#the raw shark texts

[skollmoth]

[the-last-teabender]

TBR time is here again! Three books read and reviewed, including a Doctor Who one for those of you who are into that sort of thing.

[ineffablebookgirl]

The Raw Shark Texts is the debut novel by British author Steven Hall, released in 2007. ... The novel is a work of Meta-fiction which uses Concrete poetry, linguistic jokes and cultural references. It is the story of an amnesiac re-discovering his past life through a surreal collection of clues he has left himself while evading a steampunk villain and the shark of the title.

Wikipedia

Good Omens characters... as sharks!!

[charl0ttan]

i wanna write in an lsd dream emulator style. little pastiches of dreamy depressive lonely nothing. i dont know if i find beauty in the feeling itself or in processing it. maybe both

[themapleleafdiaries]

my english essay is due today at 11:59 and i haven’t even finished an outline

[throwaway-settings]

9 and 14?

9. Best month for you this year?

HOO good question!! the second half of this year was ROUGH (broke my leg, moved out of a stressful home and into a house that needed. so so so many renovations, had to reschedule the move because of that, family health emergencies, you get the picture) but the beginning of this year was amazing. i travelled A LOT. Im caught between March, when i travelled to Wolfville and Canning in Nova Scotia for work, both places i had lived when i was young, and April, when i travelled to Halifax and Moncton on my own for the eclipse, and had an amazing time finding art and good food everywhere i could for a couple days. In the end I think April wins out, not even for the eclipse but for the experience of planning and executing a trip like that on my own.

14. Favorite book you read this year?

Im using this answer to specifically plug my current read, When its a Jar by Tom Holt, to you specifically, which i was going to do when i saw you tomorrow anyways. Its a fantasy about a normal guy in London who slays a dragon by accident and just generally seems completely determined to evade his destiny solely by wholeheartedly believing that he is Not A Hero. it is ALSO about a man who is trapped in a glass jar without his memories, who wakes up and works out the basics of the universe (gravity, time, the water cycle, what those things on the end of his legs are, etc), only for an entity to appear and inform him that whoops! you have an infection. and to treat this infection we have to take your memory away again. for the 248th time. 248th times the charm, though! its also about the multiverse. how these things all intertwine i am piecing together as we speak, but i am only about halfway through the novel right now. it reminds me both of discworld in that its an irreverent british fantasy deconstructing a basic concept of society (in this case Organizational Bureaucracy), and of the raw shark texts in that its doing something fucky with the idea of The Universe and what it means to inhabit and therefore become a part of it. HIGHLY recommend, if i finish it before i see you tomorrow you can borrow it!!

[bucklikethedollar]

boy oh boy do i have some life ruining books to recommend!!

i’ll start off with the most “normal” one: Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo. the story follows joe, an extremely relatable american everyman, after he gets blown up my a bomb in world war one. the explosion leaves him severely disfigured, resulting in him losing both legs, both arms, both eyes, his nose, ears, and his entire mouth. the whole book takes place in joe’s mind as he reflects upon what possible future he might have, his struggle to communicate with the doctors and nurses around him, and his profound rage at the american military. letting you know right now, this book is not for the faint of heart, it’s visceral and angry and touches something primal inside you like very few other books. expect to take breaks.

next up is Tender is the Flesh by Augustina Bazterrica. following a devastating worldwide pandemic, all animal meat is now extremely deadly to humans. instead of people becoming unanimously vegan, though, governments across the world decide to selectively breed and slaughter human livestock. the protagonist, marcos, is a high-ranking employee in one of these slaughterhouses who must grapple with his function in this gruesome new society when he falls in love with a piece of “livestock” he is gifted. if you have a weak stomach, skip this one. this book gives you detailed tours through human slaughterhouse, human breeding facilities, and human tanneries. this book is gruesome and exhausting and one of the best things i’ve read in recent memory.

ok, we’re done with the gross ones, i promise. next is The Grip of It by Jac Jemc. going into this, you’ll think it’s a standard haunted house story. it’s not. young couple julie and james have just moved into a small town to hopefully get james away from his gambling problem, but find that their house is… odd. there are countless hidden rooms, stories of children dying decades before, things going bump in the night, eerie drawings on the walls, an elderly neighbor always watching them, and bruises covering julie’s body. every turn of a page will leave you wondering what the truth is, who you can trust, and what is really going on in that house.

now we’re getting into the really weird territory with The Raw Shark Texts by Steven Hall. eric has amnesia. he awakes in a house that is… probably his. he finds letters from himself explaining his situation, meets with a therapist he’s apparently been seeing for years, and dreams about his dead fiancée. some of the letters he finds are… dangerous, though. literally. just by having read the text on the page, eric is in extreme peril, and now that you’ve read it, you are too. eric has to travel across the uk, outrun conceptual sharks, and drink paper, and it’s one of my all-time favorite books. this story is about a lot of things. grief, memory, the power of the written word, what it really means to be a person, to be alive. just writing this summary makes me want to read it again, i really can’t recommend it enough.

lastly, we have by far the weirdest item on this list, and also my favorite book ever: House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski. depending on what internet circles you’re in, you might’ve heard about this book already, but i’m gonna infodump about it anyway. this book is about zampanò, a blind old man who— i mean, this book is about will navidson, a documentarian who moves into a— no, this book is about johnny truant, a tattoo artist who compiles zampanò’s essays about— ugh. okay, let’s start over. the navidson record is not real. it is a documentary that does not exist, even in the universe of the book. even so, the late zampanò has written an extensive essay about this nonexistent documentary, which young tattoo artist johnny truant now feels compelled to compile and share with us. zampanò’s essay tells us that the navidson record is the story of will navidson and his family after they move into a house that is 1/4 of an inch bigger on the inside. well, that’s an oversimplification. it also has a single hallway that takes 5 1/2 minutes to traverse, a seemingly infinite and ever-changing labyrinth both underneath and within the house, and… something that lives in that impossible space. in case you can’t tell, this book is hard to describe. it, and the raw shark texts, are what’s called ergodic literature, meaning they use the literal text itself as a function of the narrative. in house of leaves, you’ll see pages with the text upside down, the word “house” is always printed in blue ink, some pages are diagonal, some have only a few words on them, there’s a page that’s just a few bars of sheet music. similarly to the raw shark texts, this book makes you a part of the story just because you’ve read it. this story spans multiple appendices, a collection of letters from johnny truant’s mother, and a companion album by the author’s sister, and is one of the most amazing pieces of art i’ve ever encountered. it’s by no means a light read, a complete full-color edition will come at about 750 pages, but every single one of them will grab you by the throat and not let go until you’re looking over your shoulder for minotaurs and wondering if your house has the same dimensions as it did yesterday. read this book.

that’s my main list, but here are a few honorable mentions:

The Last Wolf/Herman by Laszlo Krasznahorkai, Piranesi by Susanna Clarke, Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke And Other Misfortunes by Eric LaRocca, and The Boxman by Kobo Abe

happy reading!!

what is the best book you’ve ever read in ur entire life i need a book that will completely ruin my life hello please

[thebeigeoverlord]

I am such a sucker for text formatting being significant in stories/media i eat that Homestuck/SCP/House of Leaves shit for breakfast

[coffeefleecy]

Secrets Behind Closed Doors

Pairing: Caleb X MC

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Caleb has never been one for subtlety. He finds that people dancing around a subject or belaboring a conversation by not saying what they mean tends to frustrate him so much that he often finishes their thought for them.

Get to the fuckin’ point, He thinks to himself, hands flexing in agitation by his sides, fingers stretching out then curling back up into his palm as the nail bites into the skin hard enough to leave red crescents.

Caleb says what he wants, does what he wants and casts no unnecessary apologies he won’t mean anyways. That is, unless it comes to you.

Word Count: 5.6k

Tags/Warnings: smut, scent kink, possessive behavior, masturbation, face-sitting, cunnilingus, dirty talk

Caleb has never been one for subtlety. He finds that people dancing around a subject or belaboring a conversation by not saying what they mean tends to frustrate him so much that he often finishes their thought for them. 

Get to the fuckin’ point, He thinks to himself, hands flexing in agitation by his sides, fingers stretching out then curling back up into his palm as the nail bites into the skin hard enough to leave red crescents.

Caleb says what he wants, does what he wants and casts no unnecessary apologies he won’t mean anyways. That is, unless it comes to you.

You.

Everything about you drives Caleb insane and you are the one person he won’t  - can’t -be upfront with. How could he be? You make him go fucking stupid. He can barely think around you, let alone speak and be entirely honest with every disgusting, depraved thought twisting around in his mind. He has to filter himself around you to spare the both of you.

“Caleb?” Your voice sends shivers up his spine.

“Hm?”

“Did you want to watch that new rom-com with me tonight? I’ve been seeing it everywhere and I’m afraid I’ll get spoiled if I don’t watch it soon!”

He observes you over his cup of coffee and tries not to fixate on the foam that’s gathered by your bottom lip.

“Whatever, I don’t have anything going on tonight.”

He fucking hates rom-coms, but there’s a lot of annoying shit he’d do just see that pretty smile play at your lips. He’d walk barefoot over hot magma just to hear you laugh. Hell, he’d probably take a waterboarding session if it meant you’d drape those gorgeous fucking legs over his lap.

“Thanks,” You beam at him. “Your place?”

Caleb returns your smile and laughs.

“Sure, but you have to bring food this time. I’m getting sick of you stealing all of my groceries.”

It goes unsaid that he’d let you rob him blind and max out all of his credit cards if you wanted to.

“Deal! I’ll bring whatever you want, just send me a text when you get home!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Caleb thinks he has time. You are always a little later than you said you’d be and it truthfully never bothers him in spite of his nagging need to be early to everything. The problem is that you’re knocking on his door and calling out for him as he’s in the middle of fucking his fist, desperate to get some relief and stave off the cravings for you as a precaution. Your voice is blood in shark infested waters, sending him into overdrive as he bucks into his hand. 

“Caleb!” 

His name on your lips has him whimpering and forces him to bite into the sleeve of his shirt to keep from alerting you to his activities despite the walls and door between the two of you. He squeezes the base of his cock to the point that the unshed tears of pleasure he’s been holding back begin to trail down his face, frustration and lack of release seizing his entire body. Your knocks get louder and the impatience permeates from your side of the wall until it feels like an actual, tangible weight. 

Caleb’s throat is raw as he snarls and stuffs himself back into his pants, completely unsure of how to proceed. He has to get you to stop knocking and there’s no way he’s going to be able to finish with you beating down his door, so he picks the lesser of two evils and grits his teeth to greet you.

“Finally,” You huff angrily when you’re met with his red face. “Woah, what happened to you?”

“I thought you were going to be another half hour,” Caleb says, ignoring your question. “I just finished working out - I thought I had time to take a shower.”

“Oh, by all means,” you wave your hand nonchalantly as you push past him, arms laden with bags of snacks and drinks. “I’ll just hang out on my phone or something. I don’t mind!”

Caleb’s thankful for your lack of attention to detail, taking your fixation on settling in to adjust himself in his sweats. It would have to be one fucking cold shower.

“I’ll be five minutes,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Just find the movie and we can get started after I get out.”

You hum, more focused on laying out all of the snack choices than sparing a glance in his direction. 

“Sounds good, take your time. I may borrow some clothes, is that okay?”

Caleb winces. Yes. No. God, he wants to see you drowning in his clothes but he’s terrified of what it’s going to do to his already fucked libido.

“Just take what you want, you know where to look.”

~

Caleb’s shower is wholly unsatisfying; the frigid spray of water does wonders for his erection but sharpens his mind and instincts to serrated points and he’s come to the conclusion that nothing can slake his desire for you no matter how much he tries to snuff it out.

The whole process is around five minutes in total, mostly because he wants to maximize his time with you. Caleb carelessly runs a towel through his hair, faint droplets of water still clinging to the tips of some strands in his haste to get to you. The neatly folded stack of fresh clothes he’s placed surreptitiously on the counter calls to him like sirens as the cool air pricks at his skin, gooseflesh decorating his body.

 Being cold is less embarrassing than being hard, he thinks.

 He dons a comfortable pair of loved sweats that have been through the wash maybe a few too many times, no structure and all snugness to the fabric. The shirt he’s selected is sleeveless and the armholes are stretched so wide it fits him more like a poncho. He’s caught you staring at his arms a few times when he’s worn it, more likely in awe of how his workout routine is treating him and less likely that you want to rip it off of him, but he likes to pretend it’s the latter.

Caleb sees you’re perched on his couch and wearing his sweater and faded pajama bottoms when he joins you in the living room and a warm feeling spreads in his chest at the thought of you being so comfortable in his space. His fingertips twitch at his sides, flexing and stretching to give his brain something less dangerous to focus on. He can hear you humming to yourself faintly as you scroll through the options on his screen, your face the portrait of unwavering concentration complete with you worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

He wants to bite it.

“I see you’ve helped yourself to my closet,” Caleb remarks teasingly.

“Huh? Oh, I thought you said it was okay!”

“I did, you know me well enough to know I’m joking. Don’t give me that face,” He adds when your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Your clothes are just more comfy than mine are,” You pout.

“They look better on you than they do on me,” He concedes, focusing on the television screen to keep himself from fixating on that very true fact.

“I don’t know how true that is, your arms look gigantic in that shirt.”

Pride blooms in the back of his throat with a delightful burn. There’s something in the way you praise him that makes him feel like he’s pleased you - like he’s made the right choice and he’s climbing in the ranks of your favor. 

I did good.

“I gotta keep up the workout routines - how else am I meant to have the energy to hang out with you?”

That earns him a scoff.

“Please, you and I both know that you look forward to this. Kinda lame that your sister is your only friend.”

“You’re not my fucking sister.” Caleb admonishes you with an eye roll. 

“Okay, geez,” You backpedal, pressing the play button on the remote. “I don’t know why it bothers you so much - if you hate me, just say so.”

“I don’t hate you, you’re just not my sister,” Caleb grabs your legs and hauls them over his lap - a position neither of you are strangers to. “Would you rather I hung out with you out of obligation for the sake of some false familial title or would you rather it be of my own free will?”

“Just watch the movie, Caleb,” You relax against the back of the couch and stretch your legs more comfortably across him. “And don’t even think about falling asleep - I’ve got my eyes on you!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Caleb can’t make heads or tails of what’s happening on the screen in front of him because you’re absently rubbing your legs together in his lap. He’s going to need a mouthguard around you if he has to grit his teeth anymore; he fears he’s lost quite a bit of surface area over the years. Normally, he grins and bears it, but with how pent up he’s been for the past few days and his precautionary self-love session getting cut short, he’s a little more anxious than usual. 

He doesn’t truly mean to use his evol - he tries not to, if he can help it - but he needs you to stop squirming or he’s going to have bigger problems than you being annoyed with him.

“Caleb!”

“What? Stop movin’ around! You’re jostling me.” Caleb snaps defensively. 

“I’m ‘jostling’ you? You don’t have to use that on me to get me to stop, just ask next time,” You scoff, fighting fruitlessly against his evol. “Caleb, let me go, I’ll just move away.”

“I didn’t want you to move, you’re just… distracting me. You can keep ‘em there, just try to sit a little bit more still.”

Caleb almost expects you to retreat when he releases his hold on you, but you simply shoot him a half-hearted glare and stay put, too comfortable with his hands draping over you to want to move. He must have a look on his face, because you’re surveying him quietly.

“Got something to say?”

“Nothing, you just look a little flushed. Do you think you’re getting sick?”

“No, I -” Caleb is cut off by the cool, relaxing feeling of your hand against his admittedly glistening forehead.

“You feeling okay, Caleb? We can call it early.”

Caleb’s answering smile is tired; lackluster, though you know he would never ask you to leave or take you up on your offer to do so.

“Nah, ‘m fine. Stay. I’ve just had a long day.”

You pull away to lean back against the couch and prop your head up by tucking your palm to cup your jaw. If you notice that Caleb’s head falls slack to chase your hand, you don’t say anything.

“Anything you wanna talk about?”

Caleb’s eyes flash with a slight glint of something you can’t quite place before he turns his attention back to the television.

“I’m fine, really - don’t worry about me. I thought you’ve been wanting to watch this! Pay attention.”

“I am paying attention - it seems like you’re the one that’s distracted. Whatever. Caleb, I’m cold.”

“Want a blanket?”

“Just come closer – you’re like a heating pad.”

Caleb sighs dramatically while he opens his arms for you, silently panicking and begging you to make good on your promise to sit still. He can feel his heart thudding rapidly in his chest and prays you can’t hear it.

“Seriously, you doing okay?” You ask, muffled into his shirt as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Seriously, pipsqueak - I’m fine. Stop buggin’ me and watch your movie.”

Caleb takes the opportunity to pull you closer to him, squeezing his eyes shut as he takes in the scent of your shampoo. He’s always been so sensitive to smells and it kills him that you give off the most intoxicating one. It’s almost funny, he thinks – how primal human beings can be and how little it takes to reduce them to a lesser state; all instinct.

Fuck, does he have to fight every single one of his instincts when he’s around you. He wonders if it’s like that for you, too, but your face is an open book and you’ve never had a thought he hasn’t been able to decipher. It’s torture for him to know he’s the only one suffering, though he’s at least thankful for your ignorance when it comes to his own issues. You make him feel like a fucking creep and sometimes he wonders if he actually might be.

“You’re so cozy, Caleb,” You groan, the sound doing absolutely heinous things for his self-restraint.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“No, I mean it - you’re like a giant teddy bear.”

Your body molds itself to his, sending his thoughts to dangerous places and making him wonder if you’re ever truly aware of how you’re affecting him and just playing dumb. Your track record with guys leads him to believe that you’re just that innocent - he knows, he’s shared a home with you and the walls aren’t exactly thick.

“Gonna give me any room to breathe or are you hoping that I absorb you through osmosis or something? I mean, really - ah -”

Caleb is cut off by your thigh sliding between his legs in what he hopes is an innocent attempt for warmth.

“Oh, sorry - did I hurt you?”

Your naivety is fucking delicious. Caleb swallows the knot in his throat and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. Ignorant to the source of his discomfort, you shrug it off and slip your arms around his waist.

“You’re being weird today.”

“How am I being weird?” Caleb demands, though the irony of his defensive tone isn’t lost on him.

“Just jumpy. Jittery – I don’t know. I know you said you had a long day, but you’re never this tense around me.”

Maybe if you’d just shown up when you said you were going to and let him fucking jerk off in peace, he wouldn’t be having this problem.

“Sorry,” Caleb’s reply is breathy; strained. “It really is just that I’ve had a long day.”

“Don’t be sorry,” You chide. “Just let me know if I can help. I don’t like it when you’re uncomfortable.”

You lean forward to push some hair out of his face and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Your thigh rubs against him even more with the proximity and you’re essentially unknowingly straddling his leg. A sharp, high-pitched whimper bubbles in the back of Caleb’s throat, too sudden for him to suppress it and too loud for you to not have heard it.

“C-Caleb?” You manage after a beat of incredibly uncomfortable silence.

“Don’t,” He manages through gritted teeth.

“N-no, did I hurt you that time? I’m sorry, I -” You scramble to move off of him, but freeze when you feel something rigid twitching between your thighs.

Caleb wraps his arms around you to keep you from squirming and escalating this situation even further, but all the motion does is push him between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath, tremors racking your body at this new feeling. 

“Don’t - don’t fucking move,” Caleb warns desperately, his voice wobbly and breathless. “Just - just give me a second.”

Your eyes narrow, and whether it’s from years of being bossed around or from the intense urges to push him further, you grind down on him. The effect is instantaneous and the sounds that fall from Caleb’s lips will be seared into your brain forever in the form of whines so needy and broken that it sounds like  in agony.

“Don’t make me use my fucking evol on you, you brat,” he spits out, though the words are less like he’s threatening you and more like he’s begging you.

Images of you spread out, forced down by his unwavering gravity while he’s knuckle deep in your tight cunt flood his mind, the dam of his restraint shattering and splintering into dust. His chest heaves as he swallows a gulp of air, desperate for anything to quell the tremors racking through his body at the feeling of you pressed so closely against him. His worn sweatpants are so thin, he can feel the heat between your thighs burning him. You give him no chances to catch himself before he falls and jerkily roll your hips into his.

“What the fuck are you doing, pipsqueak?” 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly, but make no moves to get off of him.

“We can’t come back from this,” Caleb warns shakily. “Once you cross that line, we can’t come back from it.”

“Is this why you’ve been so worked up today?” You demand, though your voice lacks conviction as you grind into him with unpracticed and shaky determination.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“So show me.” 

Caleb’s cock is so painfully hard in his ratty sweats and your breath so close to his neck has him leaking precum. He’s given you so many outs and is running out of willpower rapidly. You take every last one of his nerves and stomp on them, leaving nothing but destruction in your wake as you invade every pore and cell of his body and hold him hostage.

“Please, please,” He begs. “I can’t - I can’t hold back anymore -”

You swallow his desperate and pathetic pleas down with the faintest press of your lips to his, innocent in intent with no thought behind the action. It’s like you’ve flipped a switch in him. A deep, almost unsettling growl rips from the back of his throat and before either of you can stop it, he’s got you splayed out on your back with his knee pushing insistently between your thighs. His lips crash into yours yet again, though his kiss is entirely mask off and undisguised as he forces his tongue into your mouth like he’s worried he doesn’t have enough time to memorize your taste. 

You reciprocate as best as you can with uncertain licks and nips, but Caleb seems almost annoyed when you fight for dominance with the kiss. He grabs your chin between his index finger and thumb and pries your lips open with his tongue, conquering your mouth with the sweet tang of apples and desperation.

“Need it,” he pants into your mouth after breaking the kiss to beg. “Need you, need all of you, please -”

A choked moan wrenches from your lips as Caleb lunges forward to cover your body with his and decorate your neck with evidence of his love. His teeth leave small indents that he laves his tongue over to soothe, comforting you like he’s always so good at doing.

“You can,” You encourage, craning your neck to expose more of it to him. “Feels so good.”

“Please, fuck - let me get a taste, I’ll do anything,” Caleb whines as he grinds his clothed cock into your hip. “Just spread your legs, let me in - no - wait, sit on my face. Please, I’m fucking begging you to sit on my face so I can make you feel so good.”

Caleb sounds drunk; absolutely dizzy with the prospect that he gets to see you like this, let alone touch you. His tone has taken on a light, airy and high-pitched kick, breathless and needy like he can’t get the words out fast enough.

“I’ve - I’ve never done this before,” you pant, face burning bright with the inklings of shame that come with inexperience.

“No one’s ever touched you like this before?” Caleb’s head snaps up and when you see the fire in his eyes, the heat between your legs feels like an inferno.

“Never – never wanted anyone,” You explain, though you’re not sure why you feel like you have to. “No time.”

“You saving yourself for me or something, Pipsqueak?” His words are light and playful on the surface, but you can hear the tension, like he’s going to come undone at any second.

“I -” You can barely speak, his words rooting you to the spot and sending shivers down your spine. “Did you want me to?”

“Can’t just say shit like that,” He groans. “Fuck, are you sure this is okay? Please call me off, please - I really meant it when I said we can’t come back from this - I can’t come back from this.”

“Want you C-Caleb,” You stammer, so overcome with all of these new feelings that you can’t even vocalize what it is that you want. “Please.”

In lieu of a response, Caleb dips forward to kiss you again, savoring your taste and whining into your mouth at the friction between your bodies. He’s not even trying to hide the fact that he’s so hard he’s aching and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s leaking through his sweats at this point, too dizzy with you and the fact that you want him in any capacity to care.

You help him with your - his - sleep pants and clumsily shimmy them down your legs, sucking in a sharp breath as the cold air hits your newly exposed skin. Caleb’s teeth sink into your bottom lip and he covers your mouth with his to swallow your cries of pain and pleasure.

“Please,” Caleb begs as he trails kisses down your jawline. “Please let me taste you - wanna eat you out so badly, please, please -”

“I trust you, b-but if it tastes bad or your grossed out please don’t feel like you have to -”

Caleb scoffs.

“Gonna drink up everything you have to give me until you can’t give me any more,” He slips his hands underneath the sweater you stole from him and yanks it off of you with no preamble, impatient to get to his meal. “Know you taste so fucking good, I just know it…”

Your lust outweighs your confusion at his last statement and instead of questioning it, you thread your fingers through his silky locks and take a mental snapshot of the image of him pressing kisses into your stomach.

Caleb makes a note to pay special attention to your chest the next time he gets a chance – prays that there will be a next time – but he’s far too focused on the scent between your legs that his mouth fills with saliva at the thought of finally getting to taste you.

His fingers tremble as he impatiently paws at your underwear, scowling at them like they’re personally wronging him. Caleb rips them down your thighs and groans as a long strand of your arousal stretches with the soaked fabric.

“ ‘s fucking wet,” He croons, quietly tucking your underwear into the pocket of his sweats as he presses his lips against your entrance. 

His eyes practically roll into the back of his head as he inhales, a shudder racking his entire body in a frigid rush at your potent scent. 

“Smell so fucking good - it’s all mine,” He mutters under his breath, almost as if he hadn’t meant to even speak those words aloud. 

He flattens his tongue against you and licks a heavy stripe up, collecting as much of your wetness as he possibly can. 

“C-Caleb,” You whine. 

“That’s right, say it,” He says proudly before covering your pussy with his tongue, his name on your lips acting like a shot of adrenaline.

You’re so wet that you can’t tell where your arousal stops and Caleb’s saliva begins. His fingernails bite into your ass cheeks, pulling you as close as he can physically be to you, fucking you with his tongue and working his jaw even though it’s screaming in protest from the effort. It’s so messy, you’re almost embarrassed to look at him as he ravages your cunt like he’ll die if he’s pried away. 

“Tastes so fucking good, knew it,” He moans hoarsly, voice watery and high-pitched in a way that makes him sound like he’s crying.

“I c-can’t - I don’t know what’s happening,” You cover your face with your hands as he pulls his tongue out of you and sucks your clit between his lips, the pressure and suction so hard that it almost hurts. “I just -”

“You gonna fucking come for me?” Caleb demands, dividing his attention from devouring you to look up at you.

You hear him practically growl, animalistic and angry, before you feel him prying your hands from your face.

“Fucking look at me, do you understand me?” His beautiful eyes burn into yours, determined and hungry. “Did I say you could cover your face?”

“No, it’s just,” Your voice shakes, wavering slightly as you try to catch your breath. “It’s a little embarrassing - I don’t -”

“Hey, hey,” Caleb’s tone shifts and his gaze softens. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Caleb presses kisses up your stomach, trailing his lips up to your sternum, collarbone, neck and finally your lips. He’s covered in your essence, lips soaked and swollen from his relentless drive to make you come for him. He pries your lips apart with his tongue, flicking it against your bottom lip before sliding it in, forcing you to taste yourself.

“See how good you taste,” He breathes into your mouth. “Could eat you out all fuckin’ day.”

“C-Caleb,” You protest, feeling the dregs of your shame flutter in your stomach. 

“Want you to ride my face,” He continues desperately, body trembling above yours. “Get you nice and wet and let you fucking cover me with it.”

“Wh-Where did you learn to talk like this? I didn’t know you were capable of that!” You half-heartedly swat him with a trembling hand.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” He hisses, the words heavy like a looming threat. “I’ve got shit locked up inside my head that would make you want to run.”

“Tell me,” you encourage him, mind void of any rational thoughts as he sucks scarlet roses into your neck, covering you in marks you have no energy to protest to. “What?”

“You sure you wanna know?”

“Just wanna hear you - wanna hear your voice,” you breathe, trembling when his teeth dig into your throat. 

“Yeah? Wanna hear how badly I want to fucking wreck you? You don’t even know what you’re getting yourself into, pipsqueak.”

The term of endearment he usually refers to you as sounds like venom; sarcastic and mean as he teases and taunts you - like he’s got an inside joke he’s not letting you in on and he’s getting off on bullying you for it.

“Don’t be mean, Caleb,” You whine. 

He pulls away from ravaging your neck and actually fucking laughs, the sound sending thousands of pinpricks embedding themselves into your slick skin, forcing you to tremble and writhe beneath him.

“Don’t play fucking dumb, you and I both know you like it when I’m mean to you,” His grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger to force you to look at him. 

“Caleb -”

“You don’t even know what to do with it, do you?” He coos, patronizing and chock-full of false pity. “So fucking pathetic that you want me to tell you what I want to do with you and you wouldn’t even understand it.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, I - “

He scoffs as he roughly jerks your head to the side, stealing the words from your mouth and examining and admiring the marks he’s branded you with proudly.

“Look at you begging for me without even knowing what you want. Fuck, I love seeing my marks all over you.”

“Not begging,” you huff, the long-standing game between the two of you to break the other persisting even into adulthood. 

“You will,” Caleb promises. “And you’re gonna beg for me to make you cum. I’m not gonna ask again, get that fucking pussy on my face before I make you.”

You’re speechless as he leans back on the couch, the portrait of debauchery with kiss swollen and spit-slick lips, cock straining against his pathetic excuse for sweatpants. His chest rises and falls as though an immeasurable force is pressing against him, breathing labored as he fixes you with a challenging glare, pupils so dilated you’d worry he’s high on something in any other context. 

“I - I don’t know if I can, Caleb I don’t want to suffocate you.”

“I want you to fucking suffocate me, here - I’ll do the work for you,” Caleb snarls, reaching forward to dig his fingers into the backs of your thighs. “Come here.”

You cry out as he yanks your body forward and forces you to straddle his chest. He spares no time, terrified that he’s wasting the nanoseconds that he isn’t touching you as he manhandles you into the perfect position. He’s got you straddling his face, eyes burning in the frenzy your scent drives him to as you drip messily onto his face. Caleb inhales, breathing you in as he digs his fingernails into your thighs to press you as closely as he can to his face. 

His tongue is frantic, probing and searching with no rhyme or reason other than to collect everything you have to give him, You tremble above him, overwhelmed with the feelings as every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, white hot wires licking flames of pleasure everywhere inside you, synapses giving way to delicious electricity.  

When Caleb sucks your puffy clit into his mouth, you shake so violently that you’d be worried about falling if he weren’t fusing you to his mouth. Caleb is whining, loud and unashamed as he drinks you in, his own hips bucking into nothing as he chases the phantom feeling of you on top of him.

“C-Caleb, I can’t -”

Your words bubble and fizz in your throat, dying out as Caleb doubles his efforts to drive you to blissed out silence. 

“Use me,” He pants as he comes up for a momentary breath. “Ride my face, please - I wanna make you feel so good, please just use me.”

“What about -”

The feeling of his tongue probing inside of you silences you entirely, forcing your mouth open in a silent scream. Caleb moves his hands from your thighs to settle at your hips, fingertips digging into them as he moves you like he wants, taking all of the effort so you can just feel. Caleb’s tongue feels impossibly long as he explores parts of you that even you haven’t managed to reach through solitary experimentation. 

“Fuck it,” Caleb grunts, and before you can ask what he means or if he’s okay, you can feel his evol weighing down on you. 

“Just for right now,” Caleb tries to explain, though he’s too wrapped up in freeing his hands to make sense of it to you. 

You don’t have to ask what he means by that, because as soon as he no longer has to anchor you to his face with his hands, he’s got his tongue on your clit and shoving his index and middle fingers inside of you. He’s met with no resistance as your slick gushes out and drenches his hand. Caleb’s tongue flicks at your clit with concentrated and relentless pressure as he pistons his fingers in and out of you, building speed with your every cry and whimper. He can feel you tightening around his digits and by the way you’re trembling, he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

“Caleb - I can’t; I don’t know what’s happening, I’m -” You’re babbling incoherently, a scared edge to your tone as you surrender to the pleasure and exhaustion.

“Gonna come for me, just let go, be a good girl.”

Caleb’s encouragement and new nickname for you cause something to snap, the sound of his voice and feeling of his tongue and fingers taking your body hostage. You hate when Caleb uses his evol on you to bully you, but the feeling of his command forcing you onto his face as he demands pleasure from you has you sobbing his name. You give into him as that tightly wound coil inside of you snaps, your whole body going limp as your brain short-circuits, black dots fading in and out of your vision.

It barely registers when his evol releases you because as soon as the force is gone, he’s catching you with his arms and maneuvering your trembling body down his own so he can hold you to his chest. 

“Good girl, you did so good for me,” he murmurs, threading his fingers through your hair to soothingly stroke it. “You okay?”

“I’m - I’m okay, what about you?” You manage between deep, shuddering breaths.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But - you didn’t -”

Caleb shifts beneath you and it registers that he’s trying to keep his lower half away away from you. You look back and notice a spreading wet spot at the front of those sweats of his you hate so much.

“I did,” He says sheepishly as you turn back to meet his gaze.  “That was more for me than it was for you. Did I push you too far? Do you feel okay? Fuck - I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry after that.”

 Your voice is watery and Caleb notices immediately.

“No, no I’m not sorry it happened, I just try so hard around you to keep it all locked in, but I couldn’t. You drive me fucking insane, you know that right? Like you have to know how stupid you make me.”

“That bad, huh?” You joke.

“Worse. Give me a second to catch my breath and then we’ll get cleaned up, okay?”

“Okay – Caleb?”

“Hm?”

“Can I … Um… is there anything I can do for you?”

Caleb laughs, fighting the urge to divulge how badly he wants you to fuck the last couple of decades of frustration out of him.

“I don’t think you wanna open that can of worms tonight, you already can’t move. Just let me take care of you. There is something you can do for me next time, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Just send me a fuckin’ text if you’re gonna show up early!”

[daytura]

Just finished reading The Raw Shark Texts. Very good overview. Definitely lots of parallels between House of Leaves and The Raw Shark Texts with how the authors play with language. I would say The Raw Shark Texts' style is more accessible for people completely new to ergodic/postmodern literature since the viewpoint/plot is a bit clearer but has plenty of elbow room for interpretation. (Though I'm hearing of some Negative Chapters which read/analyzed should definitely make it just as complex)

tell us about these raw shark tapes 👀🤔🧐🤨

Raw Shark Texts is an example of Ergodic fiction.

meaning basically fiction which exists in such a complex relationship with its medium that it takes nontrivial effort just to consume.

It's not House of Leaves level but it def also aint just a simple story. (It does do a similar thing that HoL does irt shaping the text)

The premise is a man wakes up in his house with amnesia, to his discovery this is not the first time this has happeneds but infact a repeat event.

The basic plot is him trying to figure why he lost them in the first place.

Things then start to get odd from there.

I dont wanna spoil it as its a very nice mystey

[daydreams-after-dark]

Submission

You're billionaire Lee Minho's "plaything", but tonight the tables have turned and he let's you dom him.

Approx word count: 3.4k

WARNINGS: 18+ adult fanfic: NSFW // contains depictions of explicit sexual content // unsafe vagina sex // use of sex toys // light bandage // vaginal fingering // explicit language // nudity // light dom/sub // plaything kink // implied orgasm and ejaculation.

a/n: This story was originally posted on my main blog @moonlightndaydreams but I'm in the process of moving some of them over here that fit the 'after dark' vibe.

“Nu uh, Lee Minho. Don’t even think about fighting back. Tonight you are my plaything.” You pushed Minho to sit on the edge of the bed in the run down, seedy hotel room.

The man growled angrily. He hated being in this position. He was born a dom. He ALWAYS dommed. He gave the orders. He was in control.

“This is what you wanted, remember?” You spat into his ear and tugged at his sandy brown hair, pulling his head back hard to reveal his long, slender neck. Fuck, you loved seeing his neck exposed like that. The glow from the neon signs outside the window casting a glow against his skin that changed from blue to red to green.

You bit your lip and climbed onto his lap, and licked along the vein in his neck, tracing it up to his jaw, and then yanked his head back down so you could smash your mouth on his.

Minho met you with the same aggression and gripped your hips, digging his fingers in so hard you yelped.

“So you are going to be bad are you? Hmm?” you said, staring into his dark eyes.

You felt so alive and in control tonight. Normally you were the sub in this… arrangement? Yes, arrangement was the best way to describe this dynamic. You couldn’t call it a relationship because it was only about sex, and the rules were clear. You were billionaire Lee Minho’s “Plaything” for him to do as he pleased. It usually involved him taking care of you first, prepping you, getting you ready for what he had in store, then going absolutely feral on you. He had the perfect balance of tenderness and coldness and you were absolutely addicted.

You knew it was a dangerous game, for your heart, especially when you learned you were the only one. Minho was exclusive with you, and sometimes you wondered what that meant. There were nights you would lay awake and your mind would entertain the forbidden possibility of an actual relationship. You’d berated yourself for it, and reminded yourself of the reality of what this really was. Fucking. Secretly. You were his toy for him to fuck and use. And when he was ready, he was going to toss you aside like garbage.

But there was no way you could break this arrangement off. The sex was too exciting and too good. Minho knew what your body craved, what it could take, and he played with the edges of your limits. It was erotic, delicious, raw and sensual all at once.

But tonight Minho was your “plaything”. Your fuck toy to tease. Taunt. Use.

You were so excited when Minho texted you to meet at the hotel room tonight. You were especially excited when he said he wanted you in your leather corset and stockings “No panties” he’d instructed. This was the outfit he’d bought you so that you could dom him. You had waited weeks for him to finally give you permission to wear it, and you were going to make the most of it. You weren’t sure when you’d get the chance again.

You and Minho used this room every week. In fact, Minho purchased the room, like one would purchase and apartment.

“Do you like it?” he’d asked you when he showed you the first time in the middle of the day, a big grin on his face.

You had run your eyes over the peeling paint, the dirty carpet and flimsy windows. It was the most fucking seedy, nasty place you had ever been in. The view out the window was of equally rundown buildings, a nightclub, and most likely the offices of loan sharks.

It was foul. But it was perfect for what Minho had planned for you both. Even tonight, the ingrained pungent smell of cigarettes still permeated your nostrils, but you didn’t mind. You loved being in this room. Loved feeling dirty.

Minho never attempted to repaint, or make the place comfortable, except for the expensive bed in the middle of the room. The headboard he chose was made for being restrained with vertical wrought iron bars lined up between the end posts.

You planned to tie Minho to it tonight.

“If you’re going to bad, I’ll just stop.” You said bluntly. Minho whined. He never whined. It was usually you.

You slid off of his lap and retreated to the scruffy armchair in the corner of the room. He’d picked that up off the side of the road. Said it would add to the nastiness of the room. It was shit, and torn and smelt like god knows what.

“Strip.” You commanded.

You could see Minho was fighting an internal battle. His face contorted, his mouth pressed in a firm line. He wanted to argue, deny, fight back against you. But he also knew that he wouldn’t get to feel your mouth or pussy around his cock if he misbehaved.

You wondered if he was regretting agreeing to this.

But you were sure he’d be reminding himself of the bigger picture. He just needed to get through this first part. Humour you. Then he’d be able to get his chance to turn the tables and fucking tear up your pussy. You knew this too. It was a game, and in the end Minho will win.

You crossed your legs. You were wet, your bare pussy pressed against the worn out fabric, and you knew that you would be adding to the unidentifiable stains on the chair cushion.

“I said strip, Minho.” You repeated sternly.

The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk before standing up at the foot of the bed.

He glared at you, staring you down thinking it would intimidate you. Sometimes Minho would forget that you had the capability to play games with him.

Slowly his hands reached for the buttons of his shirt, and you licked your lips with anticipation as he discarded the expensive designer garment on the filthy carpet.

You inched your legs apart when his hand went to his belt. Your eyes didn’t leave his as he removed his trousers and boxers. Your mouth hung open in awe as you drank in the sight of a fully naked Lee Minho. A sigh escaped you and you swallowed hard.

He was perfect. Never in your entire life had you seen a man so effortlessly attractive. So perfectly proportioned. So fucking toned. So fucking strong.

You decided you were going to make him wait, torment him somewhat before you allowed him access to your body. You knew that’s what he wanted most in this moment. To devour you.

You threw a leg over each chair arm, exposing yourself to the man you wanted to torture. Minho raised an eyebrow as if to say “you bitch, you’re gonna pay for this”, while he watched your hand slide down between your legs to find your dripping centre and slipping two fingers easily inside yourself.

You moaned, closing your eyes. You knew this would make Minho angry. It turned you on. Your eyes slowly opened and you saw Minho standing there pathetically with his hand around his cock.

“Hands off, Minho.” You removed your glistening fingers and stood up “you know you’re not allowed to touch yourself.” You walked towards him stopping just centimetres in front of him. He could grab you and throw you on the bed if he really wanted to. “Does Minho need to be taught a lesson?” You say shoving your wet fingers into his mouth. “Hands off your dick, put them behind your back.” 

Minho groaned but did as you said. His eyes closed as he licked every last drop from your digits. He was so fucking sexy. You almost wanted him to take control and punish you right then.

“On the bed.” You whispered coldly.

Minho gave you one last long stare, his eyes darkening, a hint of a smirk appearing as he proceeded to look you up and down. He didn’t know you saw a glimmer of excitement in his expression. It made your stomach tighten in the way it did when you thought about Minho as more than a fuck buddy.

Wordlessly, Minho climbed up the bed, laying his head on the pillow. He waited and watched you as you picked up a large briefcase and climbed up to sit beside his legs. You noticed his fat, hard dick was leaking as it rested against his lower abdominals. So tasty, you thought. You pulled out the set of velvet ties that would normally be restraining you and proceeded to straddle Minho. He automatically began to jut his hips up desperately trying to make contact with your pussy, and his hands groped for your tits.

“MINHO!” you growled. “Fucking stop moving, or I’ll leave you here and go find someone else to fuck.”

Minho whined “I just need to feel you, kitten.” He whimpered painfully.

“You’ll feel me when I say you can. If I say you can.” Reminding him who was in control.

Minho grunted, but his protests died down quickly.

“Arms above your head, plaything.” You said, peeling his grip from you and securing it to the bed-frame. “Other hand.” Minho complied and you suddenly found yourself in a position you had never been in before. Minho helpless and bound to the bed.

He started to growl like a caged wild animal when you lifted off him and retreated to sit on the bed between his calves. He yanked at the restraints making the bed shake. His back arched up off the mattress. Sweat began to drip down his brow onto the side of his face, the neon glow hitting the droplets in the most divine way. “Fucking hell, come back.” He demanded. “Just fuck me already.”

Ignoring his protests you reached into the briefcase again. This time to choose your toy. There were two dildos to choose from. The first was obscenely massive. When Minho presented it to you for the first time, you thought he had lost his mind. It was literally twice as thick as Minho himself, and he was extremely well endowed. Your eyes had bulged wide, and it made Minho laugh. “You can take it. I know you can. I promise it’ll feel good”, he’d promised. He seemed to have a kink for seeing how wide he could stretch you. He’d often use it on you, mouth hung open as your pussy slowly stretched around it, taking it in, filling you up. Then after he was done he’d proceed to fuck you with his cock. Minho didn’t seem to feel inadequate or in the slightest bit fazed that he wasn’t able to stretch you as much as that dildo. “Can a dildo slap against the back of your legs when it thrusts into you? Can it pin you to the mattress, or the wall? Can it caress your tits, or ravish your mouth in kisses? Is it human? Does it care? Does it think you’re precious?” So no, he didn’t have any insecurities about that fat, obnoxious dildo.

Tonight you chose the second option. Slimline. Cheap. Barely any vibration power. Yes, if you came on this dildo it was bound to offend the man writhing on the bed.

You wrapped your fingers around the smaller toy and hooked a leg over each of Minho’s shins so that you were once again spread wide open, giving Minho full view of your pussy. The billionaire glared at you with dark eyes. 

You were so wet you didn’t require any extra lubrication, the dildo sliding into your vagina easily. You gasped airily as you began to fuck yourselves with the inanimate object. In front of Minho. Helpless, pathetic Minho. Well, he wasn’t completely helpless. If he wanted to he could use his strong legs to hurtle you on top of him. He was definitely holding back and letting you think you were in control.

You spread your legs a little wider, angling the dildo so that it would massage your g-spot. You moaned low and deep and your hips began to roll forward against it. You were feeling overheated in the leather corset and the perspiration made your skin glisten. You knew you looked sexy. You closed your eyes for a few moments relishing the feeling of bringing yourself pleasure whilst the man who is normally so in control can do nothing but watch.

“Fuck, gorgeous. Look at you.” He jeered. Your eyes flung open to meet Minho’s condescending eyes. “Your so fucking needy that even a flimsy little dildo is making you go dumb. Pathetic.”

You smirked at his attempt at belittling you. “Minho, darling,” you panted. Fuck your were close. “Don’t you think it’s you who looks pathetic?… That I don’t even need your cock to come?” You upped the pace as your desire built and the tension in your pelvis grew stronger.

“How does it make you feel Lee Minho… knowing that this shitty little dildo can take me over the edge?” You ran your gaze over him. His cock was desperately engorged and still leaking pre-cum on his stomach. His muscles tense and the veins in his forearms and neck strained.

“It’s driving me fucking crazy… You know it is” He hissed through clenched teeth. He looked at you with pure need. His eyes begging. His breathing laboured. A pained desperation on his face. This was the face that always made you come undone. It was the face that told you as much as he was a dom, or how much he loved playing games, he actually needed you.

You let out a pornographic moan as you took yourself to the stars, throwing your head back. The bulge of your breasts heaving as you floated back down to earth panting.

“Fuck… you don’t need me do you? All you need is your pretty fingers or some cheap ass toy, and your satisfied.” It wasn’t condescending or malicious. It was more like he was in awe. 

You withdrew the toy from yourself and crawled your way up to Minho, straddling him once again, hovering above him so that he still couldn’t feel you against him.

“Lick.” You whispered offering the dildo to his lips. He obliged, immediately opening his mouth and allowing you to force it deep into his throat. He gagged and his eyes began to water as you roughly fucked his mouth. 

“Come on baby, you should be able to take this… it’s not that big…” 

Minho growled and lifted his head to take more of the toy into his mouth, sucking and licking ferociously. 

“Good boy. You look like such a fucking slut for cock like this you know.” You praised removing the dildo. “So clean” you approved and tossed the toy to the side.

You leaned down to kiss him softly. Minho hummed as you deepened the kiss, and you finally slowly lowered yourself down onto his hips to grind against the length of his cock.

You slipped your tongue inside his mouth, tasting your own juices. You could feel his hips rolling rhythmically against you as your tongues gently caressed each other. You could feel your heart melting, a warmth spreading through your body. Why the fuck did this keep happening? Why did your heart have to get involved.

You pulled away from the kiss and searched Minho’s face, hoping his mean, cold, dark expression would snap you out of it. But that wasn’t the look he gave you. Instead he had soft, hooded eyes, a pink flush to his cheeks and and a look of fucking admiration on his face. His mouth even hung open like an idiot.

You leaned in to kiss him once more, then reached up to untie one of his hands.

That was a mistake.

In less than a second Minho had flipped you on your back, one hand still tied to the bed, his free hand pushing your leg up to your chest allowing him to ram his cock into you aggressively.

“You don’t know what you’ve done to me, teasing me like that.” He growled, slamming himself into you hard. “Neglecting my cock like that.” He withdrew almost the whole way out and hammered into you once more, causing you to cry out.

“Taking care of yourself and not me.” He grunted.

Minho gripped the wrought iron bar with his restrained hand, using it as leverage to thrust into you ferociously, each thrust seemingly harder and rougher than the last. You welcomed it though. This was how Minho liked to fuck. You knew that when he got a chance tonight he’d take it. You just didn’t know which of the chances would take. It felt thrilling having him own you like this. It was as if he had no self control and that he’d go mad if he didn’t get his release. He fucked you hard for at least ten minutes. You didn’t know how he hadn’t come yet. Maybe he was too focused on evening the score or teaching you a lesson.

He slammed in deep hitting your cervix, then paused so he could kiss you sloppily, giving you a moment to catch your breath. He reached up and untied his still restrained hand and brought it down to push the hair off your forehead. He swallowed hard as he gazed at you.

“Minho…” you whimpered.

“What is it little plaything?” he said softly. You didn’t know what you wanted to say. You just felt overwhelmed by the sudden surge of emotion that was coming over you.

“Wrap your arms around me.” He said “Hold me close.”

You felt confused by his request, but you found yourself with your arms wrapped around his neck as he laid flush on top of you. You could feel his entire torso against yours and the sudden increase in intimacy made you melt. You felt like hot liquid underneath him. Lee Minho could really do anything he wanted with you right now.

And it seemed he wanted to go slow, rolling his hips painfully slowly while his hands caressed your ass, the side of your body, even sliding up to cup your jaw while he made love to you with his tongue.

“Can we take this off?” he swallowed gesturing towards your corset. You nodded in response and Minho made quick work of removing it, still inside you, leaving you now only in your stay up stockings.

“Look at me, gorgeous.” He panted. You opened your eyes and watched the man above you as he continued to take you tenderly. “Is this okay?” he asked between long languid thrusts.

“It… it’s… so good.” You whispered. And it really was.

“Good. Because tonight proved to me just how much I fucking need you.” His eyes looked like they were tearing up. Surely not. It had to be from the strain of holding back from ejaculating, right?

“You saw me…. I can’t function without you. I fucking need you… I think about you the minute I wake up. ” He closed his eyes and a tear escaped, running down his face. He leaned back in to kiss you, perhaps to hide the fact he was getting emotional, and you tenderly kissed him back with as much care and love you could. You wanted him to feel safe enough to show you this vulnerable side of him.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in as close as possible, drawing a husky moan from the man making love to you. He nuzzled his face into your neck, sucking you skin delicately, marking you with damp tears. His body shivered like he had a fever.

“Oh, Minho.” You cried again. The sensations were overwhelming and confusing to you. But you didn’t want this to end. Your sweaty bodies slid together in the most beautiful way. His cock fucked you so carefully and deliciously, and his kisses were full of emotion. It was like he was trying to confess everything he felt for you in the way his lips connected to yours and the way he moved his body inside of you.

In that moment, nothing else existed. The pungent smell of the room, the neon lights, the sirens wailing by, all fell away as you both fell apart together.

~ Minho ~

He was not supposed to care. He was definitely not supposed to fall in love with you, and he was absolutely not meant to show his feelings in front of you.

But he fucking couldn’t help it could he?

“Lee Minho. You fucking idiot.” He scolded himself. “Why the fuck did you cry in front of her?” He ran his hand through his hair.

“Why did you tell her can’t function without her? That you think about her the moment you wake up?”

You were meant to be his “Plaything”. Merely the person with who he could explore his sexual desires with. He knew you’d be up for it. And you were. You even liked playing games with him.

Minho was the dom and you the sub. But that night in his seedy one bedroom apartment reserved only for sex with you, the night he let you be dom him and he broke down and cried, he let slip his feelings.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @itshannjisung @noellllslut @kangnina @weareapackofstrays

[flawseer]

So, a while ago this happened.

It's really been a whole year, huh? Wild. It seems like only last month when I was still drawing dragons. We sure have evolved a lot from that initial premise.

Jokes aside, I am very thankful to everyone who has continued to keep up with the content of this blog. It's not something I take for granted, so I appreciate it a lot.

In response to my last post about the second story arc protagonists, a few people have reached out to ask about my thoughts regarding the finale of that arc. I am presently in the middle of formulating a response. I've finished the raw text yesterday, and it currently sits at an overwhelming 13 pages, with roughly 8,300 words.

I don't know what to think about it, to be honest. I've been given to understand this part of the story was received with mixed feelings, and my own discussion of it is very overtly negative. I try to be celebratory and uplifting when I post here, so this sudden burst of harsh criticism may end up alienating people.

I'm still going to release it; I think it would be unfair to the people who asked for it so readily if I withheld it. But I anticipate this will generate some blow-back. I have very few kind things to say about it.

Just know, if you end up reading it when it comes out and are turned off by the dour tone: That post is atypical with regards to the content of this blog. I draw pictures and comics that celebrate this series, and I have no intention to start tearing it down on the regular.

Maybe I'm just feeling a bit anxious, perhaps nothing will happen at all. Maybe no one wants to read 8000 words of me blathering on, so it will be ignored. But just in case this turns into the moment where I jumped the shark (hello Shark, need to draw you at some point), know it's been nice to have had the opportunity to entertain you for a whole year.

In conclusion: Here is a picture of Squid wearing a baseball cap.

[brostateexam]

so on that reader quiz thing, i also got purple reader, but i haven't read any of them. have heard of 3/4. do you have any books that you would rec since we seem to have a similar taste and you didnt like the suggested ones? 😂 i struggle so hard to find books i actually want to stick with!

The Correspondence Artist by Barbara Browning. The Raw Shark Texts by Steven Hall. House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski-- I dnf'd but that was because right around the time I was about 100 pages in, work got insane and I had to put it down. Oh, Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, though that isn't really a novel that experiments with form all that much, it just has surreal elements that I enjoyed.

I hope some of these sound neat!

[coelacanth-girlprince]

marva's kinda serving Raw Shark Texts rn

[charl0ttan]

anyone ever read/heard of rabbits by terry miles. really interesting book. about a guy following a deadly ARG. idk if that premise sounds corny but i like the book.its making me consider the genre of "liminal" books. for lack of a better word. books that put you in a haunted sort of otherly headspace. you know. like house of leaves definitely. haunting of hill house. anything by her really i think, though the only other thing ive read is the first 30ish pages of we have always lived in the castle. also the raw shark texts. thats a really good one that nobody talks about. it feels like being in a rainy old hotel and pursued by demons. like youre the only one whos ever dealt with problems. thats the sort of book im into ive decided. i think piranesi would fit there too if it wasnt filled with so much love (until the curtain is pulled at the end, mind you). anyway i think theres a lot to be said for that sort of headspace, even though its hard for me to deal with it sometimes. but challenging art is often the best kind, right. its the depression of it. the way depression puts you in another world. gloominess and hopelessness. isolation. i like art that represents that. it means a lot to me to see that expressed.

[crepes-suzette-373]

Lineage Factor and Emotions

This might be super obvious to some people, I'm just writing this down mostly to straighten out my thoughts because it's all over the place.

Something I've been wondering for a while is just how exactly did Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji's "empathy" get removed, and whether or not it's possible to get it back.

This is also important to figure out whether Sanji's worry about him turning "evil" if his modifications fully awakened is warranted or not.

I had already previously explained that the brothers do still have emotions, and only very selective ones are taken out. I imagine if you take out all their emotions, they would've turned into something like the Pacifistas. No expression, no individuality, no personality. Just robot-like behaviour. This is very interesting, because just how exactly do you choose to only take out selective emotions?

Currently there's not enough info to tell, but my working hypothesis is that the emotions wasn't "removed". What happened is that whatever was modified in their lineage factor also includes modification that suppresses certain emotions (fear, empathy/sympathy, who knows what else).

"Emotions" is somehow part of the "data" included in Lineage Factor.

While for the most part Lineage Factor is like DNA in our real world, it also apparently includes "emotions" in One Piece. It's to the point that the Hancock seraphim is still in love with Luffy when the lineage factor is copied into the clones.

It's also implied in the flashbacks showing Sora trying to stop the modifications. Sora was concerned about their "hearts" (emotions/feelings), but the medicine she took was something that tampers with the lineage factor. As a result, not only is Sanji's emotions fully intact, but he doesn't have "powers".

Except that whatever Sora drank didn't actually do anything to the lineage factor. As it turns out, all it did was suppressing the modifications from manifesting/taking effect.

I had previously wondered why they couldn't just re-augment Sanji once they noticed he "failed", but when I re-checked the raw, the text says that the modifications was successfully done (on the "cellular level"/DNA, to use our world's terminology). It's just that the intended modifications did not "manifest"/take effect.

成功したはずでした does not mean "we thought it was successful, but actually it wasn't". It means that even though the "objective" (lineage factor manipulation) was successfully completed, the intended "outcome" (powers + exoskeleton) was not achieved due to other factors.

Sanji's "lineage factor" is already manipulated. They can't do anything to him anymore. It's jut that why/how the medicine Sora took can stop the modifications from manifesting, or how the raid suit can awaken it after so long is still a mystery.

So, if Sanji's mods fully awakens, I imagine that it's true that he will really become merciless like his brothers. All 4 of them went through the same treatment, after all. We saw that happen briefly when Sanji was fighting S-Shark.

Since Reiju has the abilities but her sympathy wasn't blocked, I theorise that it's possible to find the part of the lineage factor that controls emotions, and just "unblock" that one part.

Now that there's Vegapunk around, when they escape Egghead, they might be able to figure this out using Vegapunk's knowledge. The actual operation might not be immediately doable without the labs, but maybe if they find Law he can help? The actual details of lineage factor is mysterious, but if it's strictly physical/biology and not something that requires medicines/chemicals, it's possible that Law's powers can be used.

Alternative possibility is they might need to go to Neo MADS and demand that Judge himself undo it. Like, I think this is very very unlikely (and I don't really want this to happen either), but it might be a plot bridge to, you know, actually ask why he wanted revenge against the other North Blue kings.

Then maybe this will finally reveal the secret of Germa's past, because many things in the series seem to imply that they have or they know something important related to the World Government. Something that the crew will need to learn about or obtain.

Is Ichiji's powers okay?

In my theory posts, I analysed the various instances where Ichiji seems to display indications that he's actually different from Niji and Yonji. He might not have the full range of emotions like Reiju did, but there's something about him that's just different.

I'm somewhat curious if this as of yet unknown "anomaly" means that his powers are screwed up as well. He has exoskeleton, but we don't know for sure what built-in powers does he have.

I have previously mentioned the suggestion that his Sparking Valkyrie lasers might be just the suit. Sensei already confirmed in an SBS that the Germa abilities are half augmented in the body and half the suit:

So, maybe the emotions anomaly does affect Ichiji's powers to that without the Raid Suit he cannot do anything.

A possible hint that this was the case might be the fact that he just sat there not doing anything when at gunpoint in the wedding.

Niji's electricity runs in his body, so even if he uses it, it does him no good here if he can't use his arms and legs to fight. He can't shoot electricity blasts (the thunderclaps you see in the anime when he fights is not canon).

Reiju's poison breath seems to be a suit power, and her built-in ability is only for absorbing in poison. So she can't do anything either.

However, Ichiji could've lasered down the Big Mum pirates with his eyes since his head can still move. Or, even try to laser the candy to break free. We can see in the scene where he shot down Oven that the light blasts of Valkyrie can make holes in people. It might be able to break the candy.

Sure, they're surrounded, and there's the chance of him getting gunned down before he can do much, but the way he talks implies that "he can't do anything".

If the lasers is in the raid suit, then it makes sense that he can't do anything here.

The alternatives to this is either: 1) He wants to die for some reason. 2) The emotion modifications causes all the brothers to just easily give up and not have the will to fight to the bitter end. Like, maybe Ichiji actually has the lasers, he just didn't feel it's worth trying. Or 3) Sanji's flashback of Ichiji's eye lasers is wrong, and Sparking Valkyrie is not actually eye lasers (then what is it?).

All of that are something else entirely, though, so I won't discuss it here.

Eyebrow flip

We know that Sanji's brows flip when his exoskeleton activate, but how do we know for sure that both his brows flip? We only assume it's that way because of Yonji and Niji's.

However, what sensei said in the SBS is that "all the brothers have 66 shaped eyebrows like Yonji, but Sanji's is the opposite" and "his eyebrows did change" when the power of science activated. He didn't say that "Sanji's eyebrows both flip into the 66 shape".

So, what if when the eyebrow flips, it actually looks like this?

I don't think we can definitively say it's not like this, because the manga art has not shown what his full face looks like when his brows flip. Nothing in the series also has ever indicated that this is impossible.

The point of me bringing that up is because sensei also never said the siblings brows can't flip.

There are some panels where you expect you should be able to see the curl in Ichiji's brow under the bangs, but it's not there. However on other panels, it's visibly there.

That first panel is a very dead obvious one. It's too big to be an error, since sensei actually bothered to draw the curl on the other brow that's almost covered by Sanji's fist. If this was a mistake, then sensei must be very sick or otherwise not feeling well that week, if he could miss something in such a glaringly visible place.

If this is not a mistake, then maybe his eyebrow actually can flip too.

This is related to the theory above where I mentioned maybe Ichiji's powers are also imperfect. This is of course just a lot of conjecture, and we need more canon info before I can speculate further.

The same theory has been made about Reiju (i.e her eyebrows either flip too, or facing opposite directions). However, Reiju's modification circumstances are different from the quadruplets, and the Reiju examples I've seen are not as blatantly visible like Ichiji's one here, so I won't speculate on her yet.

Niji and Yonji?

The problem with knowing specifically what is "wrong" with the brothers is the wide semantic domain of even a single kanji. 情 is generally understood to be "interpersonal feelings" like affection or sympathy. But because this is vague, it's very hard to tell what emotions they can or cannot feel.

They can feel "concern", and Niji and Yonji both have obvious unsettled looks at Big Mum's collection. Yonji was even stunned to silence. What's up with that?

Unlike Ichiji, they have not displayed indicators of something funny going on, so for the time being I assume that "concern/care for family members" is not part of the "情" that is missing from them.

As for their reaction towards Big Mum's books of living things... perhaps the intention is to say that Big Mum is a more cruel/horrible person than Germa.

This instance makes me think of a Japanese saying that goes "even the oni of hell would vomit" 地獄の鬼すら反吐吐く所業. It's a saying to describe something so unbelievably despicable. In Buddhism, the oni's duty is to torture the dead for their sins in life for eternity. You can only imagine how bad it has to be that even the cruel and merciless "oni" of hell would be disgusted to the point of vomiting.

Here, if even the "heartless" Vinsmokes are disturbed, then it's just that bad.