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ma-yawntu · 4 months

Text

mine, all mine.

chapter one: paradigm

pairing: neteyam x female!metkayina!reader

summary: You had your routine down to a fine art until he and his family threw a wrench in the works.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: mentions of injury, weapons, sneaking out, you're a menace fr. NO USE OF Y/N!!!

now playing... home by good neighbours

metkayina face claims

chapter two

It was early in the morning, long before the sun peeked over the horizon and bathed the village of Awa’atlu in a soft golden hue. You were silent as you crept toward the entrance to your family’s marui, placing your feet ever so carefully as to not disturb your siblings and parents and undoubtedly cop a string of questions as to why exactly you were up so early. You’d lie your way out of it, as usual, but you would remain under suspicion for far too long. But by now, you had this sneaking out business down to a fine art. Your mother’s duties as Tsahik had her awake fairly early most mornings and your father– well, you were sure the entire village knew when he was asleep given his occasional thunderous snores that you heard even in your dreams (or nightmares depending on your persuasion).

There was a short expanse of time when both your parents slept soundly and you could get away uninterrupted and unsupervised for secret little training sessions with one of the village elders, Teyoa, who was a total thorn in your side but he was the only one who agreed to train you. Your father was sure there was no need for such things as learning to fight or use an array of weapons for anything other than hunting– the Metkayina were not at war. But even from a young age, you were fascinated by the stories of warriors and the battle with the great Toruk Makto that the elders would secretly tell the children. You were sure you wanted to be a warrior, fight to defend your people. But being the oldest daughter of the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan meant there was a heavy responsibility on your shoulders. You were the tsakarem, destined to be the Tsahik one day– a far cry from your dream of being a warrior.

Then there was the total mess of having to be mated one day, you considered that to be absolutely appalling– of course, your mother would scoff and tell you off for being dramatic– but you did not want to be mated to some random boy in the village, all of which you had the utter displeasure of growing up with for the most part. You dreaded the day you passed your Iknimaya– which was a breeze by the way– but it also meant you would be an adult, able to be courted and approached by the absolute meatheads that lived in your village.

“He’s a nice boy,” your mother would comment as you rolled your eyes so far back you saw your equally displeased brain.

“He also gave Ao’nung a bald patch when we were children,” you scoffed, pulling on the intricate and almost suffocating neck piece your mother insisted you wear when boys began courting you.

“Must you have an excuse for everything?” Ronal would sigh, pressing her hands together as if praying to Eywa for the strength to not throttle her eldest child.

“Mother, A’tok is boring at best. Father would not approve of him being the next Olo’eyktan,” you would reply with a shrug, finally untying the neck piece and replacing it with the simple beaded one Tsireya had made for you many eclipses ago.

“Eywa, give me strength,” Ronal would mutter, eyes glancing up at the sky as she returned to the healing tent to tend to the wounded hunters.

Your parents were sure you made it impossible on purpose. You would avoid courting boys from the village like the plague, using your sister or tsakarem duties as an excuse almost every time. But Tsireya loved love; she would point out some of the cute village boys that came to court you, noting the gifts they had bought or their kind demeanour– she was too sweet for her own good. You had dirt on almost everyone, noting the times some of the older boys had bullied Ao’nung or bad mouthed your sister or parents– you held a grudge.

Your mother tried to busy you with tsakarem duties if you were so adamant on borderline bullying the Metkayina boys into leaving you alone. You found it boring at times, wishing you were out hunting or practising your weaponry skills with Teyoa. Of course, you wanted to honour your family and your clan, but you wanted to learn to defend the land and your spirit brothers and sisters the tulkun too. Interpreting the will and Eywa and being a healer wasn’t exactly where all the action was. Tsireya would have been a better tsakarem than you. You had heard of villages where sisters lead their clan alongside each other as Olo’eyktan and Tsahik– you would lead them in flesh and your sister could lead them in spirit. But that’s not how the Metkayina did things and Eywa forbid you mess with tradition.

So you paid attention for the most part, learned to look for ripe fruits, herbs and created healing balms and practise healing techniques. But you found it so uninteresting and boring, but you loved your people and your parents, so biting your tongue and carrying on would be enough for now.

But it only lasted so long before you wanted to sit at the bottom of the reef in an act of protest and ignore your never ending list of responsibility as the tsakarem. When you went around begging some of the elder warriors to train you, they feared the wrath of your parents (mostly your mother) and told you to stop behaving like a child. Teyoa thought you were amusing and decided to teach you, but his teaching methods were weird and required the patience you simply did not have.

“I do not see how hitting this poor defenceless bag of sand is effective,” you would grumble, burying the end of your staff into the sand, leaning on the thick weapon. Teyoa circled around you as you ‘fought’ this bag of sand, not even using a ‘real’ weapon as you so eloquently put it.

“You must be patient, child. A good warrior and hunter is patient,” he lectured, picking the staff up out of the sand and handing it to you. “Again.”

You let out a sound of annoyance before you forced the stance Teyoa had ingrained into the fabric of your soul, holding the staff toward your enemy (bag of sand) and beginning your usual fighting techniques. Teyoa had his arms crossed as he watched you, studying your form. You had a strong heart and will, always wanting to prove yourself and while he had never seen someone with such a keen heart, you were impatient but he was sure you would see it one day.

Your hands were always covered in blisters and small bruises from your training with Teyoa. He told you that warriors had tough hands, they needed the strength to wield any weapon and battle any odds. Your eyes would sparkle at the thought and you were always proud of the injuries from your hard work– though hiding it from your parents proved to be a challenge in itself. Teyoa knew he could probably get into trouble for teaching the Olo’eyktan’s daughter to fight, but you were so adamant and protective of your people, it was hard to say no.

That was the routine most days– rise early to train with Teyoa and be back before your parents even realised you were gone. You had gotten better at fighting, you would easily hold yourself in a fight and wanted to prove yourself to your father but seeking out a fight wasn’t exactly the mark of a good warrior.

“Where are you going?” Tsireya asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and you stopped dead in your tracks, turning painfully slowly to face your little sister.

“Nowhere,” you replied pathetically.

She gave you a look of confusion as her gaze shifted from your head to your feet. Your tail twitched anxiously as she watched you, “it doesn’t look like you’re going nowhere.”

“Go back to sleep, Reya,” you whispered, heading toward the entrance of your family’s marui. Tsireya stood up from her mat, wrapping her arms around herself as she met you in the middle of the marui.

“I see you do this every morning, sister. You’re worrying me,” she pouted. You sighed softly in defeat, turning to face your sister.

“I’m seeing a boy–”

“Lie.”

“I do not lie,” you replied, offended.

“You lie all the time,” Tsireya retorted, “and you do not like any of the Metkayina boys. I see through your lie and I demand you tell me the truth,” she said a little louder.

You sighed, running your hands down your face. It was impossible to lie to your sister, she knew you too well. “I’ve been training with Teyoa.”

Tsireya battled with the confession for a moment, “the old warrior?” she questioned.

“Yes, he’s been teaching me,” you replied.

“Mother and father will not be happy,” Tsireya commented, folding her arms over her chest.

“I’m aware, hence the leaving at stupid times in the morning,” you said with a huff. Tsireya gave you that look she always gave when she was worried and you felt your heart squeeze. “I am careful, Reya. He has taught me many things, I feel I can defend our people and– and the tulkun.”

“We are not at war,” she quickly said, grabbing your hands and squeezing them in her own. “You do not need to fight. We are safe here–”

“The tulkun go missing, Reya. The other clans speak of their spirit brothers and sisters disappearing, I cannot let that happen,” you replied, holding Tsireya’s hands tightly. She looked at you with such worry in her eyes. “I feel it,” you said quietly, “I feel something is wrong, that something is coming.”

“You cannot be sure,” Tsireya sighed, shaking her head.

“I am the future Tsahik, sister. I think I know when Eywa speaks,” you teased.

“You would be a good Tsahik,” she said after a beat, knowing how you felt about your duties as tsakarem. You smile at her words, cupping her cheek softly. She knew how you felt about your tsakarem duties, wishing so desperately to be a warrior instead of a healer. But you were soft when you wanted to be, she was convinced you would be an excellent Tsahik one day.

“I must go,” you whispered, letting go of her hands.

“Be careful,” Tsireya sighed, “you cannot be so sneaky forever.”

You turned around just before stepping outside your family’s marui, “watch me.”

You sat on the beach of the neighbouring island of Awa’atlu. Your legs were covered in sand as you worked on crafting your heavy bow. Metkayina preferred to use spears, but Teyoa taught you how to make a bow, a dying art in his opinion. You had been working on it for a couple of days in secret, not wanting your parents to find out you were spending your time making weapons instead of learning to perfect your healing techniques.

“Looks good,” Teyoa commented, holding a spear and woven basket of fish in his hands. You glanced up at him and let out a sigh.

“I cannot get the string tight enough, hardly a weapon for a warrior if you ask me,” you huffed, your fingers red and tired from the thin string that was steadily starting to wear at your poor fingers from how hard you’d been trying to pull it taut.

Teyoa silently sat beside you on the sand, the heavily tattooed elder Metkayina fixing your sloppy handiwork in a matter of seconds. “Now it is a weapon fit for a warrior,” he grinned as he handed it to you. You stood up, feeling the weight of it in your hand. “It will take some getting used to–”

You lifted one of your crafted arrows, pulling the string taut before releasing it on an unsuspecting fish in the shallows of the reef. You ran toward the water, pulling the fish out with a grin on your face. Teyoa began to laugh softly.

“You overachieve,” he shook his head.

“Was that a compliment?” You teased.

“Hardly, child,” he chuckled.

You practised your aiming skills in the shade of the forest, Teyoa occasionally correctly you but leaving you to practise for the most part. You definitely lost track of time because by the time you returned to the beach, the sun had risen over the vast horizon of Pandora, a grim reminder of the fact your parents were definitely awake and you were definitely not in the village.

“Oh, Eywa, no!” You almost yelled as you started running toward the beach, clicking your tongue to get your ilu’s attention. Teyoa stayed behind, picking up his woven basket full of fish he had caught earlier and watching as you scrambled through the water.

“I’d like to see you lie yourself out of this one!” Teyoa sang from behind you. He never took much seriously, he was too old (his words) to care much about ‘getting in trouble’. You, however, cared a lot.

You dipped into the water with your ilu, quickly making tsaheylu as you tore through the water back toward your village– you were so dead and while your sister would try to cover for you; Tsireya was a pretty bad liar. Your ilu zipped through the coral reefs, pushing itself as hard as the poor animal could for your sake. You quickly surfaced, taking in a deep breath of air when you heard it– the loud horn you knew all too well.

That horn meant a few things: the tulkun were back, a ceremony was beginning or someone was missing, and given where you were and the fact that your parents had no idea, you were sure it was the latter. You dipped back before the surface, hoping and praying to Eywa your mother wouldn’t skin you for this one.

You swam in through a small opening in the twisting branches around the reef, watching as your village gathered on the sandbank, probably copping a not-so-subtle interrogation from your father about your whereabouts before he sent out the search party.

You definitely couldn’t lie your way out of this one.

Tsireya shifted anxiously as she stood by her brother, glancing around the crowd for you. She only half listened to her father as he spoke to these strangers from the forest, their sudden appearance in their village frightening the Metkayina. They were seeking uturu and while your father seemed to consider the idea, your mother scoffed at such an ask.

After a few uncomfortable minutes, Tonowari made the decision to let Jake Sully and his family stay in their village. Tsireya knew it would be difficult for them as forest Na’vi learning the way of water, but she was eager to teach.

“Our children, Ao’nung, Tsireya and…” Tonowari let out a sigh as his eyes fell on only his two youngest, with you nowhere to be seen. Tsireya winced uncomfortably at her father’s gaze. He looked around for a moment before finishing, “they will teach your children our ways.”

“Where is your sister?” Ronal asked, pulling on Tsireya’s arm. Tsireya felt like she was going to explode, unable to form a single coherent thought that wouldn’t totally expose your little routine.

“I am here!” Your voice broke out across the beach, the crowd parting for you as you made your way toward your parents. You were out of breath, your chest huffing up and down and your hair a soaked mess from your panicked race home. “Mother, I am sorry, I–” You trailed off at the sight of foreigners in your village. You recognised them as forest Na’vi– why would forest Na’vi be here? There were six of them; a family.

The forest was exceedingly far from your home in the reef and the family before you looked noticeably tired from their journey and you could only imagine how out of place they felt in your village. The youngest forest Na’vi looked at you curiously, hiding behind her father’s leg as she watched you, you smiled softly, the little Na’vi grinning back and holding her father’s leg.

“My daughter,” your father said, your attention snapping back to him, “how nice of you to join us.”

You winced at the comment, some of the younger Metkayina snickering at the comment, your brother doing the same. Tsireya swatted at his arm, effectively shutting him up. You stepped toward your father, “Father, I–”

He held his hand up, silencing you. You were going to hear about this later, you were absolutely sure of it. “Help your sister move Jake Sully and his family into their marui,” he said lowly, to which you nodded, not daring to argue with him. “I want you to teach their children our ways,” he looked at Jake Sully and his family, “so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.”

Your father gave you a look, a look that silently asked you where you’d been while simultaneously telling you he didn’t want to hear it. Tsireya came to your rescue, quickly grabbing your hand and turning to smile at the forest Na’vi. “Come. We will show you our village.”

You walked alongside Tsireya through your village, watching as she peaked behind her occasionally at what you assumed was the youngest of Jake Sully’s sons. You followed her gaze, grinning softly at your adorable sister. She caught you watching her, becoming embarrassed.

“What?” She questioned, completely unprompted.

“I said nothing,” you replied, trying not to laugh. You carried a few of the Sully’s belongings to the empty marui near the edge of the village, at least you could give them a little bit of privacy while they adjust to their new home.

Tsireya shuffled into their marui, placing their things down, “this will be your new home,” she grinned sweetly. You trailed behind her, finally getting a good look at the entire forest family. You stared at them curiously, noticing their thin tails and arms, their darker blue skin and piercing yellow eyes. You had never seen Na’vi like this before and it intrigued you.

“Thank you, this is nice, right?” Jake turned to his mate and children, smiling through his wince as his mate dropped the rolled hide on the floor with a huff. Jake turned to you and your sister, “Thank you, Tsireya and… I’m sorry I don’t think I caught your name.”

Your ears perked at the sudden attention on you and you quickly told him your name, bowing your head softly. Your tail swished behind you as Jake introduced his family to you and your sister, “my mate, Neytiri,” she seemed displeased with the arrangement and was rather… intimidating. “My daughters Tuk and Kiri.” Tuk waved happily at you, to which you returned with a small smile while her sister Kiri seemed uncomfortable, pulling on the corners of her shawl. “And my sons Lo’ak and Neteyam.”

Tsireya smiled at the ground as Lo’ak caught her eye, smiling softly at your sister. But your eyes lingered on his oldest son, Neteyam. He watched you curiously and he was hard to read, he looked you up and down and you almost frowned. You stared back at him for a fleeting moment, wondering what his problem was.

“Right, well,” Tsireya said, pulling your attention to her, “we will leave you to settle and get some rest, we can go swimming in the reef later on,” she smiled politely, nodding her head as she grabbed your arm, pulling you out of their marui.

You felt Neteyam looking at you as you left, turning your head to peek back at him. Eywa, what is his problem? You thought, making a face of disdain as you caught up with your sister.

“What’s his problem?” You grumbled. You walked shoulder to shoulder with her as you made your way back to your parents in the middle of the village.

“You mean Neteyam?” Tsireya asked. You gave her a look and she giggled, “he was checking you out!”

“What? No, he wasn’t,” you frowned, a feeling of disgust pooling in your chest. Tsireya nudged your shoulder with a laugh.

“Oh, my sister. You may be a great warrior, a Tsahik in training and have a gift for scaring boys away, but he was definitely checking you out,” Tsireya babbled on and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t exactly unpopular when it came to boys wanting to court you, if anything, you did pretty well for yourself. But you simply weren’t interested in finding a mate any time soon, you were only sixteen, it felt ridiculous to rush into things (even though your parents pestered you about choosing a mate).

“How ridiculous,” you retorted. “He is a forest Na’vi, we are reef Na’vi, I’m sure he was more preoccupied with our staggeringly different appearances,” you attempted to explain the reason for his lingering gaze but your sister really wasn’t having a bar of it.

“Are you saying you didn’t think he was cute?” Tsireya asked, quirking a brow at you. You stopped in your tracks, giving her an unimpressed look. She let out a dramatic gasp, “you do think he’s cute!”

“I do not,” you retorted childishly.

“Do not lie!” She squealed. “I never thought I would see the day!”

“You pain me,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“My sister likes a boy!” She sang.

“I do not like him,” you grumbled as Tsireya danced circles around you with a grin on her face. She tugged on your arm as she jumped up and down with excitement. You would admit that he was cute but you were allowed to admire and ignore– that’s what you did best, because boys are usually cute until they open their big dumb mouths.

a/n: hi! this is my first time writing for avatar, i hope you like it! i know there wasn't much of our teyam in this but there will be more! only if this does well tho :3

dividers by @/cafekitsune

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skaldish · 2 months

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Alright folks. Here it is, my theory of what Ragnarok actually represents. It is very messy and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to actually convey my understanding clearly like I try with most things, because genuinely this is shit I would write a doctorate-level thesis on.

But we're going to try anyway.

So. After doing a lot to try to replicate animistic thinking, as well as taking a VERY deep read of the Norse myths, my theory is that Ragnarok is specifically allegory for societal collapse—the "end of the world" imagery and such is meant to convey what this feels like.

Recall what Odin says in Grimnismal. It goes something like this, since I can't be arsed to find the exact quote:

Huginn and Muninn fly over the world every day; while I fear Huginn ("thought") may not return, I fear Muninn's ("memory's") absence most.

When a society collapses, so does it's memory. It loses its technology, its methodologies, its paradigms, and everything it has learned about the world up to that point. Gone. Entire chapters of history erased.

What causes societal collapse is not always a conquering force, but is oftentimes the result of circumstances that a society orchestrates for itself. Think Rome.

People who have gone through societal collapse will probably develop an invested interest in figuring out how to prevent it entirely, so they don't have to start society all over again.

It's one thing to preserve the memory of "things collapsed and here's why" using a story. But it's another thing to do what apparently the Norse people did, which is cultivate a methodology for cognitively hardening their own society against collapse, using stories as a way to do it.

Like...I'm not kidding when I say they legitimately knew how the human mind works, and then built an entire system of stories and narratives that intentionally support the mind's freedom, cultivation, and agency. I can only convey a fraction of how this works in this post because the rest requires a deep-dive into behavioral psychology and neurological development.

All the tales leading to Ragnarok demonstrate various instances where the gods choose to follow their own agendas at the expense of the real people and forces in the world. All of these little things contribute to the magnitude of the event that is Ragnarok.

The tales represent these transgressions using allegories rather than literal events. This is because these stories were designed for children, who don't process information through a prefrontal cortex like we do as adults. They don't have them yet. But this gives kids an intuitive understanding for how circumstances of collapse feel, so they can recognize them in all their forms.

Loki is an allegory for the mischief we feel as children, and for the behaviors we demonstrate before we get to the age where we start valuing cooperation. In the myths, every time Loki causes mischief in ways that creates problems, the gods get mad at him and threaten Loki's life until he fixes his mess. Loki eventually becomes vindictive, kills Baldr in a jealous fit, and then is punished by being bound and buried beneath the ground, only to fight against the gods in Ragnarok.

The surface-level takeaway is a lesson in parenting: If we punish kids for their mischief, they're going to become vindictive adults, and these adults are going to have it out for the rest of society because they've been disenfranchised.

But it doesn't just end here. Consider how we punish ourselves for our own sense of mischief, beating ourselves up for having "problematic" thoughts and trying to bind and bury those thoughts in the depths of our mind.

These thoughts come from a place our mind known as the limbic system, which is focused on avoiding pain and seeking pleasure, and—most importantly—does not understand the world or make decisions using logic and reason, but in terms of what feels enjoyable and what doesn't.

We tend to call this system our inner child.

When we punish our inner child, that child starts doing exactly what Loki does and resorts to malicious and petty tricks. We can hold this behavior at bay until something causes us to "snap" (like Jörmungandr's tail does) and out comes the malice of the disenfranchised inner child, which creates a terrible cascade of social consequences for us.

Now, if we were to listen to these stories as kids, we would naturally be very upset whenever Loki was threatened of punished, because we think out of the limbic system at that age and Loki is meant to represent us—specifically, the state of being a kid. We would see what comes to pass, with Loki being imprisoned and fighting the gods against Ragnarok, and it would become clear to us that there's consequences for punishing mischief AND also causing too much of it.

Now I don't know about you, but I was very motivated by a sense of justice as a kid. Hearing Loki's arc would have inspired me to learn how to be friends with my sense of mischief while also learning to use it in ways that were cooperative and social, because this would have been how I could right the wrong I felt was done to Loki. It would also mean my own limbic system will not fight against me in the future, but be a modality of thought I can always access. (This is the beauty of the way the Norse myths are crafted; they are designed to instill knowledge of the world using mechanisms that reinforce one's own sense of agency and competency, so rather than being told the moral of this tale, it sets me up to run right into the conclusion it wants me to draw, but in a way that makes me feel smart and therefore inspires me to value it.)

The binding of Fenrir serves a similar allegory. When we become explosively angry in the way that Fenrir represents, it consumes our wisemind the same way Fenrir consumes Odin during Ragnarok. But this only happens if we bind Fenrir/our anger. By demonizing this nature of ours simply for existing, it will not only refuse to listen to us, but also turn against us. Remember that Fenrir was willing to socialize and cooperate with the gods before his betrayal.

(Honestly, I believe this is why ulfheiðnar existed the way they did. Even though the animalistic rage of ulfheiðnar was too terrible for domestic society, it was not demonized, but instead given a social function. People would learn to understand and partner with their own sense of rage, and I'm guessing this is also how they were able to keep their sense of reason and priorities straight even while going berserk from psychoactives.)

These two examples serve to illustrate how societal collapse stems from binding or punishing our own natures. But also fearing our own nature as mortals factors into it.

For example, Naglfar. This is a ship constructed of dead people's fingernails, and its completion is part of what signals the beginning of Ragnarok. But as the story goes, we can delay Naglfar's construction by trimming the nails of the dead before we bury them.

Naglfar represents "neglect for the dead," and this is significant because the act of no longer viewing the dead as people is sort of like the canary in the coal mine for no longer view each other as people...and no longer seeing people as people is what defines Ragnarok.

A society is at peace when its people have no fear of death, and having no fear of death comes only by incorporating death as a normal and familiar part of life, just like we do with birth. Our relationship with death is a litmus test for our relationship with our own humanity—if we fear the dead and cannot see them as human beings, then we are always going to fear a part of our own humanity, and be at war with it. The simple act of keeping the nails of the dead well-groomed because it stalls Naglfar's construction was a way to remind people why such a simple act was profoundly important.

And these are just the things that I can think of off the top of my head that are the most obvious examples. There are—and I shit you not—multitudes of these things laced within the Norse myths.

(I haven't even gotten to the part about how the Norse creation myth uses what the womb feels like to characterize it. Telling this story to very little children helps them establish a sense of familiarity, belonging, and secure attachment with the entire world from the get-go. If they learn the world is everything they've already experienced, then their bodies will never be afraid of it, because nothing about it will feel unknown or unknowable. Like, how fucking dope can you get.)

So here's where we get to the really dense irony of all this: Why we don't pick up on all these nuances as Westerners and have so far missed this entirely.

It is for two reasons.

The first is because our society values the things that the Norse people identified as contributing to societal collapse—namely, the act of conquering/competing against other forces and conquering/competing against our own natures. The transgressions of the Aesir are not things we register as problematic because to us they're normal.

The second is that we don't think animistically. The way we are taught to convey, interpret, and transmit information is designed PURELY by and for the prefrontal cortex, with neglect to everything else (if you ever wonder why Americans look weird in how we behave, this is why). But because we only prioritize communicating this way, we're missing out on all the context added within the Norse myths. These myths function the same way Old Norse kennings did, in that they are designed to speak to ALL areas of the brain at once and in tandem, but if we only engage with it using one part of the brain, we're only going to get a small piece of the picture and the rest is going to look weird.

(Little experiment for you: Try to logic something out in your mind or think through a complex problem without using words or sentences to do it. Use any other kind of thought-process besides language. I promise you that not only is this possible, but it yields a completely different kind of experience and conclusion than you might otherwise reach.)

Honestly, I don't even think Snorri himself fully understood what he was looking at when he was recording the Norse myths. I think he was just writing them down according to how they were told, word-for-word. But his cluelessness is our good fortune now, because he not only preserved the cultural stories, but also what I consider an entire cognitive technology.

And every time I look at it, I can't help but think about the generations of people who sat around the fire in the dead of winter, weaving, crafting, and figuring out better ways to fortify their society, raise kids so they became fine and truly fearless people, and conserve information. This is, as far as I'm concerned, real magic.

They knew some shit.

#ragnarok #zan speaks #norse paganism #I'm sorry if this is incomprehensible #I tried

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trans-axolotl · 3 months

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ID: Intersex activist Max Beck standing in front of the American Academy of Pediatrics with a sign that says Silence=Death.

On October 26th, 1996, the first ever protest for intersex liberation in America took place when activists from Hermaphrodites With Attitude took to the streets to protest the American Academy of Pediatrics. Later memorialized as intersex awareness day, this important action was a milestone for the American intersex movement. Max Beck, one of the intersex activists from HWA, documented the entire protest and later published their recollection in the Intersex Awakening Issue of the Chrysalis Journal. The full piece is pasted under the cut.

"But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred.

I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America. One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience.

We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!"

Hermaphrodites With Attitude Take to the Streets: By Max Beck, 1997

In late October of 1996, Hermaphrodites with Attitude took to the streets, in the first public demonstration by intersexuals in modern history. On a glorious fall day, the like of which you can only find in New England, under a crackling, cloudless sky, twenty-odd protesters joined forces to picket the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians in Boston. Deeply aware of the historical and personal significance of the action, and — correctly — surmising that a notebook diary would not be practical on such a whirlwind, windy week-end, I took a small hand-held tape recorder with me. What follows are excerpts from the resulting transcript.

October 24, 1996 2:45 PM, Atlanta’s Hartsfield International Airport

The trip has only just begun and I am already exhausted. Hot. Starving. Fifteen minutes until take-off. Every businessman boarding the plane looks like a pediatric endocrinologist, Boston-bound. Silly thought, testimony to what? My anxiety? My fear? My giddy anticipation? If these bespectacled, suit-and-tie sporting men were pediatricians, would they be flying coach on Continental, with a layover in Newark? I’m headed for Boston, for the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians (AAP). Tens of thousands of pediatricians. I’m not a pediatrician, though, nor am I a nurse; in fact, I barely managed to complete my B.A. I’m a manager of a technical laboratory. We don’t work with children, and the AAP certainly didn't invite me, so why am I going?

With the plane taxiing toward take-off, this is a lousy time to reassess. I’m going. I’m going because I am intersexed. I’m going because the doctors and nurses who treated me as an infant and a child and an adolescent, and those who continue to treat intersexed infants and children today, consider me “lost to follow-up.” I was lost— that’s part of the problem. Now, I’m back.

9:02 PM: Boston’s North End

I’m comfortably ensconced in Alice’s warehouse condo in Boston’s North End, a renovated warehouse with a view of the city skyline, ceilings easily twenty feet high, exposed beams and brick, gorgeous tile floor. As I speak, my hostess is preparing an absolutely phenomenal meal. The aroma of roasted peppers permeates the entire space. Tomorrow, the work begins; my project this evening is to unwind and enjoy this wonderful meal. Easier said than done. I’m feeling excited, enervated, I feel very alive, something I don’t feel very often, I feel very present and aware. It could be my exhaustion, it could be the Chardonnay. But I think, rather, that the excitement is anticipation about what we are about to do. Being here, finally being prepared to raise a voice, to be heard, to be seen, a vocal, out, proud hermaphrodite who is standing up to say, “Let’s rethink this, this isn’t working, we’ve been hurt, stop what you’re doing, listen to us!” I’m really looking forward to meeting Morgan at the airport in the morning; it’s always amazing to make eye contact with someone else who has been there.

October 25, 7:38 AM Boston Commons

En route to my encounter with the AAP, walking the approximately two miles from my hostess’ domicile to the Marriott Hotel at Copley Square, I pause in the Boston Commons to enjoy a park bench, to sip my Starbuck’s decaf, and to watch a group of senior citizens performing Japanese swordsmanship on top of the hill beneath a monument to some forgotten general. The city is cool this morning, but clear, and it promises to be a beautiful weekend. That’s good: we won’t be rained out. I’ve got a stack of about ninety ISNA brochures in the bag at my side, crammed in the inside pocket of my leather jacket. If I want these pamphlets to get inside, I’ve got to get to the site of the Nurses’ Panel at the Marriott before they close the doors. Then it’s back out to the airport, to pick up Morgan. My feet are already killing me.

October 26, 9:15 AM: North End

Morgan and I are sitting at our hostess’ breakfast table, pulling our thoughts together. In a few minutes, we’ll have to leave to pick up Riki at the airport. The logistics of pulling together an action are mind-boggling. There’s no describing the thrill, though, of all that work, all those phone calls, all those miles. Riding a clattering subway on a Saturday morning, seated beside another living, breathing, laughing, swearing intersexual, hugging near-strangers at unfamiliar airports, then riding back, together, defiant, determined, organized, to the heart of so much of our pain, so much of our anger, so much of our need. We gathered in front of the huge Hynes Auditorium, pamphlets and leaflets in hand, and met the AAP attendees as they left the convention center for lunch. The next hour-and-a-half was a blur, as we positioned ourselves in strategic locations before the Hynes, held signs and “Hermaphrodites with Attitude” banner aloft, distributed our literature, engaged AAP members and passers-by in conversation and debate, spoke to microphones, to cameras. In all that time, I recorded only one fragment of a breathless sentence.

Saturday, 12:20 PM Outside the Hynes

We’ve got all the exits covered, and it’s an incredible, incredibly empowering experience. I remember the words I spoke to the TV camera, if only because I had scribbled a rough outline on the airplane, pirating mightily from Cheryl’s press release. And because the moment was so salient, so real. Me, Max, bespectacled, with blisters on my feet and chapped lips, speaking out to untold numbers of invisible viewers (and a few bewildered pediatricians behind me.)

"When an intersex child is born, parents and caregivers are faced with what seems to be a terrible dilemma: here is an infant who does not fit what our society deems normal. Immediate medical intervention seems indicated, in order to spare the parents and the child the inevitable stigmatization associated with being different. Yet the infant is not facing a medical emergency; intersexuality is rarely if ever life-threatening. Rather, the psychosocial crisis of the parents and caregivers is medicalized.

Intersexuality is assumed to be a birth defect which can be corrected, outgrown and forgotten. The experiences of members of the intersex support groups indicate that intersexuality cannot be fixed; an intersex infant grows up to be an intersex adult. This hasn’t been explored, because intersex patients are almost invariably “lost to follow-up.” The abstract of a talk that will be given at this very conference by a doctor who treats intersex infants concedes that “the psychological issues surrounding genital reconstruction are inadequately understood.”

Part of the problem is that we were lost to follow-up, and there were reasons for that. But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred. I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America.

One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience. We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!

7:20 PM: Boston’s North End

Goddess, this is so sweet, so liberating! I was so reluctant a week ago, having my Jesus-in-Gethsemane experience, reluctant to accept — not an onus or responsibility but — to accept who I am. And here’s where the hard work really begins. I’m exhausted when I think of the road before us. But then, it’s nothing like the road behind us.

Max Beck, 1997.

#personal #actuallyintersex #intersex #intersex history #intersex pride #h slur #hwa #isna

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that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict · 7 months

Text

"Baby we're high on you."

Drug Dealer!Seonghwa x f!reader x Drug Dealer!Hongjoong

Shout-out to @seventhcallisto for helping me with the planning and writing of the smut scene <333 Do check out her writing!

Parts 3/3 of Drug Dealer! Seonghwa

>>Part 1:"She's a regular here..."

>>Part 2:"Use me like a drug!"

CW: threesome, unprotected sex (stay safe guys), switch!matz, drug dealers!matz, mentions of illegal activity, a little bxb action, lmk if I missed out anything!!

< [y/n]’s dms with Seonghwa >

Hwa 💞: sweetheart?

Hwa 💞: I kinda need need your help with something

Hwa 💞: It's a big favour…

you: What is it? You know I'll help however I can

Hwa 💞: Well, Joong and I need a safe place to stay at

Hwa 💞: That big raid on PARADIGM is happening soon, and many dealers are closing shop temporarily to avoid getting caught in the crossfire from the probable gang clash, MATZ included

Hwa 💞: Do you think we could crash at your college dorm for a week or two?

Hwa 💞: It's completely fine if it's too much of an inconvenience, of course!

you: Hwa, I'd love to have you guys stay over! My roommate is actually flying off tomorrow to visit her parents in her home country. She'll be gone for the next month, so you guys are free to stay longer than 2 weeks if you need to <3

Hwa 💞: Thank you so much, my love 🫶

< Present >

Your fuzzy socks swished against the floorboards when you scrambled over to the front door at the sound of the doorbell. Quickly pulling a stray lock of hair aside to make yourself look a little more presentable, you unlocked the door, coming face-to-face with your raven-haired boyfriend.

“Seonghwa!! You're here!”

You practically launched yourself into Seonghwa's arms, earning a chuckle from him. He tilted his head downwards to kiss your hair, wild hair strands tickling the tattooed skin on his neck. You hummed appreciatively in response, and snuggled into his snakeskin blazer. The two of you stayed this way for a moment. An annoyed voice from behind Seonghwa suddenly spoke up.

“If you guys are done making me feel single, I'd like to be able to put down my things.”

You leaned around your boyfriend to see his best friend and partner-in-crime (literally), Hongjoong, standing behind him, the fur from his fluffy winter hat seemingly irritating his eyes. He stumbled slightly under the weight of the heavy duffle bag slung across his shoulder. “Oh, sorry– let me help you with that,” you mumbled. He sighed and shook his head. “No, I'm sorry, you're the one helping us out here. I'm just feeling annoyed because of all the admin work we had to do for a fucking gang clash that we're not even involved in.”

You let him step around you to enter the apartment, while Seonghwa patted his best friend on the shoulder. “It's for safety precautions, Joong. Closing MATZ temporarily is better than possibly losing it, we've talked about this.” Hongjoong huffed in response from the living room, a loud thump indicating that he had plopped himself on the couch there.

Once certain that Hongjoong was out of earshot, Seonghwa leaned downwards, gesturing to you to listen carefully.

“Hongjoong's been more stressed from this whole ordeal. Usually he just has to deal with shipment schedules and arrangements, but the raid on PARADIGM gave him a lot more work to do, what with the postponing of shipments and smuggling tactics. He's also super ticked off about having to close shop, even though it's just temporary. Personally I feel like his current workload is equivalent to what I deal with on a daily basis, but, you know, to each his own.”

You listened attentively to his words, giggling quietly at Seonghwa's sassy remark at the end. He smiled and gave you a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks again for letting us stay over, sweetheart. We'll look after ourselves and do some chores around the place while you're at lectures, hm?”

“That would be so sweet of you. Though I'm honestly not complaining, since it means I get more time with you…”

“Mmm, I thought the same. But we,” Seonghwa's eyes lingered pointedly at the shorter man in your living room, “Won't cause any trouble. Promise.”

“I'll take your word for it, baby.”

Over the next few days, Seonghwa did indeed keep his promise of not causing any trouble. Emphasis on just Seonghwa. His best friend, on the other hand, was the exact opposite.

The living arrangements were as such: Seonghwa would sleep with you in your room, and Hongjoong would sleep on the couch in the living room. However, it wasn't long before you and Seonghwa found out that Hongjoong was secretly still doing deals with clients. And he was hiding his products in the crevices of your sofa. “The grind never stops, I gotta make that bag,” he'd protested when you confronted him about a box of ice that was shoved under a couch cushion. But thanks to Seonghwa's unlikely, but still plausible, argument of getting your dormitory raided under police investigation for illegal activities, he was able to get the younger man to get rid of the goods. Also, it wouldn't have been a very good look on you if Yujin, your roommate, came back to find tiny jars of weed rolling around under the couch.

Eventually, to prevent him from pulling another similar stunt again, Seonghwa and you agreed to let him sleep in Yujin's room, which was right next to yours and would let Seonghwa keep an ear on his best friend's movements. Hongjoong had readily agreed to this. Now both the threat of getting into trouble with the cops and the threat of dealing with Kim “your-couch-gave-me-a-fucking-backache” Hongjoong every morning were out of the way.

A few days passed after the new arrangements were made, and there was a particular morning that Hongjoong started acting weird around you.

It was the morning after the three of you had sat down together for a drink, celebrating you finally submitting a paper that had been torturing you for a week. Having gotten blackout drunk for the first time in a while, you didn't remember what had happened after waking up in the morning. You'd assumed that Seonghwa had just carried you back to bed after you'd fallen asleep from the alcohol (it wasn't the first time your boyfriend's had to deal with your drinking habits).

Yawning and scratching at your neck, you stepped out into the hallway, head aching from the hangover and stomach grumbling for something savoury. The sound of water running in the shared bathroom indicated that Seonghwa was taking his usual morning shower, so you decided to make breakfast for everyone. You stumbled slightly into the kitchen/dining room, surprised to see Hongjoong slumped over a cup of coffee at the kitchen island.

“Joong?”

The man jumped slightly at you calling him. He'd evidently been spacing out before you made your presence known. He dipped his head at you, his unusually jittery eyes avoiding contact with your own.

“Good morning y/n…”

“Why're you up so early? I usually don't see you awake and aware of your surroundings until lunchtime.”

“Ah… I slept earlier than usual after that drink with you and Hwa. So I managed to get up earlier.”

Hongjoong took your hum as an approval. Sure, it was a lie, but you didn't know that. His breath hitched when you stretched your arms back, letting out a quiet moan at the same time.

“You okay, Joong? Did you drink too much last night?”

“A-ah, yeah…uhm, in fact, I really need to go lie down right now.”

“Oh, but I was about to make breakfast for us…”

“There's no need to make a portion for me! I'll join you and Seonghwa later for lunch, maybe.”

You pursed your lips at his hurried response, but shrugged it off. Hongjoong hopped off the elevated kitchen island stool, shuffling back down the hall and into his temporary room.

Once inside, he groaned and bit his lip, nearly drawing blood from how hard his teeth dug into his lip. Memories of the night before flashed through Hongjoong's mind. Lying alone in bed, shamelessly listening to you and his best friend fuck relentlessly on the other side the wall. Turns out you'd forgotten how horny excessive alcohol would make you. And the walls were, evidently, very very thin.

Hongjoong whined pathetically at the raging boner in his shorts, which had formed when you were talking to him in the kitchen. How was he supposed to face you after overhearing you at your most vulnerable state? How could he, after hearing your whimpers and cries of “Seonghwa, harder~”, his best friend's name that slipped out of your mouth like a prayer? How could he, after he had snuck a hand down his shorts, stroking himself to the rhythm of your melodious moans? He swore under his breath, making a promise to himself to just avoid talking to you alone until the gang clash was over, and he could finally leave.

That, however, proved very hard to do, especially with an intuitive man like Park Seonghwa in the premises. Being the observant person he is, he quickly picked up on Hongjoong's closed-off body language and evasive responses to your small talk. He immediately figured out exactly what was bothering Hongjoong, too. After all, on that night, Seonghwa was drunk but still aware enough to know that the younger man had probably overheard him fucking his needy girlfriend into the mattress. The only difference was that while it bothered Hongjoong and made him all flustered and embarrassed, it had actually been a major turn-on for Seonghwa himself. There had been plenty of instances when he had made out with or had sex with you in his office, the premise of possibly getting caught by his business partner always spurring him on. Sadly, Hongjoong had never actually walked in on it happening. However, staying in the same house as the two of you made it bound to happen. And it did nothing but excite Seonghwa. He would surely exploit this.

☆☆☆

Nearly 2 weeks into his and Seonghwa's stay at your dorm, Hongjoong laid across the bed, mindlessly reloading his messages. He groaned. Never would he have known that he'd ever actually miss the usual stream of texts from clients ordering from MATZ’s supply. It was quiet. Too quiet. He hopped up from the bed, opting to go watch a movie in the living room to pass some time. You and Seonghwa had gone out for a late-night convenience store run, and had taken Hongjoong's request for a dessert.

Plopping down on the couch, Hongjoong winced at the memory of sleepless nights on the cramped cushions. Sure, now he was sleeping in an actual bed, but with the things he's overheard next to his temporary room, was it really any better than the lumpy couch? His mind began wandering at this thought again. He bit his lip shamefully when he imagined your muffled moaning and whines from that night. He stared at the growing tent in his sweats, contemplating silently on whether he should do something about it.

Just as he was reaching for the boner between his legs, the familiar clatter and squeak of a key came from the door. Hongjoong quickly shoved a cushion over his lap and pointed the remote at the TV, playing a random movie to look occupied.

“Joong! Hwa and I are back!”

“And we got that rice pudding you asked for~”

You and Seonghwa walked into the living room, shrugging off jackets that were slightly wet from rainwater. Had it been raining? Hongjoong was too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice. He smiled gratefully at Seonghwa when he handed him a plastic bag, no doubt containing his beloved pudding. Hongjoong's eyes momentarily flickered up to the “MATZ” tattoo scrawled across his best friend's neck.

Drops of sweat and rainwater trickled down the blurred black lines and Seonghwa's dewy skin. Seonghwa was panting slightly, a red tinge on his pale face, possibly from running in the rain earlier on. Hongjoong's mind wandered again. Does Seonghwa pant like that and look like that when he fucks you? Would you kiss against his sweaty neck when he has you bent in half?

“Joong? I asked you if you need a spoon…”

Hongjoong snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Seonghwa speaking. He nodded quickly and mumbled a “yeah”, still avoiding eye contact with both Seonghwa and you. What the fuck? Why was he daydreaming about the both of you now? Maybe the lack of activity and work was really driving him mad. He didn't notice you standing at the nearby kitchen island, exchanging mischievous glances with Seonghwa who was leaning against the couch backing.

“Hey Hongjoong, have you been doing alright?”

“H..huh? What? Why are you asking?”

“You've been so closed off lately. Both Hwa and I have noticed it.”

Your voice was laced with sympathy, hiding your intentions. Hongjoong sighed tiredly and scratched at his neck. You made eye contact with your boyfriend, fighting the urge to smile at his knowing glance.

“Uh, yeah, I'm good… probably just getting used to the new sleeping arrangements.”

“No way, you miss sleeping on that crappy, old couch? I didn't take you for a masochist, Joong.”

Walking over to sit next to the younger man, Seonghwa prodded teasingly at him. You slid over and joined the duo on the couch, sitting on Hongjoong's other side. Hongjoong was still oblivious to yours and his best friend's movements, his fists clutched tightly on the cushion covering his rock-hard dick.

“I'm good… Just a little stressed about not being able to work, probably.”

“Ahhh, I see~ You must be really tense.”

“Mhm, look at him, Hwa! His shoulders are so stiff and tight.”

Without warning, you reached out and put your hands on Hongjoong's shoulders, giving an experimental squeeze. What neither you nor Seonghwa expected, however, was for a deep, drawn-out moan to escape from Hongjoong's lips.

Hongjoong's eyes widened and filled with panic at the realisation of what he did. Waving his hands frantically at yours and Seonghwa's blank stares, he jumped up from the couch and started talking at what seemed like a hundred syllables-per-second.

“Oh fuck oh shit I'm so sorry- I don't know why I made that noise, I've just been so tense and like stressed and shit- honestly speaking my shoulders are really sensitive, too, so like-”

The couch cushion slipped off his lap in his frenzy. Unbeknownst to him, this made you and Seonghwa notice the raging boner in his sweats. Hongjoong didn't even clock the knowing glance you and your boyfriend shared, instead continuing to ramble a stream of apologies.

“Hongjoong.”

“--I know, I know, it was extremely inappropriate for me to fucking moan in front of your girlfriend, Hwa!! Please forget what you just–”

“Kim Hongjoong!! I know you heard us fucking the other night!”

Both yours and Hongjoong's eyes grew as wide as saucers.

“Baby, what… what d'you mean?”

Your lips trembled, a deep blush appearing on your face as you hesitated to speak up. Your boyfriend had told you that Hongjoong had been sexually frustrated recently, but he'd conveniently left out the part about him overhearing the two of you having sex. Wait, was that why Hongjoong was horny in the first place?

Seonghwa offered you a soft, reassuring glance in response, the subtle clench of your thighs not going unnoticed by his sharp eyes. He quickly turned his gaze back to the man standing dumbfounded in front of the two of you.

He had never seen his best friend look so taken aback, flustered and embarrassed, all at the same time. Hongjoong's face was paused on an expression that screamed “oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-shit”. Seonghwa maintained a stern look, with you shifting uncomfortably behind him. The room suddenly felt very, very warm.

“Seonghwa, look, I….”

Hongjoong finally opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off almost immediately.

“Do you wanna have sex with us?”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Hongjoong stared, bewildered, at Seonghwa, wondering if all the weed he did was finally catching up to him.

“I– excuse me?”

“Yeah, Hwa, what the fuck..?”

Seonghwa scoffed at both of you. He arched his neck onto the back of the couch, the tattoo on his neck seemingly dancing seductively against his skin as he did so. He slid a veiny hand down to your exposed thigh, cold rings against your skin earning a shuddering sigh from you. He smirked when he saw Hongjoong's boner twitch in his sweatpants.

“Don't act like you guys haven't thought about it! Hongjoong, I've seen how your eyes linger on my sweetheart's pretty tits when she wears her tank tops around the house. I'm not blind, I always catch you checking out my ass and my neck, too. You want both of us, don't you? And Y/N, right now, I can see you squeezing your thighs.”

Hongjoong watched with bated breath as Seonghwa's finger slid into the opening of your shorts. You jumped a little when his thick fingertip made contact with your soaking-wet panties.

“Fuck, babygirl, you got turned on from knowing that my best friend heard me fucking you into the sheets? You're so wet for us, so dirty, hm?”

You whined at his words, body instinctively leaning closer to him, before dazedly nodding in acknowledgement. Seonghwa smiled at this. He really knew your body and your kinks like the back of his goddamn hand. He then whipped his head at Hongjoong, who was slowly inching away, evidently debating between staying to see what was going to happen, or changing his name and fleeing the country.

“So? What d'you say to a threesome?”

“I…”

Hongjoong's eyes darted uncertainly to you. You were leaning against Seonghwa, eyes glazed over and looking very needy. Seonghwa cooed at you, at the same time reassuring the hesitant man.

“Don't worry. The two of us have talked about having sex together with another person. She's honestly as into it as I am, and who else would be a better candidate than my hot best friend?”

Hongjoong bit his lip in deep thought. Despite his years of friendship with Seonghwa, he did often think of the two of you at the same time, especially on those lonely nights in his bed. Even before he overhead you fucking. After all, you were a very hot couple. He attempted to reason with himself, taking a brief moment to weigh the pros and cons. But his dick was so hard it felt like it was gonna burst. And this could be the opportunity of a lifetime. Heck, it was practically being served to him on a silver-fucking-platter.

“Fuck, man, let's do it.”

♡♡♡

Seonghwa’s tough hands had gently spread your legs apart for Hongjoong. The other waited with bated breath when he finally got a good look at your damp panties. “Fuck” he hissed under his breath, and Seonghwa's lip quirked up into a smirk. Peering back up to look into your dazed eyes, Seonghwa parted one of his hands from your thighs to gently skim his fingers over your slit, causing your thighs to jolt. “Seonghwa~” you whined gently, turning your head into the pillow. “You're so wet babygirl” he murmured, glancing to Hongjoong who had been sitting there, his hands balled into his lap to keep them to himself.

“Go on joong, touch her,” he retreated his hand after skimming your clit through the fabric, another low moan falling from your lips. “And you, baby, don't move an inch” Seonghwa's voice spoke up once more, in a sterner tone this time. Hongjoong didn't have to be told twice, with a single look to confirm, he shifted to laying between your wide hips, guiding your legs over his shoulders.

You were soaked. Evidence lingered on the expansion of your panties, a dark patch of wetness that Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to indulge himself in. Taste and get lost in. His fingers parted your folds through the fabric, thumbing your clit gently as he ran his fingers around your slick. You breathily whimpered, already tired of the teasing - but willing to take it slow for Hongjoong.

“You look so fucking pretty,” Seonghwa groaned by your ear, lying next to you to hold your hips down. He knew you tended to get a little overzealous with your movements. You whimpered at the praise, guiding your hand through your boyfriend's hair to tug him on your mouth, a mess of tongue and teeth, the slight chill of his grillz, even when he pulled away to begin kissing along your neck. Generously pulling your shirt over your chest so he could shove his hands into the warmth of your breasts, kneading the flushed flesh.

“Not even a bra, fuck, wanted to play with these pretty tits as soon as I saw you in this tight ass shirt,” he hummed into your neck. Before you could reply, Hongjoong placed an open kiss on your clit through your panties, making you jolt.

Hongjoong’s tongue swept out to lick up the length of your cunt, humming at the taste of you, his nose ever so gently bumping against your clit every time he swipes through your folds, wetting you with his saliva and collecting all of the slick you've produced so far. A trail of heat building in your core from the foreplay, the rough pads of Seonghwa's expert fingers pinching and twirling your nipples has you clenching around nothing. With a whine, your head falls to the bed. “Hwa- joong- please,” you called out, needing to feel something in your pussy or else you'd go insane.

Or worse, beg for it. Hongjoong’s lashes parted to glance at Seonghwa. Lust, dark and heavy swirled in his eyes as soon as they clashed. Joong couldn't help but grind his hips forward into the bed, his cock catching at the front of his sweats, he swirls his thumb over your clit once again to apply more pressure. Watching Seonghwa squeeze once on your tits, exhorting another distorted sound from your lungs. “Are you gonna let Hongjoong play with that pretty pussy of yours, darling? Put his mouth and fingers all over you?” He murmurs, breath fanning over your ear.

You nodded your head eagerly, whimpering under your breath and shifting your thighs at the thought. The anticipation building up within you. Seonghwa's hand left your breast to grab your chin, pinching it enough so that your eyes popped open to see what he was doing.

Confidence was in every corner of Seonghwa's eyes, a dominance that would eat you alive. “Say it, sweetheart.” He purred, dropping his hand to crane your neck to look at Hongjoong, still rubbing circles into your sensitive bud.

His eyes - equally blown and lustful as Seonghwa's - were trained directly on you, your breath caught. “Hongjoong.. joong will you please touch my pretty pussy? Please.” You spoke with clearness, an eagerness only a person as demanding as Seonghwa would get out of you.

Hongjoong didn't need to be told twice.

He immediately dived in, tugging aside the crotch of your panties before attaching his mouth to your pussy. A loud moan tore from your throat when he began lapping at your already soaking folds. Surely your neighbours would've heard that, and would be complaining to you the next morning, but you could care less. He slurped relentlessly at your wetness, humming happily into your cunt, all while you squirmed and let out little “ah-ah”s for the two men. Music to their ears.

You cried out when Hongjoong's finger prodded the rim of your pussy, helplessly clawing at his hand to stuff his fingers in as far as possible. He scoffed under his breath, taken aback by your urgency.

“She's needy, isn't she, Joong?”

“Y-yeah, fuck…”

Seonghwa smirked at his best friend's reply, opting to tease him further when a mischievous remark came to mind.

“Bet you think about her crying for your cock, huh?”

Hongjoong blushed furiously at Seonghwa's cheeky accusation.

“S-shut up, man!”

He rolled his eyes at Seonghwa before stuffing his index and middle fingers into you. This pulled out a needy moan from you, twisting your fists into the sheets at the sensation of Hongjoong's fingers caressing your pussy walls. He couldn't help but groan at how your body just yearned for more and more of his touch. You clenched around on his fingers, cumming faster than expected. Hongjoong couldn't help but stare at you; breasts rising and falling from your orgasm, a thin layer of sweat that had formed on your dewy skin. He knew he just had to give you more.

Hongjoong looked nervously at Seonghwa, who was still laying leisurely across the bed and caressing your skin.

“Seonghwa… May I….”

“Hm?”

Hongjoong tried to speak up to the older man, but his words trailed off once more. Seonghwa knew what he was going to ask. And he already knew he would allow whatever it was. But was he going to let Hongjoong do it without saying it out aloud? No way in hell.

The prolonged eye contact between the two men made Hongjoong understood what Seonghwa was asking for. Sucking in a deep breath, he finally spoke.

“May I… Can I fuck her?”

Seonghwa's lips curled into a satisfied smile and he nodded, pleased with himself for having gotten Hongjoong to speak up for once.

Hongjoong fumbled with his belt, slipping it off with a click and pulling down his pants and boxers at once. His cock was rock hard and already leaking pre-cum. Even in your dazed state, you still marvelled over how girthy it was. It was not as long as your boyfriend's, but it was plenty thick and would definitely stretch you out. You whimpered when Hongjoong rubbed his tip over your entrance. He groaned at how your slick essentially served as a natural lube for him. Seonghwa cooed at you when you grabbed his hand for support.

“Aww, you wanna be stretched out by my best friend's cock, my love?”

“M-mhm, p-please~”

“It's his dick, not mine, sweetheart. Tell Hongjoong what you want.”

You mewled at Seonghwa's stern tone and turned shyly to the man standing between your legs. Sliding a hand down in between your thighs, you used your digits to stretch open your sopping pussy.

“Please fuck me, Joongie~”

If it was even remotely possible, Hongjoong felt himself grow even harder at your voice. How could someone be so fucking perfect? Who was he to deny you of your desires.

“Since you asked so nicely~”

Hongjoong chuckled and sank his dick into your hole, the wind in his lungs almost being knocked out from how perfectly warm you felt. He grunted and knitted his eyebrows in frustration, hips twitching slightly in place. It was taking everything in him not to just start thrusting into you at an animalistic pace. You sighed breathily when his girthy member pushed into you, whining quietly while trying to get used to his size. The entire time, Seonghwa was peppering kisses on your hand and rubbing his thumb soothingly over your forehead.

“That's it, love, you're doing so good for him, hm? It's almost like you were made for cock, baby, you look so precious right now.”

Your boyfriend hummed sweet nothings into your ear as you took deep breaths, your body slowly accommodating to take Hongjoong's thickness. When you were sufficiently stretched out enough, you nodded at Hongjoong, who gladly obliged to start moving.

The room filled with your whiny moans, mixed with Hongjoong's breathy grunts. Seonghwa watched on with a lustful gaze at the scene taking place before him; his best friend and business partner, rocking in and out of his sweet, beloved girlfriend's dripping pussy. He couldn't have been more turned on. He bit his lip at the sight of your cunt stretching out everytime Hongjoong pushed his dick into it, again and again. Your slick leaked out around his girthy member, giving it a sheen under the dim bedroom lights.

Seonghwa's eyes perked up when he noticed Hongjoong was starting to move faster. His thrusts grew more erratic and uneven, eliciting cries of “J-joongie wait!!” from you. Hongjoong was in the zone, his head thrown back and whines growing louder as his hips did anything but stop. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was about to cum.

This didn't sit right with Seonghwa. He could tell you hadn't cum yet, so why was Hongjoong rushing for his own orgasm already? Clearly he needed to be taught a lesson.

Seonghwa quickly got up and got behind Hongjoong, pulling him out of you and tossing him effortlessly onto the bed. You whimpered at the sudden loss of warmth, and Hongjoong let out a yelp of dissatisfaction. But before he could complain, Seonghwa held him down by his thighs and started furiously jerking off his leaky cock with his free hand.

Hongjoong's protests turned to desperate whines, his breathing growing increasingly turbulent, as his best friend twisted and pulled at his twitching cock. When he finally released, cumming all over his stomach and Seonghwa's hand. Seonghwa smiled, clearly pleased with himself. He jeered snarkily at Hongjoong.

“Looks like your stamina for fucking is the same as your stamina for your workload~”

Seonghwa then lifted his slender hand to his mouth, making it a point to slowly lick off Hongjoong's thick cum while making direct eye contact with him. The younger man watched with flickering eyelids, biting his lip so hard that it almost drew blood.

You watched the whole scene unfold with hooded eyes. Despite being upset over not being able to orgasm, you couldn't help but clench your thighs at the fucked-out look on Hongjoong's face.

After getting off Hongjoong, Seonghwa slid over to you, helping you to sit up and kissing you tenderly on your neck. Catching a look at your pouty expression, he murmured a quick apology and winked at you, before turning back to Hongjoong.

He'd finally recovered from his release, and was now looking irritably at Seonghwa.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“My sweetheart was nowhere near cumming, yet you were already chasing your own orgasm. Talk about selfish, Hongjoong.”

“Dude…”

Your boyfriend chuckled at the younger man's defeated body language.

“It's fine. We all make mistakes,” (cue Hongjoong looking offended as fuck) “Let me show you how to actually please an angel like her.”

Seonghwa laid you back onto the sheets, his eyes searching yours for any form of denial. Still such a gentleman even after he'd watched his best friend pound you like there was no tomorrow. You nodded eagerly, eager - heck, desperate - to give him any number of orgasms at this point. “My sweet girl,” he chuckled lightly into your ear, kissing down the valley of your breasts while slipping off his belt and pants.

You drooled at the sight of his cock lying against your thigh. No matter how many times you'd seen it, you could never get over how long and pretty it was. Flushed with beads of precum leaking from the tip, poised at an angle that hit your g-spot everytime without fail.

As Seonghwa lined himself up at your twitching hole, he turned to face Hongjoong, who was sitting on the other end of the bed and watching the two of you intently. His dick was already rock hard again. Seonghwa rubbed his hand up your thigh lovingly, actions clashing with the stern tone he would use to address the other man.

“Watch and learn, Hongjoong.”

He leisurely rolled his hips into yours, lengthy dick already rubbing against that sweet spot in you. You jolted at the sensation, hands immediately flying up to grip at his toned arms.

“Ah- ah, Seonghwa~!”

He grinned at how fast you were reacting for him, before setting a steady pace and leaving love bites all over your chest. He reached up to push your legs over his shoulders, strong grip leaving behind blurry red marks against your thighs. Your mind grew fuzzy within mere minutes. It was amazing how well your boyfriend knew your body. Your hands left his arms to curl into his hair, tugging lightly at his short, cute ponytail for support. His heavenly groans and your rhythmic moans mixed together like the symphony of an orchestra. Hongjoong could only watch and tug lightly at his dick, unsure of whose position he wanted to be in at that moment.

In between his heavy thrusts, Seonghwa made eye contact with you. He smiled radiantly, making your heart skip a beat. That loving, heartfelt look in his sparkly eyes and the expert movement of his hips pushed you over the edge. Your hips canted against his pelvis, orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave.

“S-seonghwa, I-!”

You let out a high-pitched mewl, body shaking as you creamed around your lover's dick. A white ring quickly formed around the base of his still-hard cock. Seonghwa hummed satisfactorily as he swiped at your dripping release and stuck his coated finger into your mouth. You gladly obliged, sucking on his fingertip, tasting the orgasm you'd given to him. The hazy look in your eyes only steered him on even more.

Seonghwa leaned down, voice barely above a whisper.

“Think you can give me another one, love? Maybe stick Joongie’s cock in your mouth while you're at it? After all, he didn't get to finish in you~”

“Hwaa….but only you can cum in me..?”

Pride bubbled in Seonghwa's chest at your response.

“Mmm, that's right, baby. But we have to give him some sort of consolation prize, especially since he's been so patient.”

Hongjoong's whiny voice suddenly cut him off.

“Fuck, the two of you are so frustratingly hot, but weren't you supposed to help me?? My balls are about to fucking burst, and you having your little moment isn't really helping.”

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, sighing dramatically at the man's impatience. He quickly made eye contact with you, smiling when you nodded, a green light for the night to continue.

“You're so needy, Joong… get your ass over here.”

You'd never seen anyone get up so fast and run over. Seonghwa sat on the edge of the mattress, directing for you to sit on his thighs, your back flush against his chest. Excitement tingled in your core when he lifted you easily, sinking you onto his erect dick. You closed your eyes for a moment, getting used to his lengthy cock resting in you. When you came to, Hongjoong stood in front of you, his own heavy, leaky dick out on display. His expression was a mix of relief and desperation.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, man, fuck, let's just get to it-”

“Shut up! I was talking to Y/n.”

Before you could giggle at the two men's bickering, Hongjoong shoved his dick into your mouth. You could feel it pulsating against the opening of your throat. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you began bobbing your head up and down on him. Hongjoong moaned shakily, hands finding the base of your neck for support.

“She's good at sucking cock, isn't she?”

Your boyfriend sounded proud. Hongjoong could only groan in response, nodding eagerly at the same time. Seonghwa quietly enjoyed the scene for a short while before he started to thrust lightly into you, veiny hands squeezing the plush flesh of your ass. You gasped around Hongjoong's girthy member, your whimpers sending vibrations through him. He couldn't help but shudder at the sight before him; his best friend's cute girlfriend expertly deepthroating him, while said best friend sat below her and grinded into her plush ass. Your plump lips enveloped Hongjoong's cock again and again, allowing him to fully enjoy the view. Watching the furrow of Seonghwa's eyebrows and beads of sweat dripping down his forehead was the cherry on top. Who knew such perfect scenery existed?

It wasn't long before both men's movements began speeding up. You whined pathetically, trying to keep up. Granted, they were both sensitive from the previous rounds, but so were you.

You began bouncing your ass on Seonghwa, while simultaneously gulping on Hongjoong. The three of you let out increasingly loud sounds that echoed around the room; Hongjoong's grunting, Seonghwa's frantic pants, and your desperate sobs. They blended together with the sounds of skin slapping and slurping to form a melody, one so lewd yet so exquisite, merely listening to it would be as good as taking an aphrodisiac.

Soon enough, Hongjoong climaxed, hot cum so thick and copious that some leaked out the sides of your mouth. You hit your third orgasm of the night, body convulsing at the overstimulation. Seonghwa came last, his breath hitching as he jerked his hips one more time into your cunt. Your mouth slipped off Hongjoong's dick, and you let your head fall back onto your boyfriend's shoulder. You dazedly swallowed the remaining cum on your tongue, making sure to make eye contact with Hongjoong in the process. You didn't bother to get off Seonghwa's dick, opting to sit on it and bask in the warmth that was his milky release leaking out of your used cunt.

The 3 of you panted heavily for a few minutes, clearly still processing one of, if not the best orgasm any of you had ever shared with another person. In this case, your first orgasm that you'd shared with 2 other very attractive people. You eventually spoke up, getting the attention of both men.

“Did… Did I do good for both of you?”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong turned your way, with a wobble in your voice you asked - struggling with your throat from the amount of dick you've taken.

“Good? Fuck, baby, we're high on you.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa unexpectedly spoke at the same time, making you giggle at how in sync they were. Seonghwa glanced up at Hongjoong, who was still coming down from his high.

“You finally relaxed, man?”

“Mm, yeah, Joongie, you were the whole reason we even did this…” you trailed off, pushing your hair out of your face gently.

“You bet I am,” Hongjoong sighed contentedly, before adding on, “Fuck, I don't even feel like going back to work anymore.. “

“Then I'd better not find any more weed in my couch! You have something else to think about, now.”

Hongjoong's eyebrows raised at your remark - disappearing into his sweaty bangs - surprised by your energy level.

“Aren't you exhausted?? You just took 2 dicks, you should be knocked out by now.'' Seonghwa chuckled at Hongjoong's remark, swiping his hand across your sweaty back.

“Oooo, he's got a point, sweetheart…I bet you could go for another round~”

You groaned and pulled off of Seonghwa, throwing yourself onto the other side of the bed. You pulled the sheets tight over your body, but not before shoving a pillow at the two men.

“Forget it!! You guys are mean. I think Joong rubbed off on you, Hwa!” You whined, clenching your thighs tightly- fluids still dripping from your core, despite the urge to roll over from the men - Seonghwa was already tilting towards you. Lightly palming your hip with a grin.

“Come on sweetheart, let's get you washed up."

Author's note:

Omgomg my first ever collab with another writer ahhh 🙌 the two of us worked very hard on this fic!! I hope you enjoyed it <33

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