#i'm going to be weirdly intense about it for a bit don't mind me

[alternate-real-ities]

Small problem here. At my university more and more of my friends and classmates are supposedly dropping out! But more and more Asian jocks keep taking their place! I may just be a theatre major, but there has to be something I can do right? Before they fully mess up the spring musical that is.

The Big Play

One day, as you're walking across campus lost in thought about these changes, you suddenly feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around and find yourself face to face with two muscular Asian guys who could be mistaken for twins - the spitting image of the type that seems to be taking over your university. One was wearing a blue compression shirt, while the other wore a matching tank top, seeming to belong to some kind of athletic team or group. Maybe they were from your university's football team?

"Hey there", the taller one says, his deep voice confident and friendly. "We're new here. You're doing the theatre major thing, right? Us too, bro! Mind showing us around?" You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Why would these stereotypical-looking jocks want to join your theatre classes? But then again, they seem friendly enough, and you don't want to be rude. "Hmmm, sure, I can show you around." you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm heading to the theatre building if you want to come along."

You start walking towards the theatre building, the two muscular Asian guys falling into step beside you. As you walk, you can't help but notice how sweaty they are - beads of sweat trickle down their chiselled faces and dampen their shirts.

"Thanks for showing us around, bro." - the taller one says. As he speaks, he brushes up against you, leaving a smear of sweat on your arm, but you try not to let it bother you.

"No problem", you mumble, leading them into the theatre building. Throughout the tour, the two guys seem fascinated by everything, asking questions and nodding along. But every so often, one of them brushes up against you - an elbow here, a hip there. At first, you think it's just because they're so muscular and not used to navigating tight spaces. But as it happens more and more, you start to wonder if it might be on purpose.

Inside the dimly lit hallway of the theatre building, their musky scent seems to grow stronger, filling your nostrils with every breath. They brush up against you again as they look at posters on the wall, their sweaty skin leaving faint damp marks on your clothes. You feel your face flush; their musk is strong - a heady mix of sweat, testosterone, and something else you can't quite place. It's not unpleasant, but it's intense.

Finally, after showing them the auditorium and dressing rooms, the tour comes to an end. You breathe a sigh of relief as you step back outside into the fresh air. "Thanks again for the tour bro!" - the taller one says, clapping you on the shoulder hard enough to make you stumble slightly. "We'll definitely see you around dude. We have to get to the gym now, but we really appreciate it."

You nod, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. "No worries, feel free to hit me up if you need anything else." you manage to say. They grin weirdly at you, their eyes seemingly dull, as if nothing much was going inside their heads. With that, they jog off towards the gym, leaving you standing there, still carrying their scent and feeling a bit dazed by the whole encounter.

You head back to your dorm, still feeling a bit flustered. The encounter with those two jocks has left you feeling strange. Why were there so many more Asian dudes around campus lately? And there's no way in hell that those 2 guys were theatre majors. You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. Maybe you just need to get some rest.

That night, you wake up drenched in sweat, your sheets tangled around your legs. Your body feels like it's on fire, a high fever burning through you. You groan and roll over, trying to find a cooler spot on the mattress, but it's no use. In your fevered state, you swear you can still smell the intense musk of those two jocks from before. Their scent penetrates your sickly mind, making you feel even more feverish. You just wish this was over already.

As dawn breaks, you finally drift into a restless sleep, only to be jolted awake a few hours later by the loud ring of your alarm. For a moment, you're disoriented, your body aching and your head pounding. A sudden surge of energy courses through you though, chasing away the last vestiges of fatigue and fever.

You throw on some clothes and head out for a run, uncharacteristic for you. As you jog past the gym, you see a familiar face - one of the jocks from your theatre class. He does a double take as he sees you, his eyes widening appreciatively. "Looking good, bro!" he calls out, his voice deep and rich. "You should come work out with us sometime!"

You thank him for the compliment, but keep running and go on your way. While you feel flattered, there's no way a guy like you could keep up with that guy at the gym.

Later that day in one of your theatre practical classes, one of the many Asian bros in your theatre class suggests skipping rehearsal to play some football instead. "Come on bro," he says, clapping you on the shoulder. "It'll be a good bonding experience for us. We'll be getting in sync for the play!"

You hesitate for a moment, feeling uncomfortable with his suggestion to skip rehearsal for football. But as they insist, you find yourself agreeing against your better judgment. "Okay, sure. Let's play some football." - you hear yourself say, a slight excitement creeping into your voice.

You all gather in the backstage, where a makeshift football field has been set up. As you start tossing the ball around, you're surprised by how naturally your body moves, dribbling the ball and passing it to your classmates. The other guys are all laughing and joking, their energy infectious. You find yourself laughing along with them, feeling a sense of belonging that you haven't felt in a long time.

The game intensifies, sweat pouring down your faces as you run and jump, your heart racing with adrenaline. You can feel your muscles burning, but in a good way - like they're being awakened for the first time. Your skin starts to tingle, and you can feel the heat radiating off your body.

As the game winds down, you're all panting and glistening with sweat. The air is thick with the musky scent of a bunch of aroused young men, their hormones raging after the intense physical exertion. You look at your arms and notice they seem more defined than before, veins lightly tracing their contours. And is that a tan? Maybe that run this morning was more effective than you thought.

Your two jock buddies from yesterday come up to you, grinning widely. "Man, you're a natural!" one of them says, clapping you hard on the back. You can feel the sweat from his hand mixing with yours, but it doesn't bother you as much as it did before. In fact, it feels kind of nice.

"Yeah, we'll make a real player out of you bro." the other chimes in, playfully punching your shoulder. You laugh along with them, feeling a strange sense of belonging despite the odd circumstances. As you head back home, you can still feel the heat of their hands on your skin, and the scent of their musk lingers in your nostrils. You can't help but smile at the thought of spending more time with them.

The week went by, and you found it harder to focus on pretty much anything. Your once-sharp mind felt fuzzy, thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind whenever you tried to concentrate on something for too long. Theatre scripts that used to dance off the page now seemed boring and pointless compared to the thrill of spending time with your new jock friends.

Your body was changing rapidly too, but you were too distracted and dim-witted to really notice or care. Each morning, you'd stumble out of bed, your ever-growing massive cock already semi-hard and leaking pre-cum, making a mess of your sheets. But all you could think about was hanging out with your new bros, and how good it felt working up a sweat.

Even as your IQ dropped, and your cock grew bigger and more insistent, you remained blissfully unaware of the true reason behind your changes. The Asian flu had wormed its way into your brain, rewiring it to crave power, pleasure, and the approving gazes of your Asian bros. It also amplified your extroversion by a tenfold, making you eager to spread this new way of being.

Each passing day brought more changes to your body. Muscles erupted across your frame, rippling beneath your skin as they grew denser and larger. Your skin tone deepened to a rich, lustrous brown that seemed to glow under the lights. And there was an insistent throbbing between your legs now, a heavy ache that demanded attention.

One morning, you finally caught sight of yourself in the mirror - and saw nothing wrong with the Adonis staring back at you. Gone was the scrawny theatre major; instead, a towering, dark-skinned Asian god grinned in the reflection.

As you stared at your transformed reflection, the urge to touch yourself became overwhelming. You stumbled back onto your bed, stroking your massive, throbbing cock until thick ropes of cum erupted from the tip, painting your face a pearly white. Panting heavily, you gazed at your reflection in the mirror across from your bed, admiring how the sight of your cum-covered face only enhanced your new god-like appearance. With a deep, satisfied grunt, you licked some of your essence off your fingers, savouring the taste as you prepared to go to classes.

Except, you didn't go to classes. Instead, you found yourself drawn to the weight room, eager to pump more iron and feel your muscles swell. Your Asian bros were already there, their chiselled bodies glistening with sweat as they grunted and strained against the heavy weights.

"Yo, bro! We've been thinking… why waste our time on that lame theatre shit any more?" one of them called out, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face. "We need a beast like you out there on the field. You should join the team!"

Your hesitation lasted only a split second before you nodded eagerly, a wide grin spreading across your handsome face. "Fuck yeah! Theatre is boring as hell anyway," you declared, your voice deeper and more confident than it had ever been before. The only plays you'd be doing from now on were on the field.

The other jocks cheered and high-fived you as you joined them at the weight bench. After the intense workout, you hit the showers together, steam filling the room as hot water cascaded over your glistening skin. Hands roamed and groped, laughter echoed off the tiles. It felt natural, right. Your cock throbbed constantly now, always hungry for more stimulation.

The Asian flu had taken hold completely now, rewriting your mind and body to crave the company of other infected males. But you were too far gone to realise it. All you knew was that you felt amazing - strong, confident, horny all the time. And you wanted everyone else to feel this way too.

As you strode out of the locker room with your new bros, you couldn't help but notice more guys on campus looking different… bigger, buffer, their skin tones richer. The infection was spreading, turning more men into dumb, horny Asian jock bros like yourself. It made you grin for some reason - this was definitely wrong, but it felt so right…

[m1rotics]

I wrote you such a profoundly delicious hard thought earlier but tumblr decided it wasn’t going to push it through like a true cockblock so now I’m writing it again but with less creative vocabulary because I have the memory of a goldfish cracker.

Cult Leader! Hongjoong in all his glory, brutal and downright cruel, ravishing his beloved obsession on an altar of marble in front of his most devoted followers (the other Ateez members). Maybe they just stand and watch, hidden behind masks or veils as Hongjoong peels away every layer of his dearest lambs soul. Or, perhaps they touch themselves, each other, but never their prophet’s prey. Nobody comes between a beast god and his favored meal ambrosia. 🙂‍↕️

Eat me alive (swallow me whole)

cult leader! hongjoong x fem!reader

a/n: TYSM FOR REQUESTING. I went ham with this and it got so insanely self-indulgent, so I hope you don't mind that too much. like it has everything you suggested but then I added everything I'm high-key into. sorry not sorry.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: pwp, rough unprotected sex, creampies, biting, he technically spits in your mouth, everyone helps undress you but nothing really happens, pussy inspection, you get bathed and lotioned and shaved, exhibitionism, voyuerism, hair pulling, weirdly possessive hongjoong, you get to refered to as little lamb a few times, and called a whore explicitly and implied like once or twice so there's degradation in this

the room is neat, grayscale themed.

a mild smell you can't really place, but still enjoy. knick-knacks on the dressers and books sorted on the shelves. their bed is made. if the situation were different you'd describe it as comfortable. cozy even. whoever's room this is clearly keeps it tidy. however, you can't appreciate it because standing in front of them is unnerving. your palms are sweaty and your stomach aches. you want to hurl over and pass out. probably choke on your tongue and die while you're at it.

it's so quiet. you can hear the sound of their breathing. pin-drop silence.

they're just looking at you, observing. like some kind of fidgety animal, or a new, shiny toy.

it feels like the world is paused. stand-still. nothing but strings holding your entire body up. the ground about to crumble away and swallow you whole.

hongoong purrs, low in your ear, “they're gonna get you ready for me. prepare you for what's to come.”

you gulp, and hongjoong presses his cheek to yours. his hand comes to grip your chin, keeping your head forward, keeping your eyes locked with seonghwa, the only other person you know. barely, but you recognize him.

“isn't she pretty?” he murmurs, nosing your temple and you can feel him smile against your skin. his question sits heavy in the air, unanswered but heard. hongjoong doesn't mind, it's not like they were really meant to respond anyways. he pushes you forward, and you flounder, barely catching yourself from falling to your knees.

“be nice to her, okay?” he warbles, lilts, if you listen hard enough it sounds almost like a warning.

you hear the door open then shut. suddenly, the room feels so much smaller. more suffocating. you've never been in the same room as them without a buffer, without hongjoong.

they move quickly, each a unit. someone takes the back, pulling your shirt up and above your head. the prettiest man you've ever seen comes to stand in front of you, unbuttoning your pants. his brown hair curtains his cherubic face, and he has the smoothest skin you've ever seen.

you're shell-shocked, open-mouthed. your brain yet to catch up with what's happening around you.

when one moves, someone is taking their place. the man in front of you is tall, so tall. you have to look up a bit to meet his gaze. his eyes are dark and intense. his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. you shudder, blinking up at him. his hands groping at your chest through your bra.

“don't get too handsy, mingi,” the man behind you says, too light and carefree to be a true scolding.

your breath hitches, and the man— mingi —chuckles. deep and syrupy. you don't know who's behind you, and you don't make an effort to look— already too knocked sideways.

“look at her, she's practically begging to be fucked,” a finger traces up the length of your spine, stopping at the edge of the clasp of your bra and pulling away. you gasp when your bra strap hits your back, jolting from the flash of pain. he unclasps it after, and mingi helps slide it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a thud.

a man with a lazy grin saunters up to you next, black hair tickling his neck, his hands settling on your hips, thumbs pressing into your stomach. he squeezes.

“she's so soft,” he murmurs, eyebrows furrowed and pouting, “I'm getting jealous.”

seonghwa clicks his tongue, “that's too bad, woo. hurry up and don't do anything stupid.”

the man —who you now know as woo — guides you to bed, pushing you down until you’re laying on your back. you hear a groan, low and throaty, fingers latching onto the band of your underwear. he drags them down treacherously slowly, but he does manage to get them off at some point. he inches forward, but seonghwa wrenches him by his hair before he can get too close.

“hwa,” he whines, “please i–”

seonghwa shoulders him out of the way with ease, slotting himself between your legs.

“yun, hold her legs,” he says, and then large hands are holding your thighs apart. seonghwa brushes a thumb over your pussy hair. he pauses for a moment, mutters something to himself. then his finger is swiping through the lips of your pussy. it comes out damp, and he hums, amused. you twitch, thighs flexing as you attempt to close them.

the man above you smiles and shakes his head. you gasp when seonghwa spreads your pussy open. your slick folds on display. he simply looks from a moment, inspecting something, but he doesn't say anything so you think he didn't find what he was looking for. his finger taps your clit and you whimper, hips trying to find more friction. if it bothers him he doesn't tell you so you assume you're good. he runs a finger through the slick dribbling down from your hole, and you keen.

“sensitive,” seonghwa notes, and sinks a finger in. you gasp, and you hear someone titter, then a whisper somewhere in the room. it slides in easy, and your back arches when he curls his finger.

the pleasure is plucked away as fast as it's given.

“everyone out, i'll do do the rest myself,” seonghwa declares, rising from his knees.

someone groans, and there's a plethora of muttered curses. they complain all the way out. seonghwa ignores them all the while, and you feel vulnerable under his probing gaze.

“come,” he says, curt.

you clamber off the bed and onto your feet, following after him like a lost puppy. he doesn't go far, opens one of the two doors in the room

seonghwa leads you to the bathroom, and you assume the other must be the closet. white tile flooring that's so cold against your feet. a porcelain tub in the middle, a sink to your left with a marble counter, littered in various products— body washes, lotions, oils, shaving cream.

“is this your room?”

he gives a noncommittal hum, ignoring you to begin filling the tub with water. he pours in the soap and some type of oil, permeating the air with the scent of roses, swishes his hand through the water and gets it all foamy.

“get in,” he says, still perched on the edge of the tub.

“you're going to watch me bathe..?”

“no,” he shakes his head, “I'm going to bathe you.”

you nod, slowly, resigning yourself to your fate. he's already seen so much of you. this isn't that bad.

gingerly, you dip your feet into the water, and it's the perfect temperature. not too warm, but not too cold. it reaches your chest when you're fully submerged. it goes by quickly, seonghwa being surprisingly through. he even washes your face, being mindful of getting soap in your eyes. he hands you a towel when you step out, and gives you a moment to dry off.

“hop up here,” he pats the free space besides the sink, grabbing one of the bottles from the counter. you listen, propping yourself up. it's chilly against your bare ass. you hope he doesn't mind, but you think you deserve grace because he hasn't handed you not one piece of clothing.

seonghwa lotions you, from the soles of your feet to the skin of your neck. gently, almost massage like in nature.

“you're really good with your hands,” you murmur, and the smallest hint of a smile graces seonghwa's face. he doesn't respond, but you're too busy admiring him to mind. up close, he's so unbelievably pretty. high cheekbones and honey-gold skin. a nose bridge you want to trace your fingers along. nice plump lips.

you're thrusted back into reality when seonghwa rubs something warm (did he warm it up for you?) on your cunt, slathering you in shaving cream. he doesn't miss the inside of your thighs, the crease between your cunt and your thighs.

“spread your legs,” he instructs, and you do. seonghwa sinks to his knees to get a better view, and you spread your legs wider to give him more room. the first swipe is smooth, starting at your mound. he pulls the skin to make sure he doesn't nick you. he gets in the creases, the lips, your lower tummy. dunks the razor in between, forms a routine. a few strokes, dunk, and continue.

he's careful. methodical.

his tongue poking out in concentration, eyebrows pinched together.

it's a bit intimate, how much care he's putting into this. despite the tenderness, you can't help but preen under the attention. the thought of something being so close, but not getting any relief. has you straining to keep still, and you're getting wetter by the second, dripping down and pooling on the marble. nearing the edge.

if it gets in the way seonghwa doesn't bother to mention it, and you won't acknowledge it unless forced. seonghwa breath blows on your clit, and you flinch like you've been burned, but he continues like it didn't happen, so you relax against thinking it was an accident. you miss the glint of mischief in seonghwa's eyes at your reaction.

after he finishes up, he wipes the rest of the shaving cream off with a damp towel.

“stay here.”

you nod, lightly swinging your legs. he comes back with a white translucent robe, and you hop down to let him slip it on you.

he sent you to hongjoong like that. bare-foot and dazed. hongjoong kisses you silly while you wait for them.

now, you're laying on the stone in nothing but a sheer silk robe. hongjoong at the base of it, peering down at you. it's embarrassing being so exposed in front of them, and they're looking at you so intently like there's nowhere they'd rather be. nothing else they’d rather to see. goosebumps prickle at your skin. not just from the cold but from all the attention. it'd be impossible not to, even if all you can see is their eyes. the bottom half of their faces are covered by black masks, only their eyes visible. all seven are almost always at hongjoong's side, and they don't stray too far when they aren't.

such as now, standing by your side, watching you. they all wear the same black getup– long sleeves with black leather pants– and it leaves you flustered to be the only one naked.

it's still odd to see all of them so quiet, stock-still, statuesque in their silence. your lids flutter, dazed. you squirm under the scrutiny. your hands lay at your sides but you wonder if you reach out would you be able to touch them? if they'd cross that line first.

hongjoong's hands are hot when he touches your skin, settling on your knees— warm like freshly spilled blood, staining your skin, permeating your body. you melt under his palms.

he pushes them apart to slot himself between your legs, his hands sliding down to your inner thighs. you twitch from sheer anticipation.

hongjoong looks nothing short of saintly, tan skin and coffee brown eyes, blonde hair so close to white. a string of light hitting him perfectly, over the soft swell over his pectoral and down the smoothness of his stomach. his white robe hanging off his shoulders.

he looks like god made corporeal.

hongjoong leans forward to press a kiss to your sternum. he doesn't bother to move the fabric yet, but it's so thin you feel it. his lips are so soft and warm. ticklish like your skin is being brushed by clouds. the kisses are chaste, short and sweet, peppered on your stomach and between your breasts. blunt nails running up and down your sides just to make you shiver.

hongjoong doesn't start getting mouthy until his lips are latched onto your nipple, flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue. you're panting, arching your back to press into the heat of his mouth. you gasp when his teeth sink into the fat of your breasts, and hongjoong pops off with a smile, kneading the other with his free hand.

you're trembling already, so pent up from nothing.

hongjoong giggles. a boyish, fleeting sound.

“so needy,” he drawls, low and languid, dipping the tip of his finger into your dripping slit. you keen, trying to press yourself into him, push his finger further in. hongjoong kisses his teeth and yanks his back.

“patience,” he hisses, and you whisper an apology; a genuine one, his reprimand has shame bubbling within your gut. hongjoong skims over your sides, pushing your robe to fall over the sides of the marble slab. it leaves your body on full display, stripping you of that thin boundary. his hand trails back down and he sinks a finger into your cunt. you gasp, writhing, hongjoong clasps a hand around your hip to hold you firm in place.

he keeps his place slow, his finger crooked enough to graze that spot you so desperately want him to hit but not enough to truly satisfy.

“joong,” you whine, “please.”

“please what?” he hums, brushing your clit with his thumb. it's barely there, a feather-light touch, that sends a bolt of pleasure through you.

“i– i need–” you start, but the words ebb away when you catch sight of the audience watching you. embarrassment washes over you. white-hot humiliation rushes through your veins. their eyes have lost their curious edge. that distant, observing look giving way for something far more predatory to take its place. they look like a starving pack of dogs; drooling and itching to eat. hongjoong’s finger curls, and you let out a pitiful moan.

“need what, lamb?” he asks, taunting, forcing your attention back to him. you blink at him, already bleary-eyed and dumb. your mouth parts but your eyes glance to the side, causing the words to stall in your throat, hongjoong smiles. sharp at the edges.

“don't tell me you're getting shy now. you don't want them to see how pathetic you are for me? you don't want them to know how little it takes to make you beg?” another brush to your clit, another pathetic whimper tugged out of you. your hips jolt.

“I can't have that,” he says, almost dismissively. his finger comes to a halt, and you whine. throaty and high-pitched. your eyes clamping shut with a pout. you don't know what to do with your hands, if you want to touch and pull him closer, but you don't because you want to be good. your fingers twitch at your sides.

“so, beg for it. you know how to ask for what you want.”

his finger slips out easily. it's mean –cruel, even– but it works because suddenly you're scraping for words that don't come swift enough. when they do they fall off your tongue in a rush; rabbit-quick and barely thought through.

“joong, please,” you mewl, “need you. need your fingers. want you to fuck me on them. want you to make me feel good, please.”

hongjoong frowns, his finger running up and down your soaked slit. it's distracting, mind-numbing.

“only my fingers?”

hongjoong doesn't make any real effort to hide his teasing despite the hurt look on his face. his voice still holds that playful lilt. still, you're cloudy thoughts latch on it, and you panic. you're not ungrateful– you never are. you just want him, and you repeat that like prayer. shaking your head so fervently that it starts to give you a headache.

“no, no, no– I just– I want you. I just want all of you,” the words spew out. easier than air, as true as your name.

hongjoong grins, and his hand cradles your jaw, pushing your head to look at the hungry eyes watching you. “c’mon, show them how pretty you are when you beg.”

you shudder when your eyes meet, and if your thoughts were less frayed at the edges, you would've tried to soak in details. see who's sanity is slipping through their fingers the most, but you can't. you can't think straight, can barely focus. you can't notice anything besides the fact that they all seem ravenous. eyeing you like a slab of decadent meat– raw and bloody. you feel debauched, so lewd and shameful, but your mouth doesn't stop moving, “please, joongie, want you. want all of you– your fingers, your cock, your mouth. i want it all.”

“there you go,” he croons, and plunges two fingers into your cunt. your vision blurs, whites. you cry out, bucking into his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers. hongjoong motions for something, and then someone places a glass in his hand. deep red wine swirling around in it. hongjoong tilts his head back, and just like that half of the liquid is gone. he leans in, mouth pursed and taps you cheek.

your mouth parts, and then he's spitting it into your mouth. some of it spills from the sides of your lips, dribbling down your cheeks, and hongjoong happily laps it up. dragging his tongue up your cheek and over the seam of your mouth. he leans back to pour the rest from the glass, and you sputter when he rolls your clit under his thumb. wine rolls down your chin when you jolt.

hongjoong leans back with a pleased grin, snapping his wrist with more effort now. scissoring his fingers, pinching your swollen clit. your orgasm stuns you. you stiffen, freezing, your entire body going rigid as the pleasure racks through you. struggling not to choke. you gurgle pathetically around your mouthful, slowly gulping it down, choking back moans.

“such a messy lil' thing,” he tuts when you're done, pulling his fingers out to hold your face, smearing slick on your cheek, “you're getting me all dirty.”

“you'll clean it up, won't you?” he coos, sugar-sweet; voice light as créme. you nod. one, twice. quickly and eagerly, a good girl.

his fingers latch into your mouth, pressing on your tongue. your lips close around them, sucking softly. you can taste your release on his skin, and you whine. hushed and dulcet. his thin fingers slide out, fingertips tracing over your lips, now slick with spit, and thrust back in. surprised, you gag. your eyes turning dewy. he does it again, deeper this time. your throat protests, convulsing around his fingers. a wet click following every thrust of his fingers. tears gliding down your cheeks.

hongjoong works your throat with almost mechanical precision. in and out, in and out. pushing as deep as his fingers will reach. deep breaths and obscene mewling fill the air. the odd sounds of your throat making room for his fingers. hongjoong is fuzzy in your vision. uncharacteristically soft. his lips rosebud pink with red-tinted cheeks. his coffee-black eyes trained on you. it's dreamy, untouched by reality. some make-believe fantasy brought to life, prayers made reality. a saint in all their ethereal glory. your flesh made holy by his touch alone.

hongjoong replaces his fingers with his mouth. it's wine-warm and sweet. his lips velvety and soft. the kiss is gentle, intimate. his mouth tastes like salvation; deliverance. like being bleed out so gently, you don't even realize you're dying. finally, you allow yourself to reach out and touch. a hand cupping his round cheek, another on the firmness of his arm. he's hot to the touch. molten gold. bleeding sun.

hongjoong leans back slowly, lips kiss-swollen and wet. cheeks rosy. his hand wraps loosely around his cock. pre-cum beading at the tip, rolling down the underside. ruddy and aching. his hips jerk, and he gives himself a few pumps, shaky exhales escaping him.

he's a sight for sore eyes, a sight for your eyes. something for only a select few, not for everyone else. something to share between the nine of you. because hongjoong is for everyone. the safety he provides, the guidance, his care— but this. this is just for you.

(well, at least for now. for today.)

hongjoong presses the head of his cock against your pussy, rolls his hips, coating the underside of his cock in your slick. the tip bumping your clit at every pass. he does it with painfully slow and deliberate strokes. each thrust aiming to keep you on the brink but never give you enough.

“joong,” you hiccup, tears blooming on your lash line, “please.”

your voice breaks at the end, dissolving into a mewl as you attempt to rut up against him.

“oh, baby,” he coos, jutting his lip out in a faux pout, “tell me what you want. tell me and i'll think about giving it to you, how about that?”

“want you to fuck me,” you cry, tears trickling down your temples. hongjoong presses a kiss to your open mouth.

“one more time,” he breathes. nearly reverent. a touch desperate.

“fuck me, please,” you wail, sniffling, and hongjoong with a surprising amount of strength flips you onto you knees, cheek smoshed into the slab. a dull pain radiates from how hard you hit your knees, but it's over-shined by how needy you feel, how empty your hole is. he forces his cock in with one harsh stroke. the stretch still aches, but it feels so good. you're so full, stretched to the brim, and the angle. fuck, he's so deep.

your eyes clamp shut, and hongjoong hand buries itself in your hair, the other on your shoulder forcing you to keep the arch.

“open your eyes,” he snaps, “look at them while i fuck you.”

your eyes peel open, and you blink away the tears obscuring your vision. the force of his thrusts jerk you forward, and you think you might be drooling.

“show them what you look like after I've ruined you, little lamb.” he snarls, snapping his hips with more fevor. the sound is disgustingly wet— the squelching of your pussy, the echo of your desperate moaning, his deranged mumbling, his balls hitting your clit. you might look like a proper whore.

hongjoong hips slow, and then come to a stop, and you panic, trying to push yourself up so you can fuck yourself back on him to no avail because his hands keep you firm in place.

“come closer.” he orders.

the sound of their boots hitting the floor is deafening, but you can barely focus on it while begging hongjoong to keep going. they're so much closer now, you don't even have to stretch to reach them. less than a foot away. now you can see the clear imprint of their dicks straining against their pants, their balled up fists, some of their ears dusted pink.

“isn't she the perfect whore?” he asks, voice thick, “taking my cock so well.”

your cunt clenches around him, at how vulgar he is, at how he talks about you. the praise turning into molten liquorice in your blood. pure saccharin. your teeth ache.

“jus’ for you, all for you,” you babble, slurred, dribbling drool.

“that's right,” hongjoong purrs, snarls, his hips drawing back to slam back in.

“you're mine. you're all mine.” he punctuates each word with a thrust, knocking the agreements of your mouth. reducing you to a whining, whimper mess. you're truly fucked dumb. you can't think, can't breathe. your lungs struggle to heave in air, all of it getting knocked out of you. this will definitely leave a mark. you don't mind one bit.

hongjoong fucks you like he has something to prove, like a well-oiled machine, like something feral has taken over him. something rabid and carnal crawling out of his skin. he reaches down, and rubs your clit, and you blubber.

the pleasure increasing ten-fold. you scramble against the marble, nails scraping against it. crying out like a wounded animal, trying to run from the pleasure, from the intensity of it all. trying to shed your skin into something more honest, completely let go of your mortal flesh and become something more.

your orgasm pierces through you, splits you in half, spatch-cocked. the force of the sob makes you quake, full body shaking. cataclysmic, the world disintegrating around you. your brain fried, scrambled, bouncing around in your empty head. lights on but nobody's home.

hongjoong doesn't stop, he fucks you through it, until you've gone limp and dumb. completely boneless. nothing but twitches and mewls. a pathetic little thing, bruised fruit. ripe for the taking. his fingers are still clumsily pressing against your clit, but you're too gone to protest the overstimulation. too weak to tear his hand away.

hongjoong curls over you when he gets close, trapping you in, teeth in your neck, huffing from his nose. his thrusts devolving into bunny humps and grinding his cock into your cunt. he's grumbling something, but it's muffled into your skin. he cums like that, with his cock burrowed inside you, filling you to the brim. possessive to the very end. he stops biting your shoulder a few moments later, “there, you're truly mine now. all mine.”

he doesn't let go until his breathing evens out and that gnawing urge to be close to subsides. you slump when he lets go, collapsing, leaking fluids.

hongjoong presses a wet kiss to your cheek, “don't worry they'll clean you up. i take care of what’s mine after all.”

[wabatle]

Blue Lock boys when you're on your period featuring: Reo, Rin, Bachira, Nagi can be read as either afab!reader or fem!reader warnings: everything that comes with having a period (obviously) like blood, pads/tampons, cramps, etc a/n: I'm on my period as I write this and it fucking sucks. lmk if you want a pt2 with more characters!

☆彡Reo Mikage

As soon as he figured out you got your period, he was all over you

Constantly asking if you were okay, if you needed anything, if you wanted to go home if you were out

Gets you the most high quality and expensive products 💀

Does so much research on what it is and how to take care of you

Genuinely will skip practice or important work (or other stuff he does) to stay with you

If you have bad cramps, he's insisting you stay home and in bed and he'll dedicate himself to taking care of you

Weirdly good at discrete spot checking. If you think you bled through your pants, he's got you.

He's especially careful to not hurt you because he knows you can get upset easily, and he might laugh a little bit if you're crying over something miniscule

You came out of the bathroom, a sickly expression on your face.

“Is it that time of the month?” Reo asked nervously.

“Yeah, that would explain why I felt so sick yesterday.” You mumbled.

“Here, come here,” he said, allowing you to crash into his arms, “I'll take care of you, baby.”

“Huuuh…” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“You okay, baby? Need any ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, probably…”

“Okay.” He kissed your head. “I'll go get some. I can also get your heating pad if you want it?”

“Yeah, thanks…”

“‘Course! I told you I would take care of you, babe. Now, go lay down. I'll be back in a sec.” He kissed your head.

☆彡Rin Itoshi

Also all over you, but in an indirect way

You're constantly on his mind, he's worried about you

As worried as he is about you, he would still choose to go to practice, but he'll stop somewhere on the way home to get you something, and he'll come home if you need him urgently

He buys you literally everything you need, pads, tampons, you name it, he'll go out and buy it

He doesn't change his behavior when you're on your period, but he does take notice to your intense reactions, like that time you starting sobbing hysterically after he told you practice was stressful and just wanted to go to bed (didn't have time for you)

He keeps a little “period emergency kit” with him at all times 🥺 he needs to make sure he can give you what you need just in case you're out in public and you need something

You and Rin were out to dinner and you had gotten your period the morning before.

“Ughh…” You mumbled, clutching your stomach.

“Cramps?” Rin asked quietly, as not to embarrass you.

“Yeah…”

“Here,” he said, pulling a heat pack out of the kit in his pocket, “go to the bathroom and put this on.”

“Rin…” You smiled, “Thanks, baby.” You took the pack and went to the bathroom.

When you got back, your food had already arrived.

“How is it? Do you feel better?” He asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“If you need anything else, let me know.” He added, leaning across the table to kiss your head.

☆彡Meguru Bachira

Another who's all over you… literally

He's really really worried when he sees you crying on the bed because of cramps, but he really doesn't know what a period is or what it does to you

Brings you tons and tons of snacks because he really doesn't know how to help you

If you don't stay over at his house, he's texting you all day. In the morning, before you go to bed, he's just making sure you're not dead!

Steals his mom's period supplies to give to you. It might not be the exact brands you like, but you appreciate the thought

Skips practice for you with the excuse that “it's that time of the month and you really need his help” but you're actually lying on the couch with a heating pad watching a movie

Bachira burst through the front door, carrying tons of snacks. “Hi baby!”

“Woah, you're home early. Welcome home!” You smiled from your spot on the couch.

“Thanks! I brought you tons of snacks!” He dropped the snacks on the table and plopped down on the couch, snuggling close to you. “I got out of practice thanks to your period!”

You giggled. “Don't thank it yet. I'll probably cry about it later.”

“Don't worry! I'll take care of you!” He said.

“Thank you, baby.” You kissed his cheek, making him giggle and kiss your lips back.

He got up and grabbed some snacks. “Let's watch a movie!”

“Ah, shouldn't we have dinner first?”

“Noo, you're on your period! I have to treat you well today!”

“And that means skipping dinner?”

“Do you want to skip dinner?”

“No, not really…”

“Then let's order takeout! What do you feel like having?”

☆彡Seishiro Nagi

Sooo tired, but he'll put up with you (he loves you so much)

He’ll hold you sooo tight while you're cuddling, and he'll keep playing his game

He tells you to relax in his arms and make sure you took your meds, and he'll want you to fall asleep while he plays his games

In his eyes, it just means he has to take care of you instead of the other way around, so he'll do the least he can do

Another one who would 100% use you as an excuse to get out of practice

Literally has a small bucket of pads, tampons, and other “period stuff” on a shelf so he can just grab it without getting up

If he notices you're more emotional as usual, he'll be like, “are you about to get your period?”

and then he'll mentally prepare himself for it

You had just dropped your water bottle, causing it to open and spill everywhere. You were crying.

“Don't worry about it, angel.” Nagi assured you, grabbing a paper towel to mop it up.

“I–I’m sorry… I–I didn't mean to…” You mustered through sniffles.

“Don't cry, baby.” He pulled you closer to him, resting your head on his chest. “I took care of it.”

You put your forehead on his chest, and he could feel your tears staining his shirt.

“Come on, angel. Let's go back to bed.”

“But it's 3:00 pm?”

“Doesn't matter. You need to take more meds anyway. It's been 6 hours.”

“Okay…”

He kissed your head. “Don't cry. It's a hassle.”

You playfully nudged him, already feeling better. “Well, you're my boyfriend, so you're obligated to take care of me.”

“Says who?” He asks, plopping down on the bed.

“Says me!” You giggled, plopping down next to him.”

He pulled you closer and pulled out his Switch.

[spacegyaru]

i can't take this edit off from my mind... i knew i have to write something about nagi 😭

cw: 18+ only! minors, dni pls! also, all characters are aged 21+. sexual themes ahead! also, mentions of alcohol and sm0king! / nagi as ur boy best friend (with benefits ;3) /also, he's a bit of a st0ner here so high s3x!

imagine nagi seishiro as your boy best friend who just wanna comfort you after a devastating breakup.

it wasn't supposed to happen like this. nagi was supposed to be your best friend. but it happened anyways.

you were so heartbroken after finding out that your bf cheated on you with another girl. you immediately broke up with him and you ended up crying and driving while on the way to nagi's house.

so you actually end up there. nagi saw you crying. your eyes were red and your cheeks were puffy.

nagi knew that your bf, now ex, is an asshole. but he's bad at feelings so he tells you something in between the lines of 'i told you so'.

you had a small argument with nagi but you tried to avert the topic by saying that you don't wanna talk about it. so nagi sighed and said that you could stay for the night while the both of you smoke and drink together.

so you started smoking some weed with him... it started off as just a small session between the both of you, with some strong beer involved of course. both of you were playing tekken while doing it.

somehow, while ranting about your ex, you said something in between the lines of 'he's not even good in bed' and boi you got his attention

you started saying things like 'his cock is too small', 'he can't kiss properly', 'it doesn't even hit the back of my throat', or 'he never made me squirt'...

now, nagi just looked at you weirdly. he asked you: "if he's gonna call you right now, are you going to pick up?"

of course, as a heartbroken girl, you didn't say anything at first... but you nodded and said "i'm sorry okay, i'm just a human..." before grabbing ur phone and checking if your ex texted

nagi rolled his eyes and tossed it on the bed. as you were trying to reach it, it caused you to fall on his lap.

well, for some reason, it started with doing a sh0tgun (sm0king thru the mouth)— then you ended up making out, not even minding the game anymore.

the clothes started to come off and eventually... both of you ended up fucking on his bed.

and that was the first time you actually felt good about it and orgasmed.

seishiro nagi flipped you in three fucking positions— and you can't even count how many times you came from his touch and from his cock.

the w33d even made the feeling better. nagi's touch felt sensual yet intense.

the morning after came and you realized what just happened. you looked at nagi with wide eyes and apologized, immediately putting on your clothes and running away. he was still half-asleep when you did this.

not gonna lie, the night felt so good and despite the w33d, you were still conscious. and fucking him was a fully-conscious decision. but you just didn't expect the aftermath to be so damn awkward.

that same night, your best friend, nagi called you— now, it's your choice to pick it up or not. 😉

okay guys im sorry for edging yall again but i might make pt. 2 for this too— im currently finishing the pt. 2 for kaiser's story 😌

[grim333z]

i saw the bag of bones fan fiction u wrote and it was so good holy shit I was wondering if u could make a Carl x reader but it's like the song “Scott Pilgrim vs the world ruined a whole generation of women” it's so good imo and it's lowkey a bit relateable if ur comfy with it😓😓

[I looked at the lyrics and read into them a little but I think I might have changed the meaning a little however hopefully this is what you had in mind :) ]

DYEING-

Carl x gn!reader tw:  mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts, angst (pls lmk if i missed anything!)

"Bright dyed hair but dead inside."

"When did you do that?" You hear his voice before anything else. He'd grown to realise the volume of his footsteps didn't typically help when following you out into the middle of the woods.

You'd never been too sure of him. He was far too interested in you, given there was about five other teenagers to talk to... yet he made the time for you.

"do what? you turn too look at him, tilting your head at him as he leans against one of the thick dark oak trees that were scattered throughout the heavy forest which lined the outside of the Alexandria safe-zone. "You're all blue now." He smiles slightly.

Carl never really knew where you got all the dye from, part of him guessed your trips over the wall usually wound you up in that heavily run down hair salon, beside the apothecary. He glances down at your faintly blue tinged fingers, hovering over the deep brown leather coated handle of your hunting knife. 

"Why do you give so much of a fuck about what I'm up-to, Carl?" You state, like you're angry, in reality you're a whole lot of not a lot.  Though it was mildly annoying having some guy you weren't even close to weirdly infatuated with your every little move. "There's not exactly a whole lot to do around here." Carl states, his fingers tapping against the handle of his gun sitting in its holster, a nervous tic you'd notice him doing in your involuntary time spent around him. 

"Don't you have Enid?" You question, your expression writhing with sarcasm, you'd seen him prancing around the community with his silly little girlfriend. "Enid's alright, I guess." He hums, eye's firmly fixed on you. "And I'm sure Ron or Mikey won't mind you hanging out with them." He sighs in response to your words, "I'm sure they won't." He scoffs, he'd already gotten the feeling that Ron was iffy about him, and sure he liked Enid, but she was intense and hard to read at the best of times. 

"Go play video games or read whatever shit you usually read. leave me be, Carl."

 "I'm not gonna do that." Carl states, flicking the stray bits of hair off of his face, his deep blue eyes holding an unusual sense of knowing, like he's read you like a damn book, and too your knowledge he probably had, he manged to figure Enid out; albeit only surface level. He has a strange way of just figuring people out. Despite his age he's a incredible judge of character. 

"I don't need you worrying about me, or being all up in my shit. " You huff, turning to walk off, before you falter as he calls out, "I do worry about you, though." He coos, his voice unusually comforting and holding a weird sense of realness. Any adult who'd ever tried to comfort you never sounded so real in their words, always seeming fake. Like if they tell you everything is gonna be just fine, every urge you ever had will simply disappear and you'd forget whatever hell this new changed world had put you through.

"Why...? You hardly know me." You pause, typically you'd avoid these types of conversations via any means necessary but today, now, you can't fathom the idea of dismissing him. 

"You remind me of myself, if I'm being honest." He hums, his voice growing quieter as he finds himself feeling the need to become vulnerable with you. "You're acting how I did just after i lost my mom." He states, his nervous tapping growing faster and more anxious. 

You wrinkle your brow at him, "What? Acting like what." You state, before cringing internally at how cold you'd been, especially after he'd admitted something so personal to you. "Sorry, I'm just-" "I know." he nods, "It isn't safe out here, will you come back with me? please?" 

Your gaze drifts to the ground; despite Carl's urging for you to head back inside, where he knows you're less likely to wind-up dead or dying, you can't will yourself to leave the quiet solace of the woods. Sure they were dark and lonely and you came back littered with scrapes and bruises nearly every time but hell they were a space to just be. Be with your aching, it was stupid but embracing the numbness, becoming one with it, made it easier to deal with. Carl's asking for you to retreat inside the walls was also asking you to get your shit together and stop letting it take over. 

"Staying bitter doesn't fix anything." He scoffs, acknowledging your self-destructive behaviour, feeling like he's almost looking in a mirror back at himself, he'd done the exact same at some of the lowest points in his life. 

"Staying bitter has kept me alive." You spit.

"Staying bitter is gonna get you killed, and it'll be no ones fault but your own." He looks at you, his gaze utterly oozing with a strange resentment, he had to drag himself out of the whole he dug himself into. Watching you be offered a hand and deny it, irks him. "You and I both know what you're doing is stupid and will get you nowhere." He spits, "I can't leave someone with the knowledge they're in this state."

"If you've dealt with it then you know how its like, Carl, go back." You spit and you swear he almost snarls at you, it's nothing, a mere twitch of the upper lip. 

"I killed a man- a boy, because I was stupid and dumb and angry, and I let myself wallow in it." Your face drops, you try and will yourself to draw your knife or run but you can't, you're utterly unsure on how to process his words, you'd never killed, but the thought that you could, the thought that you weren't far off the mindset where pulling the trigger was as simple as taking a breath. Shit did it scare you.  

"I had to pull myself out of it because I didn't want another dead kid on my mind, and shit I think about him daily, and I think about how damn easy it was." 

You meet his eyes, "You don't want that on your mind." He states, as you walk towards him. 

"I'll come back." You whisper tentatively. 

[ronearoundblindly]

Ro! I’ve been on a mint chocolate chip ice cream kick lately, and it makes me wish I could share a pint with a babe (that’s also probably very much the pre period hormones, but anywayyy) which ice cream flavor do you think you would associate with each of the babes? Their favorite flavor and/or personality trait-wise.

Mint chip is my favorite, too! \o/ I don't get to eat ice cream much, but this was interesting to think about. I will try not to project onto the babes, though, only their pure likes maybe...

Oh snap! I can use the banner again!!! (All characters I've ever written for below.)

James Mace - Neapolitan

When this guy indulges (very rarely), he can't decide on just one flavor, so the easiest thing to do is get multiples. If he can go to a shop where you order by the scoop, he'll ask whoever is behind the counter what the popular or new or their faves are and try three of those. Mace, I believe, can pack away some ice cream.

Curtis Everett - Birthday Cake or Cotton Candy

The sickliest sweet things are a delight to Curtis. He's never gotten over how bland and boring and miserable the food of his childhood was. He goes nuts for sugar overload, but in intensity of taste, not in volume.

Jimmy Dobyne - Peach

Fruity, refreshing, creamy, and just screaming to add a dirty joke onto the end of it, Jimmy will use any excuse to sneak a double-entendre into polite conversation with a pretty lady. "Your peaches taste the sweetest..." Yeah, dessert is more about flirting than it is about eating. Ice cream is nice in the heat, however, so it's a great date option.

Johnny Storm - Cookies & Cream

With extra cookie crumbles and caramel sauce on top, he'll demand. Sprinkles, too, if you have it. Maybe some gummy worms or cereal. At least, like, five cherries. Oh! Also preferred that it be hard frozen when he starts eating so that it's not soup halfway through his rapid eating of it. The sensation of eating ice cream gets lost when he can barely tell it's cold.

Jake Jensen - Black Raspberry Chocolate Chip

This flavor has everything (and yeah, ok, I am projecting a bit on this one, whatever). Jake likes a whole lot of flavors and textures; he's actually not picky at all. He does enjoy ~the hunt~ for this rarer find in all his travels because raspberry is a popular flavor--it's often a sorbet though--but it's not the most popular of the berry options. He also will try all of the crazy niche flavors at hole-in-the-wall places. Conversely, it is easier to work while not holding a bowl or cone, so Jake loves a good milkshake or malt. Those he can sucked down like air.

Lloyd Hansen - Mint Chocolate Chip

My theory is this man is obsessed with fresh: fresh food, fresh sheets, fresh intel, fresh meat. Bet you his lip balm is always, only mint, too. Very classic. Very pristine. Fresh. Sweetness with a purpose.

Ari Levinson - Butter Pecan

Fine, I'm projecting again, idec, but you can't tell me Ari isn't this kind of old soul who loves not-overly-sugary treats! You cannot change my mind. That guy loves the crunch of candied pecans in there, he freaking lives for that rounded slightly-savory sweet cream flavor, and he loves that it's widely available but never sold out anywhere. Easy!

Ransom Drysdale - Coffee

And it's weirdly been that way since he was too young of a kid to drink coffee? Turns out, this was the flavor his father got but told Ransom he wasn't old enough for, he wouldn't like it. Of course, Ran immediately ordered two scoops of it in a chocolate dipped sprinkle cone, and while he may not have been totally keen on it in that exact moment, coffee-flavor grew on him. He loves it as much as he loves all of the other behaviors that say "f*** you" to his parents.

Steve Rogers - Rocky Road

Created during the Great Depression, this ice cream was shared between Steve and his Ma quite a few nights when he was too sickly to go out but needed a pick-me-up. Bucky enjoyed it with him, too, but it's not his favorite. Steve tends to really enjoy eating only when there's nostalgia attached to the food.

Bucky Barnes - Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter

Rich, velvety, and made slightly different by each company. Sometimes Bucky wants ribbons of fudge and the tiny pb cups mixed in; sometimes he wants full-blown chocolate ice cream with peanut butter swirled in. Can't go wrong. Only good, heavy, decadent happiness vibes.

I am...stunned at how confident I feel in these choices HA!

Thank you for asking!

[etirabys]

the relief of giving up on 81k's fancy instant pot I'm too stupid to use and buying a $26 rice cooker with one button rivals that of going for a cigarette after a grueling 3h CS exam in college

I was unnecessarily dramatic about this decision because I'd imbued my ability to use this instant pot with a moral dimension & my failure felt like a rout in the cosmic battle of good and evil. last week I said "I want a dumb rice cooker again", angrily, 15% of the way to tears

81k goes, "you can do what you want", looking confused by the intensity of my self hatred

I used to think "I hate this object but I will simply conquer it with my mind". but the whole lid needed to be disassembled for cleaning each time, the plastic bit you toggle to vent steam felt weirdly flimsy and gave me a sense of unease about the machine as a whole given the pressures, the button sequence to do something as simple as "cook rice" was unintuitive, and you know what? the buttons didn't fucking feel good to push!

they were barely protuberant plastic shells with no aural or tactile feedback when pushed. You don't know if you entered a sequence that's going to do anything until you successfully complete such a sequence, and then it deigns to beep at you I was going nuts trying to establish a bond with this thing

[owlbelly]

okay i seem to be gradually leaving the ~24hr period of temporal lobe hell i was just in, so i kind of want to write a little bit about what i'm calling "deja vu panic attacks" in case it's useful to anyone else who follows me. i don't know if there's a real term for this phenomenon somewhere - searching for the symptoms turned up a lot of overlap with a particular type of epilepsy & while i'm 99% sure i'm not having seizures (i had a student with this kind of epilepsy so i've seen them happen! it's pretty different), it was making me feel worse to keep reading all that, so. "deja vu panic" it is

my particular blend of depression/anxiety/PTSD (+ neurodivergence?) comes with very occasional dissociative episodes - mostly derealization & depersonalization, but i definitely think this deja vu panic thing falls into a dissociative category too. weirdly it's only happened to me twice, once back in 2019 & again just now. this is how it goes: i'm minding my own business going about my regular life (encountering no identifiable triggers) then suddenly i'll have the overwhelming sense that i either dreamed this exact moment or lived it in a past i've somehow returned to, which is combined with instant & total emotional certainty that i am doomed. sympathetic nervous system immediately flushes my body with so much adrenaline & cortisol that i feel cold/sick/dizzy/numb. once the acute "deja vu" moment has passed i'm left with a lingering sense of unreality & dread, like my perspective on my entire life has just shifted horribly & i don't know if i'll ever feel normal or be who i was before this ever again. the acute attacks just continue to happen over a period of hours - in 2019 i only had 2 attacks a few hours apart & started to feel normal after ~12 hours, but this time i had 5 acute attacks over a period of 12 hours & am only approaching normalcy after 24. i don't know what to make of that BUT here's what seemed to help:

physical comfort from & verbal interaction with loved ones. this includes cats. thank you cats for purring, thank you Jules for chatting with me, thank you Laurel & Jey for hugging/talking/letting me cry on you.

unusual/unexpected tactile sensations. a lot of the shit people are supposed to do for dissociation doesn't work for me because i'm a vivid dreamer who experiences nearly every sensation while i'm sleeping, so if i feel like i'm in a dreamlike state, naming 3-5 regular things i can see/touch/hear/taste is just not cutting it. however! something weird or intense is useful if trapped in the deja vu state. for example today Laurel dropped an ice cube down my fucking shirt because they rightly suspected it would jolt me (they asked first). it did!

radical acceptance of being in hell. okay hear me out. i noticed in between attacks that sometimes i would start to feel the deja vu coming on & if i turned towards it in my awareness (like "oh what's that? do i remember this?") i would move right into panic, while if i avoided it ("nope! distraction time") i could stave it off for a while but eventually it would catch up with me and i'd panic again. surprisingly, one side effect of being worn down by 12+ hours of this cycle was that i started to feel it coming & instead responded with "yup. that feeling. that's how we feel now. it's horrible" which amazingly led to NOT PANICKING. not panicking over a period of hours eventually led to not feeling so fucking dissociated, which appears to be leading to normalcy??

like, even as i'm writing this & rereading parts of it, i still feel pretty strongly that all this has happened before - everything feels familiar, but it's NOT feeling like i'm going to die or like my life is about to be horribly changed. i'm taking that as progress & hoping that tomorrow i don't even feel the deja vu anymore

as for "why did this happen" - i have no fucking idea. did i just get back from a very stressful trip? yes. am i anxious about the state of the world? always. but it's like my brain just spins a wheel where the options are various kinds of stress response & this one is an extremely tiny but outrageously horrible sliver of that wheel. love that for me!!!

[whentherewerebicycles]

ok gonna journal a little bit about the first six weeks under the cut, with the caveat that i know a lot of people who have babies under one year old right now or are about to have babies, all of whom are having or will probably have different experiences than me. i feel weird talking about parenting in public because i don't want it to seem like i'm comparing experiences. i just want to write through it for myself to make sense of my own experience, i guess?? must reflective journal or i can't consolidate my own impression of what's happening haha.

some scattered thoughts:

it's a LOT of work. having good routines and practicing them a lot has helped make it feel more manageable, but it's absolutely a full-time or really more than full-time job (round the clock care!!). i cannot imagine going back to work while caring for a newborn. i am really really really really lucky to have six months of protected time (four and a half months of it paid!). but it's still a little scary to think about going back to work at six months... like how will there be enough hours in the day??

time passes SO weirdly with a newborn. i literally never know what day it is and i often have no sense at all for how long it's been since something happened. i can't believe i've been off work for six weeks... it feels like i've been away for six months and also simultaneously like i gave birth six days ago. i also totally get what people mean about developing amnesia around the newborn phase... i already am having a hard time remembering when certain things happened or when he made certain transitions.

my transition to parenthood was a little rough because of the hand pain + the wrist surgery, but it was massively, massively eased by having an easy, non-traumatic birth experience + then having my mom here to handle nights for the first three and a half weeks (with help from my sister too). like ultimately i think the wrist stuff was a blessing in disguise because it meant i HAD to rest and rely on other people. i went into parenthood with such a massive sleep deficit from two months of excruciating pain but then i was able to more or less sleep through the night for two solid weeks after the surgery. i think that meant 1) i got a lot of much-needed rest and was able to recover from birth faster, but also 2) i wasn't the person who had to deal with the most intensely fragmented phases of newborn sleep. my poor mom! but gosh what an incredible gift that was. i am sleep deprived and tired but i am not absolutely wrecked and it's 100% because she handled the most labor-intensive phase of keeping a little baby alive.

i think i have a pretty easy baby. he sleeps well (i mean after the first few harrowing weeks where they are somehow simultaneously asleep at all times and incapable of sleeping), eats well, and doesn't mind being alone in his crib for quiet time. i fully expect that if this particular phase is easier for me there will be much harder phases that are easy for other people... like probably he will be a baffling nightmare at some other phase other people's kids navigate with ease. but i'm enjoying this phase of things feeling semi-manageable. i also feel like, even though i read one million baby books beforehand, i basically did not do anything to get these results. i just got this (for now?) easygoing baby who is pretty amenable to whatever happens to him. it reminds me of what my mom has said about raising us... three of us were really easy and then my brother was the clingiest, loudest, most emotionally volatile, impossible-to-soothe, bad-sleeping little baby of all time, and my mom was just like yeah. really cures you of thinking you've got it all figured out! really makes you realize that 90% of it is just the baby's temperament and it has virtually nothing to do with how capable you are as a parent! i just want to remember this in case i do this again and the next kid is like my brother haha.

my therapist says some people get postpartum blues right away and others get a big surge of protective happy hormones that start tapering off around month three (so their postpartum blues come later). i suspect that i got the surge of happy hormones because often i am just walking along with a Song in My Heart and that feeling of 'i am overflowing with joy!!' that reminds me of the endorphin waves i get when i'm exercising a lot. so maybe things will abruptly start feeling a lot harder when this wave of hormones dissipates, and then i will have to weather that. but for now it is nice to feel really baseline happy/joyful even when i'm tired.

it took a bit longer to bond with him than i expected! for the first three weeks or so i was like, well this baby is beautiful and perfect, but also, he could just be anybody's beautiful perfect baby, you know? i liked him as a baby and was interested in him as a little guy living in my house but i did not experience an intense surge of maternal feelings at first sight or anything like that. and sometimes when he was extremely fussy or when i was really tired of taking care of him i was like aaaa great now i just have to be responsible for him forever?? he's a nice little baby but forever???? anyway i feel like it's only in the last couple weeks that i've started to feel more strongly that this is MY beautiful and perfect baby. and it's become increasingly fun and joyful to think about like oh! we just get to hang out for the next 18+ years! i get to be his mom forever! we are a little family now!

i want another one... i want another little baby... i am going to have to really scheme and save and hussle at my side jobs to make it happen, and i am very conscious of the biological window closing. i would ideally like there to be a larger gap between them (like i think in a perfect world he would be 5 when i had a second baby) but i don't think i will have the luxury of that much time. so i think i am going to wait the recommended 18 months and then start the process again. idk we will see how things feel once he is in daycare and i am strapped for time and $$ but i would sure like to do this again. and i would really like to give him a sibling. we'll see.

i just love him... i love snuggling with him... i love watching him look around at stuff... i love taking him to new places and seeing him take it all in... i love watching my friends and my family snuggle him and joke around with him... i love singing to him and watching him go from shrieking to totally relaxed just because someone's singing to him... i love lying in bed after i've put him down for the night and watching him sleep on the video monitor... i love feeling responsible for him and knowing that it's my job to take good care of him... i love watching him in the car seat mirror as he listens to taylor swift with a calmly contemplative expression on his face... i love seeing his little personality emerging... gosh! i just like this little snuggly guy who lives in my house. i like him a lot.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Hey I just read your answer about bad writing in dark romance ! Do you have some well-written dark romance to recommend to us ?

Yes!

I'll add a caveat: like I said lol, I'm really not into torture porn dark romances, so Haunting Adeline-type books aren't my thing. But I feel like they've become considered dark romances? Whereas my understanding is more along the lines of how the Fated Mates episode explained it. It's not just the hero or heroine's morality--it's also the world in which they live, the comfort of sitting in amorality, etc.

Soooo I'd recommend--

King's Captive by Amber Bardan. I really need to read more of Amber, tbh. This one begins with the heroine at her birthday party, at which point the hero has killed practically everyone there, her father included. He then sweeps her off to his private island, and we have a years-long time jump. It's got a very eerie atmosphere. Super intense and verrry sexy (he notably gives her a mixtape that she masturbates to and stands on the other side of the door KNOWING she's masturbating lmao). Insane twist, very violent, a lot of weirdly sensual descriptions of how he cooks steak?

Kresley Cole's Gamemaker series I'd recommend in general. The first two books are very Russian mafia-angled (especially the first) and the third is like... affiliated, but it's not mafia. The heroes are intensely possessive, the heroines actually fight back, etc. I've compared The Master to Kresley's PNR Lothaire, which... I'd argue that several IAD books overlap with dark romance, lmao (Dreams of a Dark Warrior, Lothaire, and MacRieve come to mind). But because The Master doesn't have the vampiric element, instead you have a guy keeping a woman captive because he thinks she's trying to baby trap him, chastity belt included.

Mila Finelli's Kings of Italy series. Italian mafia. The third book especially is on the darker side to me, as it probably has the highest amount of dubcon. The heroes are all murderers, there's a good bit of torture, defiant heroines (and an m/m assassin/target romance).

Run, Posy Run by Cate C. Wells. Italian-American mafia. The hero is in this situationship with the heroine that honestly isn't even good for her at all lmao, and is sent a video of her cheating on him. She assumes he's going to murder her and goes on the run... and then he finds out that the video was doctored. I mean, it's a softer touch, but still pretty dark.

Anne Stuart wrote dark historical romances--A Rose at Midnight is honestly one of the darkest books I've read. Intensely horrific Reign of Terror content. A really, really horrible (in a good way) hero. Tons of trauma. TW TW TW TW for like, murder, dubcon, noncon, near-suicide, violence on and off the page... It's dark.

Then of course... Sierra Simone. Some people categorize New Camelot as dark; I'd say it's very VERY high stakes, but I wouldn't necessarily call anyone involved horrible enough in the main trio to be dark. It has a lot of dark points, but I don't know if it's dark romance.

However, her Ivy Leavold series and her Molly O'Flaherty books skirt towards dark historicals, and I would say that Thornchapel is definitely dark, on the Gothic side. It's basically like... a pseudo-magical (light magic) series that feels a lot like Donna Tartt's The Secret History, but with orgies, and rituals, and that One Taboo That Romance Very Rarely Crosses. (Yes. THAT one.) Nobody's truly evil, but a lot of people are very fucked up, and it has some scenes that are downright Midsommar-y.

I would also say that while Salt Kiss didn't feel like a dark romance to me, Honey Cut definitely put us in that space lmao. She ramped up in a BIIIIIG way. Like. That book had one of the darkest consensual sex scenes I've ever read (and I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVED it). Just some really twisted relationships and high stakes. Which again. LOVE. Everyone read Sierra Simone!

[aidenlyons]

Aiden doesn't have a whole lot to move in, just a few boxes really. The rest of his furniture won't be delivered until the next day. But he can at least show Tony his new place.

A: Thanks for helping me.

T: What're friends for? This place is pretty sweet. The light is amazing.

A: That's what sold me on it.

T: I hope you're happy here, despite.. everything.

A: I will be.

A: Besides, if it gets to be too much, I'll just crash with you for a few days.

T: Damn straight. I'll make sure to get a sofa with a bed, just in case.

A: Just make sure it's somewhat comfortable, huh?

T: Nah, I'm gonna make you sleep on a lumpy mattress.

T: Seriously, you good?

A: I'm going to be. It's the next chapter. I gotta see where it takes me.

T: Ok. I'm just a phone call away.

A: I know. Go on, get out of here, you'll miss your bus.

A: Call me when you get settled in San Myshuno.

T: I will. Alright, no chick flick moments. Good luck, Aiden.

A: Ok, ok. You too.

With that, Tony returns home for a few days before her own move and Aiden is left to unpack and hopefully meet the rest of his housemates.

It doesn't take long for Aiden to meet some of his new neighbors. The first he meets is Alfonso Wolff who is probably around his age.

"Hey man, I'm Alfonso. My boyfriend and I are at the end of the hall, furthest from you. And speaking of..."

Alfonso introduces him to his boyfriend, Skylar Kilgore. Clearly protective over his boyfriend, but polite.

"Nice to meet you, Aiden. Welcome to the house. Al and I have been here for a year. Jayce is a good landlord, don't worry."

The next one to introduce himself is Kory Saavedra.

"So you're Aiden."

He's a bit unfriendly and for a minute Aiden doesn't understand.

"I'm Kory. I'm on the football team with your ex. Shitty thing you did, man."

Ah. That explains it. Guess Jake needed someone to talk to.

A: I thought football players had to stay in the dorms?

K: That's just first years. Besides, me and my roommate's dorm got shut down. Asbestos or some shit. School put us up here.

A: ... Oh. Sorry.

Aiden clearly isn't going to get along with Kory.

Al: Ah-hah. Sorry, Kory's kinda intense. Think we're just missing Jarod.. in the middle room. Has some job with computers. We don't see much of them.

A: I'll keep that in mind, and I'll try not to annoy any of you.. I'm a pretty quiet person myself, and I'm kind of an artist.

S: Al, you forgot about Kory's roommate, Elias.

Elias? Surely that's a coincidence? Not the Elias that Aiden knows?

A: Elias? Not Elias Anderson?

S: Yeah, you know 'im?

A: Weirdly, yeah. I went to high school with him. He used to live in my apartment building. Small world.

And of course there's Jayce Lockett, their landlord and owner of the house. A firefighter, he keeps an odd schedule and is often gone for days at a time, but they all have his phone number to leave him a message if need be.

Aiden has difficulty in new places. The new sounds, sights. He wakes before dawn the first full night after his furniture is delivered, and stares at his old couch, wondering...

"I hope Jake is sleeping well."

[winterandwords]

Favourite novel tag

The original post from @unhingednovelist says share a little about your favourite novel of all time! give us some reasons why you love it, ramble on for a bit. i am going to ramble, so go absolutely feral about it. i don't mind. i don't think anyone else does either.

Thanks to @reamous23 for tagging me in this one!

I'm absolutely horrible at choosing favourites. I always have at least five things that fall into that category, and the best I can do here is to narrow it down to two.

📖 Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis

I've loved everything Bret Easton Ellis has written, but Less Than Zero just hit me in a way very few other books ever have. There's a detached cruelty and pervasive moral bankruptcy to it that I don't remember ever encoutering in any book I'd read before (I was definitely far too young to have read it when I read it) and I fell in love immediately. Welcome to baby's first transgressive literature, I guess.

I have a weakness for books that imperceptibly shift my perspective as I read. At the beginning I was shocked by things the characters said and did, but by the end I was encountering objectively far more harrowing concepts and just drifting through them. I mean??!! Fuck yeah. What excellent writing it is to be able to do that to someone's mind while they inhale what you've created.

If you've never read this but you've seen the film, the book is nothing at all like the film. Seriously. Do not read the book expecting the film.

📖 Life After God by Douglas Coupland

Because apparently my favourite authors are mostly queer Gen Xers with a fucked up but weirdly poetic worldview FOR SOME REASON. I've loved everything I've read by Douglas Coupland as well, but Life After God got me in the feels so strongly and precisely.

Coupland has this intensely sharp and achingly beautiful observational writing style and a way of pulling out small details that get wedged in my brain forever.

There's a description of a nuclear explosion in Life After God that almost exactly mirrors a recurring nightmare I've had since forever. That kind of broke me a little bit, in the way that things do when you realise how shared, how collective, people's fears are and how some people know exactly how to put them into words.

📖 Honourable mentions...

Pretty much everything by Bret Easton Ellis and Douglad Coupland

Actually, pretty much everything by Thomas Harris too

Fight Club and Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

The Catcher in the Rye by J D Salinger

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

I'm leaving this as an OPEN TAG and inviting anyone who wants to do it to @ me so I can see your faves 💜

[fairy-mewmew]

What Do I Want?

Hi!

I finished massage school a little while back and scheduled my exam for today. I gave myself 2-3 weeks to study, but could only bring myself to study a little bit. I was so overwhelmed with the time crunch and making my own money, that I terrorized myself into a anxiety stun. The week of the test, all I could do was lay in bed and play video games to ignore the dread I felt towards taking the exam. It's super expensive and I felt like it would have been a waste to not take it. Right about 30 hours before the test I realized something:

I'm not ready or confident in my knowledge in the material covered in the exam. So I paid the fee to reschedule.

I felt such an intense release when I did this, like everything was going to be okay and it really reconnected me to my spirituality weirdly enough. The next available day I could do was in late July, so now I have all this time to prepare. And with that space in my mind, I reflected on why I was so obsessed with getting my license so fast and I came to a conclusion:

I did this for my mom and the pressure to get the license quickly weighed heavily on me. I wasn't getting the license for myself, I was getting it to appease my mom.

And while I love massaging, I started going to school mainly to help my family out because they were planning on opening a massage place without a plan and I was worried about them failing. But honestly, why is it my issue that they constantly start a business without thinking about all the logistics? They just meet a random person, get inspired, and start a business without hesitation. They barely know how credit works and they just go ahead and do whatever they want. In a way, I envy them for having such conviction in what they do. Regardless, no matter how crazy their idea is, they run with it, and I'm always pressured to go along. They can pressure me all they want, but god forbid I ask them for help with my business. They always tell me they don't have time for me because they don't see my work as lucrative or worthwhile.

I feel like this is where all my insecurity comes in when I work on my business. For years, I've worked hard reformatting my business, my products, and my presentation. I want everything to be absolutely perfect. I get obsessed with money and no matter how many customers I get or how much money I get, I never truly feel grateful. In the back of my head, all I hear is my family telling me how stupid my business is and how I'm never going to really make money with it. I can only work on my business for a few weeks before I get overwhelmed with fear and anxiety, and just give up. Yet, no matter how hard I try to give it up, I just can't. My business is so important to me and embodies everything that is important to me.

I love my religious and spiritual practice. I love all the ways the divine can be perceived. I love the way nature call to us. I love the way different spirits take their forms and interact with the living world. I love the way nature sing. I love the way people find themselves and express it. I love being me and I love helping people by being me.

I love massage and it brings me joy to do. I'm good at it and it makes good money, but it is not my heart's calling. Spirituality, art, creative self expression; those are my true passions. What sticks with me throughout all these years. All the things I ever loved ever since I was little are all here in my business.

Now that I've come to terms with how I feel, I've taken a shift in my direction. I will still study and take the exam, but it's a ways away. I want to start treating my business like a job, as my boyfriend has blessed me by financially supporting me. I hope to continue sharing my feelings here and I hope to soon share my business as well. I constantly have so many ideas as to what I want to do, but I think now is the greatest time for me to truly take action. It's time I start actually believing in myself and what's truly important to me.

I am a creative witch who has so much love to offer to the world and I fully embrace that as fact.

[helloandwelcometomariasblog]

Review #111: Hyena (Ep 1)

Okay.

I need to take some deep breaths before I begin writing this review. I must refrain from hyperventilating. I must remind myself to breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

It's 1:49am right now. I stayed up until midnight finishing off one of my assignments, had a shower, and, like always, decided to watch something while drying my hair and getting ready for bed.

A light switch flickered in my head. Hyena. I'd been wanting to watch that ever since... yesterday. That's right. It hasn't been long at all. However, there is something else that has lasted much, much longer than that.

My weirdly intense attraction to Joo Jihoon.

Let me, just let me elaborate a little bit further on this. You know I don't keep any actors in my mind longterm. I'm a singer lover, and I fall for voice and personality way, way over simple appearance and acting ability. I don't like "characters" longterm, and no actor's personality or voice have ever kept me lingering. I definitely had phases though, and some of the phases I can distinctly remember are people like Lee Jongsuk and Park Bogum.

However, Joo Jihoon is different. It's going to take me a while to explain the intricacies of these thoughts and feelings, but hey, it's only 2:05am and I have places to go and things to do tomorrow, so of course I'm going to continue elaborating, right?

The first time I saw him was on Goong. I absolutely loved that drama as a teenager. I remember reading the manhwa too. Funny story though, back then, I preferred the second male lead over Joo Jihoon. Hah. My preference has surely changed now. I'm just going to be straight-forward. It changed ever since I fell for my ex boyfriend. It changed ever since I fell in love with him.

Simply put, Joo Jihoon reminds me of my ex boyfriend. And I was insanely attracted to my ex boyfriend. Insanely. This isn't my diary so I won't give too many details, but every time I came across a Joo Jihoon picture or video after having started to date my ex boyfriend, my heart would almost automatically swoon, just because they held a similar atmosphere. I remember this one date where we went on a trip and took a walk in one of the well-known sights of that specific town. I took some photos of him and he looked so attractive, I honestly said out loud, you look like Joo Jihoon. I wonder if he remembers that. I hope he thinks Joo Jihoon is as attractive as I think he is, so that that memory is a positive memory for him.

But come on. Who wouldn't think Joo Jihoon is attractive? He's been attractive ever since I saw him on Goong. I can't remember if I watched anything else of him after Goong, but I know that I did watch Kingdom a few years back. I feel like watching that all over again. Wow, I just skimmed through his filmography and I really haven't seen much of his work. Does that confirm the hypothesis that my intense attraction to this guy is mostly from the way I felt about my ex boyfriend..?

Anyway. Regardless of everything, Joo Jihoon suits this character immensely. He is Yoon Heejae, and Yoon Heejae is him. Yoon Heejae's hairstyle, the clothes he chooses to wear, the way he speaks, walks, acts, even the way he falls in love - everything about him is so well brought to life by Joo Jihoon. I think the casting is perfect. I know this to be true because currently a new Joo Jihoon drama is playing on TV (with Jung Yumi) and he really does not suit that character. Every time I see shorts on YouTube or happen to watch a scene while walking into the lounge area of my grandfather's house, I have to refrain from gagging. The story, the characters, they all suck.

Listen. Joo Jihoon should never be playing a character that is innocent, shy, and acts like a novice when it comes to life or love experience, or interacting with women. Joo Jihoon is perfect for characters that are sexy, charismatic, confident, experienced, silently strong on the outside while being soft and fragile on the inside. Watching him grow curious of Geumja (Kim Hyesoo) and so, so softly fall in love with her was almost too much for my heart to handle. The workaholic and successful lawyer who looks and acts like the kind of man who would never fall for just any woman and, even if he does find a woman attractive, would not commit seriously to her and take the relationship very lightly. That kind of man falling so hopelessly in love with this woman as though he is falling in love for the very first time. That is just so... fucking endearing.

Kim Hyesoo. We must talk about her. What I wrote just above all make sense only because it is Kim Hyesoo. The moment I saw her at the laundromat, my reaction was the same as Heejae's, and the more we saw of her, the more my reaction resembled Heejae's. That scene of her walking out into the rain. Coming back and asking for her book, her hoodie and parts of her fringe slightly wet. Those large, searching eyes of hers. Listen. Kim Hyesoo is just so, so charismatic. I don't think I can imagine any other female actor playing the role of the 여유로운 femme fatale-like, absolutely beautiful older woman that so naturally seduces Joo Jihoon and also fights it out with a yangachi. That fight scene was intense, and you know what I loved about it? The fact that the woman didn't miraculously smash the guy. The fact that Joo Jihoon didn't miraculously appear and smash the guy. I loved that they didn't use those cliches and actually made her fight for her life.

I felt so bad for Heejae when he realised that everything was fake. I could just imagine how devastated he must have felt, as though his entire world had just turned upside down (which the drama did very well, with the actual upside down depiction). Heejae had just lost both the case and the person he trusted to be his lover. Suddenly, all the memories, the love that they shared - all that was gone. It was nothing. How painful is that?

Lastly, before I go, I want to mention that I love the 어른 연애 vibe from the drama. I can no longer watch dramas where two adults spend ten episodes being all fluttery and shy and awkward. Let's be real. That's not what happens in Korea with adults of that age. I guess another drama that comes to mind that did the more realistic depiction really well was 밥 잘 사주는 예쁜 누나, with the way they showed the two of them beginning to date and the early stages of a couple.

It's time to sleep now. It's 2:44am. I need to somehow try to fall asleep. My mind so still so, so awake. I miss my ex boyfriend.

[d2sejanus--plinth]

Sitting like this, in bed, intertwined, with Coriolanus scattering sweet kisses on the crown of his hair, with his elegant, deft fingers stroking over his curls, it was heaven, it always was, and made him placid, softened him so much, warmth spiked in his chest and seeped, all over, to the tips of his fingers. He was ensconced in happiness, here in Coriolanus' arms. Even as he was suffering, too, the bite of his pain blunted with Coriolanus around him, being so affectionate, he was so sticky and so tender he knew that if anyone else saw him like this they'd probably think he was replaced with someone else. It was a side only he really saw anymore, and while he still felt so sad about Tigris growing distant, in a way he felt weirdly possessive over it, too, of being the only one to witness this side of his dear Coryo. How special he was. How wonderful Coriolanus was, to offer him this.

As they were talking, Coriolanus brought up how he might have been happier had they not met. Knife like pain twinged in his chest immediately, and his head whipped up to warn Coriolanus not to talk like that again, his voice was sharp, but soon enough it grew into a pathetic little murmur, emotions getting the best of him, and tears sliding down his cheeks. The thought of not knowing, not loving Coriolanus, not being with him, was nothing short of torture. A nightmare of proportions he couldn't even grasp. "I don't want to be without you," he reinforced, and their kissing was harsh, and desperate, he was ecstatic with Coriolanus responding with the same feverish intensity. It helped a bit, took the sting out of that imagined hellish scenario, and managed to redirect his attention, if only a bit. Even the thought of being without Coriolanus left him.. shaky. Unstable.

He needed to tell him, too, to reassure him, too. He knew Coriolanus worried as well. No, he would never leave. No, nothing but his death will stop his loving Coriolanus, and not even that. Coriolanus had to know, and he was going to keep repeating it. He mentioned that his death might be at the hand of someone else, or even at the hand of Coriolanus himself, and he was quite tranquil with that fact, with that possibility. It'd traced his mind, it hasn't lingered, no, but he knew the kind of man that Coriolanus was, he knew the man that he loved. Deeply, intimately. He looked up at Coriolanus when he asked for clarification on that, and his cheeks were still a bit shiny with his tears, but he was smiling now, a little, his arm over Coriolanus' waist, tight, snuggling further into his chest.

"I just know you're a dangerous man, my love. An important man. A wanted man. And you'll be even more so when you're president," his hand came up to caress lightly over his cheek, thumb brushing at his cheekbone, when, not if, when he'll become president, "if it happens.. maybe it happens out of desperation. Maybe we're running from something. I don't know. I haven't given it much thought. I'm not scared of it. I know it wouldn't happen because you wanted it to." But he could see if affected Coriolanus, and he was so softhearted, "You won't lose me, Coryo. You won't." His hand went into Coriolanus' hair, and his forehead creased when he heard him talk again, what he was talking about.

It was so raw, and it made his stomach ache. It brought on mixed feelings, Coriolanus' possessiveness and protectiveness always appealed to him, always, made him feel so wanted, so needed, so taken care of; but this sheer cruelty and the ease with which he talked about killing were bone chilling, too. It was so strange. So strange to love someone who could be so tender, and yet so deadly. So merciless.

"Nothing is going to happen to me," he reassured, leaned up for another, longer kiss, keeping Coriolanus' lip between his own a bit, gently, tipping his head for a more thorough kiss, warmth thrumming through him, "don't talk like that. I don't need you to kill anyone for me," but even that was a lie. Coriolanus had already killed for him, too, at least in part. Bobbin. Mayfair. Highbottom. Gaul. And there will be more. For him, for them. "I'm safe, with you."

Coriolanus listened silently as Sejanus spoke softly about all the things he could have done to make this miserable world right. Yes, he could have raged more against the Capitol and Ravinstill and the regime that was firmly ruling over Panem. But all it would have done was gotten him killed because in the end, even the Plinths fortune couldn't have saved him. Up until recently, even Coriolanus himself wouldn't have been in a position to save Sejanus. He had the Presidents ear but even he likely couldn't have convinced him not to kill someone labelled as a traitor to the Capitol. His heart ached at the thought of losing Sejanus, certain that he wouldn't be able to recover from such a loss. It was why he had written to Strabo all those years ago when they'd been out in 12, telling him to come and get his son. Sejanus' heart might have been in the right place but that sympathetic heart was going to get him killed and despite him once telling Sejanus that he wouldn't save him again, they both knew that he would. He peppered soft kisses against the top of his head, fingers stroking his curls so gently as he listened to him. He knew he could never get enough of having Sejanus close to him like this. Curled up as close as possible to one another, legs entangled. He took his hand in his an brought it up to his lips and brushed a soft kiss against his knuckles. He knew he was often the cause of Sejanus' pain, his positions as first GameMaker and now Head GameMaker and Head of the War Department causing conflict between them. He knew Sejanus had made it clear that he simply couldn't be against him and he was grateful for that. It would perhaps be their salvation because Coriolanus knew that overtime, these fights weren't going to end. If anything, they would only become more intense because Coriolanus already had his eye on the Presidents role. Not yet, it wasn't time. Sejanus knew this, they had spoken of it often and he wanted Sejanus at his side when he eventually took Office.

He looked down sharply as Sejanus head shot up and he was hissing at him to 'never say that again!'. He had known saying such a thing might bother Sejanus and yet, he couldn't help it. He knew that Sejanus life might be better if they had never met. If he had stayed out in the Districts and didn't have to cope with the lingering resentment and guilt he was drowning in still here in the Capitol. He wouldn't point out the truth of his words, because he could see the fire in Sejanus' eyes and then the tears that came with such an idea and he knew he would never say those words again. "Shh baby, I won't ever say it again. I can't live without you. I wouldn't want to live without you. Please don't cry. We're together. I'm here and I'm never going anywhere." He kissed him back with equal desperation, needing to just feel Sejanus as much as it appeared he needed to feel him. He loved Sejanus, so completely. He didn't want to think of a world without him. One where they'd never met. One where he had lost Sejanus, perhaps in that very arena that he designed now for others to live and die through the horrors he inflicted upon them. One where somehow they hadn't taken this step together and realised the truth depths of their feelings for one another, which had only grown in the years they'd been together since. He paused for a moment, glancing down at him as Sejanus made his declaration that only death itself would make him leave him. Perhaps that should be a comfort but his stomach tightened as Sejanus mentioned the possibility that he himself might kill him one day. Did he really think that was possible? That he would raise a hand against Sejanus and harm him with such finality? He was certain that Sejanus knew what he had gone to Highbottom and most recently to Gaul, but it wasn't something they had ever discussed. If Sejanus wanted to turn a blind eye, he couldn't begrudge him that. Besides, it only would have caused a fight between them and the less Sejanus knew, the better. If the Peacekeepers ever came knocking, he could deny all knowledge. "Do you really think there could ever be a possibility where I would kill you?" Coriolanus asked quietly, needing to know the answer. "I could never lose you Sejanus. You are my centre, my everything." He pressed his lips together, feeling the burn of tears at just the thought of Sejanus' death. He couldn't survive that. He wouldn't survive that. Sejanus was the centre of his entire world and if he wasn't there anymore, he knew he would spiral and eventually just collapse. Perhaps taking half of Panem down with him in his descent into madness. "If someone ever harmed a hair on your head, I would kill them. I would kill their family. I would flatten their fucking District to the ground." No one would be safe from his wrath. With Sejanus gone, whatever goodness that might linger within him would be buried for good.

[princescribbler]

YOUR DYNAMIC IS YOUR DYNAMIC: IT DOESN'T NEED TO FIT ANYONE ELSE"S IDEAS!

(Pre-emptive content warning: discussions of depression, fetishism, ABDL, D/s, fairly extreme Ageplay and regression dynamics, and broader power exchange dynamics)

It's often hard to explain to people what my kink dynamic looks like with my fiance/ partner/ mommy-domme @giggle-byte. Am I her little? Yes. 24/7 diapers? Absolutely. Do I wear a chastity cage most days, and follow detailed routines and rules? ABSOLUTELY! So do I feel like she's the only one in charge, I'm this completely regressed and controlled 'slave', and we're 24/7 D/s? Absolutely not, and I'll try to explain why a bit further below. But also... kind of yes? But not in the way people seem to think!

See, I've been into forced regression, unpotty training, pretty intense ABDL and MD/lb things for as long as I can recall. Heck, most of my dating history I was the daddy domme like 70% of the time or more, instead of like 10-15% in my current dynamic. So finding a full-time mommy-domme and lifelong kink partner would, in theory, result in extreme lifestyle changes. Sure, some happened...but nothing i didn't ask for, beg for, PLEAD for over years of my life. Nothing was done i didn't consent to, agree with, and even generally DESIRED to have! The point i'm trying to make is this: I expected a specific 'version' of what it meant to have a mommy-domme, and especially a 24/7 dynamic, and i was just...wrong! See, my dynamic is based on MY needs, not the ones my penis thinks of when it's hard, and not the ones i read about online. my needs are mine, and they don't necessarily MATCH the expectation online! So why bother getting my partner to give me detailed rules, give me structure, etc? because it WORKS FOR US, and IS WHAT I WANT! Why do I have a bedtime? Because i struggled with tiredness at work in the morning and thrive on routine. The chastity? Well, i had panic attacks around sex, and momma suggested at first it would take my mind off the idea of having to 'perform'. Soon, i liked the whole idea, the control, the teasing, the build up...but i also didn't like actually feeling denied, and frankly when we first started, i had a pretty low sex-drive....so weirdly, my amazing fiance @giggle-byte actually helped me 'regain' some of that sex drive, enjoy and embrace...via CHASTITY! And now, it's actually her who is the amazing, controlled, thoguhtful one who handles that for me. I can ask to lock, unlock, etc...but the truth is she knows what i can and can't cope with and gives it to me without me needing to ask! But it's NOT about denial...she unlocks me every day, with few exceptions. It's not about control: I have the key, a backup key, a third backup, even in play where i 'lock the key away' in a timer lock i genuinely can't get into...it's never off my keyring as a spare. The idea is the DYNAMIC is there...but the daily rules are more open, flexible, and based on our mutual desires and needs!

Every time we reassess our dynamic we run into this over and over. Too many online stories, too many fantasies, and not enough realistic reality or even modern and flexible dynamics crept into our expectations...and suddenly, we realized that we aren't doing a 24/7 ABDL and MD/lb (and switch DD/lg dynamic, though she's slightly more private about her little side) relationship the way anyone was expecting...but it was WORKING for us very well, DESPITE that?!

The point I'm trying to make is this; Your dynamic, relationship, and needs are YOURS and won't look like a cookie-cutter idea. For some people into MD/lb, they want chastity, denial, cock and ball torture, humiliation, degradation, and the like. For some, it's purely non-sexual, cute, and loving. For us...it's sometimes very flexible, but generally it's more focused on cuteness, structure, routine, and supporting us both in our mutually shared kinky desires!

To wrap this rant up: Let's go through a few quick examples of what the EXPECTATION of a dynamic like ours usually is, and then compare it to what MY relationship looks like. Expectation/archetype against the reality!

Chastity Expectation: to be locked, denied, teased, humiliated, left wanting and desperate or degraded or even cuckolded! My Dynamic/Chastity Reality: momma uses it like a sex toy, it's not required, it's a thing i only wear for a few hours most days, but i CAN feel the desire for more...and one wore it the better part of a month, without prior experience with that, and loved it!

Diapers 24/7 Expectation: Public humiliation against my will to forcibly infantilize, regress, and humiliate or control me! My Dynamic/Diaper Reality: It's my fucking kink, i CLEARLY enjoy it and momma helped me stop feeling ashamed and worried. in fact, it's not a profound comfort and sort of security-blanket.

Switch Relationship Expectation: To constantly swap roles, or to only stay in one role at a time, or to at the very least struggle with who is 'big' and who is 'little' at any given time. My Switch Reality: It's fluid, happens without a ton of effort (admittedly this took time to establish), i can be 'baby prince papi' while she's still my 'princess'...even if it's 'momma princess'. Our roles don't match the traditional expectations.

24/7 ABDL and MD/lb Expectation: A lifestyle of complete submission, regression, denial, control, humiliation, and sexual frustration in order to become more and more needy and desperate...Eventually usually implied to end in either permanent regression, cuckolding, etc. My 24/7 ABDL and MD/lb Reality: Basically just the fun parts of that, without sexual frustration, plus my sex drive went from 'once a week' to '3-5x a day' and has made me happier, healthier, more confident, cute, and self-accepting. Oh and i get all my kinky desires met, fulfill the love of my life's kinky fantasies, al while getting MORE sexy fun, MORE relaxation, and IMPROVED mental as well as physical well-being. You know...NOT what i was told I'd receive!

So fuck the idiots who demand you follow their idea of kink. Well, don't actually fuck them, they don't deserve it, but i mean....ignore and disregard them! You don't have to have a dynamic that fits any traditional guidelines, rules, etc. If you want to have a unique dynamic, CELEBRATE your uniqueness and finding someone who shares it with you! And for god's sake, don't expect each other to fulfil a role neither of you signed up for, ok? It's OK to have a fantasy and yet find the reality unpleasant, preferring to live in a gentler, nicer lifestyle. Give yourself permission to be unique, creative, and DEFINE your needs rather thna having them defined for you! I promise: it pays off in spades!

As always, stay happy, stay healthy, and stay kinky!

-Scribbler