spent with you, staring down at the table in a mindless, lustful daze while Mingyu still guided your palm up and down the bulge in his pants. It was conspicuous enough for it to look like his hand was simply resting atop yours, if anyone really got particularly nosy. Luckily, everyone else was too drunk on overpriced soju to recognize Mingyu's forced self pleasuring while he took casual little sips from his glass intermittently.

You were both relieved once it was time to go home.

This inability to adapt into the upper echelons of housewife society had not bothered you initially and it certainly did not bother your husband. In fact, someone as aloof and optimistic as Mingyu was seldom concerned with the matters of holding face for a backwards capitalistic society.

"If we weren't rich I thoroughly believe we would be those 'eat the rich' people." Mingyu announces as he trails into the bathroom behind you. The overhead lights bathe the bathroom's onyx accents in a dim light, successfully relaxing you and easing the bundle of knots that had built up in your shoulders.

Mingyu seems equally pleased to be back home, kicking off his Abercrombie loafers and watching them fly into a corner while he undoes the buttons of his jet black dress shirt. His tall frame is hunched over as he wraps his arms around your stomach, allowing you to lead him to the bathroom sinks with heavy footsteps like a 187 centimetre baby.

You, of course, do not object when he pushes his head into the space between your neck and shoulder as you begin to brush your teeth. If the award ceremony was as draining for him as it was for you, then this truly is the first moment he is able to let himself go the entire day.

"I think we can still be those 'eat the rich' people because it's not like we're rich by choice, right?" Seeing your husband constantly run the risk of impending communism would be amusing, were it not for the sour taste still present in your mouth from the work event Mingyu had just taken you too.

"At least you got to watch me in my element-" He grumbles against your skin before begrudgingly peeling himself off of you to make his way to his side of the bathroom,

"Ugh," Mingyu groans with exaggeration as he commences with his skin care, "You literally got to watch your sexy and talented husband accept a corporate award in a room full of people. I'm so jealous of you,"

"Ugh, I know!" You nod back, "Jihoon looked so good on that podium. Remind me to send him a message later." You evade Mingyu's deadpan look through the oval shaped mirror as you continue to brush.

"On a serious note, Gyu, I'm glad you had fun while I was being forced to entertain those industry housewives." You momentarily stop your brushing, "I'm thoroughly overwhelmed by ultrasounds!" You exclaim frustratedly through a gurgle of toothpaste. The very thought of those women shot your blood pressure to hell.

Their idealistic lives and their idealistic vaginas that could somehow push out a steady stream of babies before snapping back as if nothing ever happened. Business as usual.

Meanwhile, your body threw a tantrum the very second you even had a vague thought of eating something outside the bounds of your diet.

Mingyu adored every part of you - you know this - but that nauseating feeling of inadequacy always crept up on you in moments of weakness.

You sigh, "I think those women have magical vaginas."

"Hey." Mingyu says, patting down his face, "All women have magical vaginas but you especially."

You swiftly ignore him and continue your furious brushing as you say, "Every single day it's 'This one is pregnant!' 'This one wants to get pregnant,' 'This one is trying to get pregnant!'" You rant, completely oblivious to the way Mingyu watches you through the mirror as you continue.

"'I'm not quite sure when it became socially accessible for couples to just air out their breeding kinks to the public-" an ungentlemanly snort escapes through Mingyu's mouth and he pauses to shake his head and compose himself.

"I'm ultra-sounded out!" You exclaim, finally bending over to spit out a wad of toothpaste. In your periphery, Mingyu watches you with that passive look of contentment and unwavering adoration that almost never seems to leave his face in your presence.

Despite his overly humorous tendencies at times, Mingyu also harboured the habit of reading in between the lines - he had to, not only for his job but for his romantic life as well. Being blessed with a shy partner meant Mingyu had to dig just a little deeper past the veneer of everything you say, to get just a little closer to what you actually meant.

Your shyness and stoicism is what initially drew him to you in the first place. Always beating around the proverbial bush to protect your most sacred dignity and independence. It was always a struggle for Mingyu but it turned him on way too easily to picture his put-together, independent little wife needing him in a way she might not even know.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask quietly, lifting your head before reigning your braids into a ponytail.

"How am I looking at you?" Mingyu asks in a voice way too husky to harbour any sense of professionalism.

"Are you seriously turned on right now?" There is no use in denying it because Mingyu knew you could read him like an open book. There's a soberness that hits him when he's turned on.

He jokes less than usual and assumes a more… slutty disposition that neither him nor you have ever been able to tame. Mingyu rubs the excess cream into his hands before leaning against the marble countertops. He watches you with a small, dangerous smirk that sends a flurry of butterflies swimming the pits of your stomach.

"If you wanted me to get you pregnant so badly, all you had to do was ask." His sentence bulldozes through the silence, steals the air right out of your lungs and nearly sweeps your feet out from underneath you. The world practically spins for a second but you grapple desperately onto your sensibilities for your sensibilities are one of the very few things you can arm yourself against your husband's slutty seduction.

"I think I could've squeezed you into my busy schedule," He chuckles lightly before stepping forward.

Almost automatically you step backwards, which evidently gets Mingyu way too excited. He raises his eyebrows with a slight before he's closing the distance between the two of you with 2 wide strides.

The light pouring down from the ceiling suddenly feels too warm, and the air feels like you've teleported to a crowded bazaar in the centre of the desert. You refuse to make eye contact with Mingyu, looming over you. You only splay a hand against his chest as you attempt to chuckle.

"You're being ridiculous." You say, "If you need to cum so bad, use your hand."

"Nah," He shakes his head without ever breaking eye contact, "That would be a waste, wouldn't it?" Mingyu's eyes frantically search your features for the same traces of lust so shamelessly displayed across his own visage. His lips are parted with his quiet breathing. "Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

It felt like a betrayal on everything you held dear, admitting that the idea of him cumming inside you with the purpose of getting you pregnant turned you on. It felt like a betrayal on your career and your goals and aspirations.

However, Mingyu's sensibilities are completely clouded by unshakeable lust. He is so easily stimulated by every single thing about you, the softness of your body, the familiarity of your scent and the mental image of seeing you actually pregnant with his child. It has him pushing you further against the bathroom wall until the coolness of the stone sank steadily through your night dress.

Mingyu's hand immediately rips the offending article of clothing, pushing your night dress up slowly and feeling his own cock ache at how you silently comply.

"It's really easy, baby. I just need you to tell me you want me to cum in that little pussy of yours and I'll do it. Just wanna…" Mingyu's incoherence during states of exceptional lust always succeeded in making you absolutely wet. He became an insatiable, talkative and blubbering mess.

"...Just wanna make you happy," His breathing picks up almost as easily as yours, and inside himself, Mingyu releases a shotgun prayer that you want this just as bad as he does. He hopes your mind has been flooded with the exact same fantasies of him, sliding his bare cock into your soaking cunt. Him ramming into you and finishing inside of you and-

"Ah- fuck," He hisses, unable to get your panties down all the way before he's letting his fingers drift across your slippery folds. "Look at how wet you are, baby. You really do want me to cum inside your pretty little pussy, don't you?"

Mingyu's cock twitches uncomfortably in his pants while he drifts his fingers over your puffy clit, pulling a strangled moan from your throat.

"Feels good, baby?" He whimpers before slotting his hips between your legs. Mingyu's breath is warm against the side of your face as he continues to rub infuriating circles on your clit. "I can make you feel even better baby… if you let me fuck you, I can make us both feel good, yeah?" He's a whining mess - you both are as your hips move in tandem against his hands.

"Fuck, baby I need you to tell me you want this. I need you to tell me I can throw away the condoms, that I can cum inside you-"

"F-Fuck, Daddy," Your slip-up would've gone perfectly unnoticed, were it not for the heavy, almost oppressive silence between the two of you in the bathroom. Mingyu's ears perk up like a puppy that had just heard his favorite word, and he pulls himself away to gaze deeply into your eyes with adoration and awe. Mingyu's pink lips hang open as he scrambles back up to his height. He cups your cheeks with both hands, and you lean into his warm calluses as his thumbs rub gentle circles on your cheek.

The kiss he leaves on your nose is delicate and romantic.

The perfect calm before the proverbial storm.

Mingyu then nods slowly as he says, "Well now I'm definitely going to fuck you," the conviction and the bass in his voice urges a pathetic whimper through your lips and you're left to comply limply as Mingyu places a palm on your exposed thigh. He lifts you up until your leg is locked firmly around his hip and he's almost perfectly slotted between your bare legs. The feeling of having him so close to you, in such a starkly intimate position leaves you both momentarily speechless and you're watching each other as if terrified of breaking this spell of lust.

Mingyu is deliberate in his actions as he moves his hand to pull his cock out of his pants, all without breaking eye contact.

"Don't play with me like this, baby," it's the most serious he has ever been, and your back is almost moulded to the wall as Mingyu lines the tip of his aching cock to your dripping cunt. "I was literally so close to cumming in my pants, so if you're playing with me right now-"

"Mingyu," your voice is airy as you push your hips forward, taking initiative, as you always did, until the head of his cock was prodding your entrance. He shivers greatly before stealing a glance down at his cock entering you so swiftly, before he gazes deep into your eyes once more.

"If you want me…" Mingyu whispers as he fully sheathes his cock inside you, overcome by yet another violent shiver. "Baby, you have me."

The first thrust is nearly cataclysmic and he has to stop himself from cumming on the spot. Seeing him so incredibly turned on, so ready to burst at the seams has your cunt clenching around him, pulling him deeper and deeper until his gigantic cock was stretching your cunt to what felt like its limits. That second thrust completely drains him of all his composure and soon Mingyu's fucking you relentlessy into the wall as if he both hated you and loved you and did not know which was which.

Your mouth hangs open as you watch him absolutely ravage you. His dark eyes are hooded with lust and he's babbling his incoherent sentences while his long, messy hair brushes over his cheeks. He is absolutely fargone as he thrusts his hips into you, while his other hand is stationed against the wall above you. "Thank you for letting me do this, baby," he damn near whimpers as he pushes himself harder and faster into you, unable to stop the neediness from sinking into his tone. "Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

"You're doing so well baby" You whisper, causing his hips to stutter against yours while a pained moan releases itself from your throat.

Your mouth is still hanging open and Mingyu takes the opportunity to dip down and crash his lips onto yours. The kiss is furious and desperate and you realise this is exactly what you love about him. You appreciate how easy it is to please him, how unashamed Mingyu is of displaying his emotions. He is loud and passionate and it drives you absolutely insane.

"Fuck-I'm close," He breathes, as he peppers kisses along your face. His hand squeezes desperately at your breasts as he pants in your ear. "Tell me to cum inside you- pleasepleaseplease,"

You are operating purely on the lust distributed from Mingyu's incessant whining and whimpering until an idea strikes you so vividly you almost wonder why you had not done this before.

In between your feverish panting and Mingyu's ravaging motions, you delve your head into his hair before peeling his face away from you. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion before you slither your hand down to lock your palm around the his throat. Your hand doesn't fully enclose his neck but you succeed in adding pressure, causing the man before you to roll his eyes into the back of his skull in absolutely ecstasy-

"Oh fuck-I'm cumming-" his body spasms before you in a euphoric daze, quickly triggering your own orgasm as you continue to choke him and move your hips in tandem with his cock.

"Fuck, oh fuck!" He swears as he clamps his hand around your thigh as if begging to spread you wider, to push in deeper until he's filling you up completely with his load. It's messy and so wildly intimate, you're both lost in the crevices of your own respective pleasure. How anyone could make someone feel as completed as you two currently feel is so unimaginable, you both struggle to find the words. Mingyu is a panting mess above you while you attempt to ease your runway heart.

It strikes you then that you're perhaps afraid, now that the lust has cleared that the post nut clarity might rid him of his earlier statements.

All you do is watch as he places another kiss on the tip of your nose before easing his cock out of you.

"I'll run out to buy Plan B tomorrow. You don't have to -"

He shushes you almost immediately as he pads over the bathroom sink. Mingyu hums softly as he ruffles through the medicine cabinet until he finds what he's looking for. All you can do is watch as he dumps the entire contents of your birth control pills down the toilet. He never breaks eye contact, only maintaining a wide slightly manic smile.

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cookinguptales · 1 year

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You know... I had an experience about two months ago that I didn't talk about publicly, but I've been turning it over and over in my mind lately and I guess I'm finally able to put my unease into words.

So there's a podcast I'd been enjoying and right after I got caught up, they announced that they were planning on doing a live show. It's gonna be near me and on the day before my birthday and I thought -- hey, it's fate.

But... as many of you know, I'm disabled. For me, getting to a show like that has a lot of steps. One of those steps involved emailing the podcasters to ask about accessibility for the venue.

The response I got back was very quick and very brief. Essentially, it told me to contact the venue because they had no idea if it was accessible or not.

It was a bucket of cold water, and I had a hard time articulating at the time quite why it was so disheartening, but... I think I get it a little more now.

This is a podcast that has loudly spoken about inclusivity and diversity and all that jazz, but... I mean, it's easy to say that, isn't it? But just talking the talk without walking the walk isn't enough. That's like saying "sure, we will happily welcome you in our house -- if you can figure out how to unlock the door."

And friends, my lock-picking set is pretty good by this point. I've been scouting out locations for decades. I've had to research every goddamn classroom, field trip, and assigned bookstore that I've ever had in an academic setting. I've had to research every movie theater, theme park, and menu for every outing with friends or dates. I spend a long time painstakingly charting out accessible public transportation and potential places to sit down every time I leave the house.

Because when I was in college, my professors never made sure their lesson plans were accessible. (And I often had to argue with them to get the subpar accommodations I got.) Because my friends don't always know to get movie tickets for the accessible rows. Because my dates sometimes leave me on fucking read when I ask if we can go to a restaurant that doesn't keep its restrooms down a flight of stairs.

I had one professor who ever did research to see if I could do all the coursework she had planned, and who came up with alternate plans when she realized that I could not. Only one. It was a medical history and ethics class, and my professor sounded bewildered as she realized how difficult it is to plan your life when you're disabled.

This woman was straight-up one of the most thoughtful, philosophical, and ethical professors I've ever had, one who was incredibly devoted to diversity and inclusion -- and she'd never thought about it before, that the hospital archives she wanted us to visit were up a flight of stairs. That the medical museum full of disabled bodies she wanted us to visit only had a code-locked back entrance and an old freight elevator for their disabled guests who were still breathing.

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? It's easy to theoretically accept the existence of people who aren't like you. It's a lot harder to actively create a space in which they can exist by your side.

Because here's what I did before I contacted the podcasters. I googled the venue. I researched the neighborhood and contacted a friend who lives in the area to help me figure out if there were any accessible public transportation routes near there. (There aren't.) I planned for over an hour to figure out how close I could get before I had to shell out for an uber for the last leg of the trip.

Then I read through the venue's website. I looked through their main pages, through their FAQs to see if there was any mention of accessibility. No dice. I download their packet for clients and find out that, while the base building is accessible, the way that chairs/tables are set up for individual functions can make it inaccessible. So it's really up to who's hosting the show there.

So then and only then I contacted the podcasters. I asked if the floor plan was accessible. I asked if all the seats were accessible, or only some, and whether it was open seating or not. Would I need to show up early to get an accessible seat, or maybe make a reservation?

And... well, I got the one-sentence reply back that I described above. And that... god, it was really disheartening. I realized that they never even asked if their venues were accessible when they were booking the shows. I realized that they were unwilling to put in the work to learn the answers to questions that disabled attendees might have. I realized that they didn't care to find out if the building was accessible.

They didn't know and they didn't care. That, I think, is what took the wind out of my sails when they emailed me back. It's what made me decide that... yeah, I didn't really want to go through the trouble of finding an accessible route to the venue. I didn't want to have to pay an arm and a leg to hire a car to take me the last part of the journey. I didn't want to make myself frantic trying to figure out if I could do all that and still make the last train home.

If they didn't care, I guess I didn't either.

If they'd apologized and said that the only venue they could get was inaccessible, I actually would have understood. I know that small shows don't always get their pick of venues. I get it. I even would have understood if they'd been like "oh dang, I actually don't know -- but I'll find out."

But to be told that they didn't know and didn't intend to find out... oof. That one stung.

Because.... this is the thing. This is the thing. I may be good at it by now, but I'm so tired of picking locks. I'm tired of doing all the legwork because no one ever thinks to help me. I'm tired of feeling like an afterthought at best, or at worst utterly unwelcome.

If you truly want to be inclusive, you need to stop telling people that you're happy to have them -- if they can manage to unlock the door. You need to fucking open it yourself and welcome them in.

What brought all this back to me now, you may be asking? Well... I guess it's just what I was thinking to myself as I was tidying up my phone.

Today I'm deleting podcasts.

#I guess it did save me a lot of money #I'll still probably go up to nyc to visit with friends for my bday but I won't go all the way out to brooklyn for the show #and I probably won't need to get the hotel room #and I DEFINITELY won't be supporting their patreon like I was planning lmao #I'll buy myself a new tarot deck for my birthday instead #cw:#disability #ableism

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forlix · 9 months

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· . ˚ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

— the moments in which the members of stray kids realize how they truly feel about you.

words・1.4k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / warnings・depictions of conflict and anxiety in hyunjin's and han's / genres・domestic fluff, smidges of hurt/comfort, established relationships

a/n・thought i'd try out a new fic format :-) i had so much fun writing these and hope you like reading them just as much. any and all feedback is appreciated, as always!

chan is in a heated staring contest with his notepad when the door opens, and he knows that it’s you who comes in, but his head is miles away, tangled in an amalgamation of syllables and rhythms. he goes on to forget that you’re here for a short while, poring over the unfinished lyrics in front of him with undivided focus. that is, until he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

you’ve just pulled a chair up next to his desk. “lemme see,” you say, gesturing to the notepad. there’s a surprised pause, and then chan places it in your hand, scoots closer to you.

you spend the next two hours talking him through his block, but there are periods when you fall silent to brainstorm or to write something down, and chan takes those quiet opportunities just to look at you: wearing one of his old t-shirts, your hair still damp from your shower, completely concentrated. and he knows, then, that he wants to marry you.

minho doesn’t realize he loves you in a singular moment. rather, he has a faint inkling for some time, and then the rug is randomly pulled from beneath his feet, and all of a sudden he can’t remember a version of his world that didn't have you at its center.

there are times when he’s especially aware of his feelings, though. like when he throws a witty remark in your direction and your retort comes back twice as sharp. when your eyes and smile light up like lanterns as you talk to him about your passions. when one (or all) of his cats hover at your side as you go about your day. when he returns home after a grueling practice and you’re there to offer him your comfort, no matter his withdrawn demeanor or sweaty skin.

he is a quiet lover, and sometimes he worries that he’s too quiet, that you have no idea what’s going on inside him every time he looks at you. but words have never really been necessary with minho. you know. you just do.

changbin is greeted by a chilly breeze when he emerges from the gym, and he silently chastizes himself for forgetting to bring an outer layer yet again. but the temperature moves to the back of his mind when he spots you, waiting on the sidewalk, as you said you would. a familiar grin breaks across your face when you see him, and he feels its shape against his lips when he runs over and kisses you, in lieu of hello.

“what are you feeling for dinner?” you ask once he’s pulled away, and he realizes that you’ve pressed something to his chest: one of the hoodies that he keeps at your place, still soft and warm from just coming out of the dryer. and boom—the epiphany hits him, instantly and unequivocally.

he is dumbfounded for a moment, just processing the newfound discovery; and then, out of nowhere, the two of you say the name of the same restaurant at the same time. he swears he never believed in soulmates until he met you.

hyunjin has always held so many emotions in his heart so fervently, to the point that they sometimes overflow in the form of words that he doesn’t believe, in a tone that he doesn’t intend. and it happened again today, when he spoke to you the wrong way in a moment of pure impulse, and the surprise on your face morphed into poorly-disguised hurt.

a few hours later, the weight of his actions sits heavily on his shoulders. when he lifts his phone to call you, his hands are shaking a little, and a breathy apology spills from his lips the moment he hears you on the other end: “i’m sorry, angel. i’m trying, i promise. i really am.” to which you answer, “i know, hyune. i forgive you. we’ll keep trying together, okay?” and your words pull his heartstrings in a new direction entirely.

he asks if he can come over, you say yes, and he tells you he loves you as soon as you open the door. he’s done hiding his heart from you.

jisung’s contagious grin and raucous cackle come easily to him for the most part, but there are times when he forgets how it feels to laugh or to breathe, times when he wants only to hide from the world and all of its scariest parts. and when you see his figure in the doorway tonight, his face cast in a nameless shadow, his shoulders sunken in quiet defeat, you understand immediately that this is one of those times.

“do you wanna talk about it?” you ask as he approaches you. silently, he shakes his head: not tonight. but his body language asks for what he cannot verbalize. you extend your arms toward him, and he buries himself in them the second he’s close enough to, his face nestling the crook of your neck, the tension in his limbs melting at your gentle touch. you stay there for a long time, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, coaxing him back to the ground, back to you.

wherever he chooses to hide, he thinks he’d like to take you with him.

when felix opens his eyes, the space in the bed next to him is empty, and the faint scent of flour and sugar wafts through the gap beneath his door.

he gets to his feet, throws on some clothes, and wanders in the direction of the smell, rubbing the sleep from his eyes—and the sight that awaits him makes him wonder if he’s still dreaming. you’re standing at the stove, still in your pajamas, hair slightly disheveled from your rest, and there are pancakes in the frying pan before you; sliced strawberries on the cutting board next to the stove. and the look of sheer focus on your face, as if staring at the pancakes will cook them faster, absolutely destroys him. (and he knows in that moment that he wants to wake up to you for the rest of his life.)

with an enamored smile, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulls your back to his chest, and presses a light kiss to the nape of your neck. “morning, beautiful,” he mumbles sweetly. “how fucking lucky am i?”

being around you makes seungmin feel like a kid with a crush. he smiles brighter and laughs louder. he opens like a lotus in bloom when you say his name. the floaty sensation he gets when you kiss his cheek or hold his hand persists for hours afterward—and none of it makes any fucking sense to him. it’s not that he doesn’t believe in love, but he’s never believed that love could feel like this, straight out of a sonnet.

now, your head is on his shoulder, your body rising and falling in your slumber. seungmin looks at your interlocked hands where they rest on his knee, and at the current track displayed on his lockscreen: “still” by day6, a song about losing and loving, about regret and reminiscence. those bright days between us are over, the lyrics go, and he makes a silent promise to your sleeping form that the bright days between the two of you will never end.

the word "love" still doesn't cross his mind, but it is etched all over his face, and carved into his soul.

you and jeongin are telling each other about your days over dinner when your phone lights up with an incoming call, and he nearly spits out his mouthful when he sees who it’s from. for a few seconds, the two of you just stare at each other in flabbergasted silence. but then, you raise your phone to your ear: “hi, grandma! to what do i owe this pleasure?”

and the voice of his grandmother comes back through the receiver. she tells you that she’s just gone on an evening walk and found herself thinking of you, so she wanted to see how you’re doing; if you’re taking care of yourself. you rush to thank her, looking entirely flustered, and a bit like you’re about to burst into tears.

with that, the two of you launch into chatter about everything under the sun: grocery store discounts, the recent humidity, jeongin’s bad habits, you name it. and it finally dawns on jeongin how inextricably embedded in his life you have become—and that he doesn’t want it any other way.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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