#don’t let the fact that i post half naked pics full you

[suguruverse]

— BEING BEST FRIENDS WITH THE MSBY 4

includes - hinata shoyo, bokuto koutaro, miya atsumu and sakusa kiyoomi

a/n - for the sake of these hcs, the reader (you) is their manager <3 pls i love these boys so much!! enjoy <3

- no bc this is the friendship that i dream about

- im sorry but this friendship is basically you and sakusa just babysitting the other three

- i feel like put of all friendships, they would be the most overprotective idk why i just get the vibe

- all of them are attention deprived babies and will demand for your attention

- if you hang out with only one of them, the other three will start complaining to no end

- one time, sakusa invited you to come to a small cafe with him, and when you posted a selfie of the two of you in the cafe, atsumu literally called you hysterically crying about you neglecting him

- since you work with them and are best friends with them, you’re just always with them??

- and when you arrive at work, sakusa is surprisingly the first to hug and greet you

- but it’s just because he doesn’t want to hug you after atsumu, hinata and bokuto do

- AND AND AND when you arrive, they all get huge smiles on their faces when they see you 

- okay im crying moving on

- as much as atsumu and sakusa seem like the type of people to not listen to anyone, if you ask them to do something, they WILL do it without hesitation

- okay whenever you go interviews with them, it’s a fucking nightmare because they never calm down

- there have been WAYYYY too many dating scandals because 1. bokuto, hinata and atsumu are basically super affectionate golden retrievers 2. you live with omi and always go on grocery shopping dates together

- UGH IMAGINE GOING ON A MIDNIGHT GROCERY RUN WITH SAKUSA

- the other three HATE the fact that you and omi live together so they sleep over all the time

- you guys bring the mattresses out in the lounge room, lay them next to each other, cover them with blankets and pillows and have a movie marathon 😩

- bokuto is just attached at your hip. sorry don’t make the rules

- he just shows you so much affections and he doesn’t give a fuck where he is and who’s looking

- ONE TIME HE LITERALLY POSTED A PIC ON INSTA OF A PAPARAZZI PHOTO OF YOU TWO HUGGING AND THE CAPTION WAS “my best friend, my manager, the love of my life”

- PLS AND HE MEANT IN THE MOST PLATONIC WAY POSSIBLE, HE JUST THINKS THAT YOURE THE BEST PERSON TO EVER EXIST

- so many of your family and friends thinks that you’re dating all 4 of them

- if they have any fancy events to go to, they always go in a group and bring you as a plus one

- they all let you grab onto them and fidget with their hands or shirts whenever you’re nervous

- having eating competitions with atsumu, bokuto and hinata

- and sakusa has to take care of all of you guys because you ate too much

- whenever sakusa and atsumu have small petty fights, they always have to bring you into it to solve it

- the best hype men until they die

- bokutos insta feed is FULL of pictures of you guys hanging out 😔

- atsumus feed is just selfies of him (half naked mirror selfie’s) and embarrassing pics of hinata and bokuto

- you cannot tell me that these men won’t treat you like a fucking goddess

- they will force you to play volleyball with them

- if you just wanna hang out and chill at the beach, hinata is dragging your ass to the volleyball court and you’re not allowed to say no

- when they’re having a particularly hard practice, you love giving them little goodie bags with their favourite things in them

- they celebrate christmas with you and bokuto is santa every single year

- omi can cook a mean christmas dinner and while he’s cooking, you try to sneak a santa hat on him

- pls imagine doing drunk karaoke with them at christmas

- you have your own manager jacket but they always give you theirs

- and when you can’t sleep, omi cuddles you and tells you bedtime stories 😾

gc name: msby black jackasses (jackal)

sakusa: has anyone seen y/n, it’s pretty late and she’s not home

hinata: she’s still at the gym, me and bo just finished up and she stayed back to clean some more, “manager duties” she called it

atsumu: HUH YOU AND BO LEFT HER ALONE AT THE GYM THIS LATE???

bokuto: she said we could!!

sakusa: that was extremely irresponsible, what is something happens to her?

hinata: we’re at the restaurant near the gym, do you want us to pick her up?

sakusa: no need i’m on my way

you: omi!! you don’t need to pick me up, i’m okay 😼

atsumu: sweetheart let him, i doubt he would even be able to sleep tonight if you drove home alone this late

you: it’s okay, me nd bo take self defense classes together 💪🏻💪🏻

bokuto: yeah she tackled me :((

sakusa: i’m around the corner, wait inside until you see my car

hinata: wait like 15 mins

atsumu: why

hinata: me and bo are nearly done eating, omi can you drop us off while you’re at it

sakusa: no, drive yourself, i don’t have room in my car

bokuto: omi please 🥺

sakusa: y/n i’m here

you: coming!!

atsumu: that’s what she said

sakusa: miya shut up

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#246

“Here boy. I know who and what you are. Do you know who I am?… Liar. You’re a faggot liar. Yes you do. You have been drooling over me for weeks now. Follow me. I got us a room at the motel next door….

“The regulars here at the diner don’t care that I prefer fucking faggots like you over broads. I just don’t broadcast it like you do. I’ve seen you talking to some of the boys I have fucked. You know I have a big dick and that I pile drive boy cunt.

“I’ve seen you in the parking lot. You watch the guys like me going into the bookstore across the lot. You want to follow them in, but the bookstore won’t let you. They know you’re underage. Until today. Now you are legal to fuck. Yeah, I know your 18th birthday is today. I know a lot of things about you. I know you cruise the bookstore, and the bathroom the bar shares with the diner. I know you are finishing up at high school.

“Here’s our room. I fuck the owner and he let’s me use a secluded empty room whenever I need. So, you can scream when I tear up your cunt. Having a big dick has many many many advantages. I need to let off some steam from a long day on the farm. Get naked, I’m gonna get the ropes out. My reputation is well known that I am a twisted fucker. Hell my conquests told you the such, and yet you came with me here.

“Always remember this, I am always in control of everything. Right now, that includes you. Naked. And then get on your knees and face me. See, it’s natural for you to follow orders. And where’s your phone?… Hand it to me…. Continue stripping. Well,… You’re kinda scrawny. You’ve never worked a hard day at anything, and it shows. Damn your pecker is tiny. That’s the way I like it. My cock is fucking huge, and you need to realize your place is on your knees in front of real men. You will never be a real man. You do know that, right?…

“You know what I want you to do. I want you to beg me to fuck you. I want you to beg me to brutalize your cunt. And while you are begging me and degrading and humiliating yourself, I will be jacking off to you. Having a big dick requires a little extra tugging to get hard. I know you wouldn’t know anything about that. You are too focused on your cunt. And call it a cunt a number of times, especially when you are fingering it. I want you to tell me that you need for me to rape you. Your goal is to degrade yourself. Tell me how much of a faggot you are. And focus on your tiny clit there. Tell me how you envy any real man with a real sized dick. And the thing I need for you to beg me to rape you—not have sex, not make love—rape. Use that word often.

“Here look up at me, at your phone. Thanks for letting me use your face to unlock it. I will be recording this on your phone. I want you to have a record of how low you are. I want you to watch this every morning as you are about to jack off at home. Speaking of jacking off, I should take my cock out for you. Damn, even totally limp, it’s way bigger than yours hard.

“You have three minutes to fully degrade yourself. Go!…

“…That’s time. Ok. See how big you got me? The full nine and a half inch dick, ready to rape the hell out of you. Crawl over here and blow me, but first put on this blindfold. I don’t want you to see anything. Good, now show me how good you are as a faggot cocksucker. Throat me to the nut. Put as much spit on it as you can. That’s pretty much the lube I will be using to tear your cunt up. Maybe if you are good, I will use some spit on the cunt. Take your time, but throat me. Get into it faggot. I’m gonna chill here… Open that fucking throat… Gag on that monster….

“You really are pathetic. Get your ass on the bed, face down. Need to tie you down. What? Now you want out? Aww hell the fuck no. I said on the fucking bed. Ok. You really want this to be a rape don’t you? Look I know my way around ropes and tying up livestock. I do work in a farm, and I am a part of the local rodeo. Calling out for help ain’t going to help.

“And, I sent myself a copy of that video where you are begging me to rape you and to show you no mercy. Nobody will believe you. Just a few more seconds, and there! You ain’t going nowhere now. You are going to be in that position for some time. Your cunt is on display, ready to be mounted.

“But first, I’m going to fuckin’ welt you up. I got my son’s belt here; mine doesn’t move through the air as nicely as his, and besides I’m still wearing mine. You don’t even deserve me stripping for you. When it comes to whipping, I don’t stop to let you recover.

“Being your birthday, It’s eighteen strokes in a row. Start your fucking screaming now. One, two, three,… louder fucker, you deserve every one of these strokes… Eight, nine, ten,… I can already see the welts forming. Oh yeah, bright red cheeks get me leaking. When I hit number twenty-five, I’m going right to the root whether or not you are ready. And it’s not going to take me very long to nut in you. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and… eighteen.

“Quit your crying faggot. Here, bite down on my son’s belt. You really have me leaking here. And… all the way in. Fuck yes! This cunt hasn’t been fucked much, has it? Stop your screaming, I asked you a fucking question. You get fucked much?… No?… Wait, that was a cherry pop? Oh fuck yeah. I’m close to giving you some cream to go on your cherry pie. Oh yeah. Fuck. Take it bitch. Feel my load fill you up. Faggot.

“That’s what you have to look forward to for the next few days. Oh man, fuck. I’m gonna lay here for a while. Watch your head, my cigar is only an inch or two from your cheek. I don’t want to brand you,… well at least not yet. Let go of the belt. Holy shit. You really did bite down hard. I can’t wait to give this back to him and tell him how the teethmarks came about.

“Oh yeah, he knows I’m gay. He doesn’t care. He’s totally straight, and I mean totally straight. Now just lay there; you ain’t going anywhere. But I want you to hear this. Yeah, I kept my sex life away from him until one day when he walked in on me fisting his math teacher, Mr. Gunter.

“Oh yeah, he goes to the same high school as you. He too is ready to graduate. You know him, oh yes you do. You’ve been texting him all year, ever since he transferred to your school. You were not very nice to him. In fact, you and a few of your friends beat him up. And what reason did you have for giving him a black eye?… Don’t remember? You called him a faggot. You told your friends that he hit on you in gym class. Talk about projecting.

“When he came home suspended for fighting and with a black eye, I wanted details. He gave me your name and showed me your pic in the yearbook. And wouldn’t you know, I recognized you from your attempted bookstore runs. A week later you start hanging around the diner. You couldn’t get into the bar area, but you sat every Friday afternoon in that same spot in my line of vision, pretending to read that book while groping yourself. So subtle.

“I had your background run by a this cop I regularly fuck. He told me a shitload about you. He’s the one that informed the bookstore across the street that you were underage. There’s a boy—a year older than you—that I fuck who is a Facebook friend of yours showed me your wall. I got to go through every word you wrote while he was giving me head. And unlike you, he knows how to deep throat. Again, having a big dick has its advantages.

“And about that time, you and my son were suspended, you posted a viral video of a bullied kid getting revenge on the bully by sleeping with the bully’s mom. And your comment was something like, ‘Best served cold.’

“Funny thing is, I’m out. While I don’t broadcast it in this tiny town, but I don’t hide it. My son and ex-wife know. The ranch I work at knows. Hell, the main reason how I got the job was that I fucked the owner and told him that I was looking for a job. The guys at the bar all know. So how were you going to humiliate my son? He probably would say, ‘He fucked you? You ain’t the first, you won’t be the last.’ or something like that.

“So, what’s happening next for you? Certainly not humiliating my son. No, for you, I have plans. I’m gonna fuck you again. I’ll leave you tied up. The motel is going to get full later on tonight, mostly truckers. I’ve let the motel owner and the guy that works the bookstore that you are here ready for all horny truckers.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to pass you over to this biker club one of my friends is a member of. He already set up something really nasty for you. The gang already knows what a piece of shit you are. They can’t wait to get their hands on you, and I can’t wait to hear all about it. By the end of the weekend, your cunt will be destroyed. I will give you two black eyes to make up for the one you gave my boy. Most likely your hair will be removed. You are going to be beaten. Hell, my cop buddy is a former boxer. He’s going to string you up and use you as a punching bag.

“And in the end,… I will decide if you keep your balls. Wow. That’s the first time you have flinched while lying under me. Aw, shut up. I work with livestock every day. I know how to castrate a bull. I haven’t decided about you. Just keep that in mind throughout the weekend. You complain or resist, your balls will be in jeopardy.

“You probably won’t see much of me. But I will you. I have it arranged to have it all filmed for me. I expect to see a cum hungry faggot whore knowing his place of being used by real men. Your balls will depend on it. For me, I’m going to be with my son doing dad things.

“And I don’t plan on letting him in to the fact that you are a faggot whore lookin to get raped seeing, he already knows. How do I know? I text him, while you were trying to give me head. I wrote, from your phone, ‘I have to get this off my chest. I am a faggot whore. I can’t live in the closet anymore. Please share this video.’

“Then I sent him your video. While you are going to be in a living hell for the next four days, you won’t be able to stop him or anyone from finding out. This is how I want it. As I said before, I am always in control of everything. Oh, and happy birthday.”

[sparrellow]

oops

Rin realised with absolute terror, that by some cursed oddity, the quite-revealing, most definitely embarrassing selfie she had just taken had been sent to Len.

rating: T genre: humour, romance pairing: rinlen words:  2,477

It was a balmy Tuesday afternoon, and Rin was bored, so she went window shopping.

Her favourite thing to do was try on cute outfits, take selfies in them, and then not buy anything at all. It wasn’t like she could afford to buy any of the things she tried, anyway—she was a broke university student, barely scraping by weekly on nutritious meals of cup ramen. 

This day, she felt particularly ambitious. A little sexy, even. So she went to her favourite lingerie store and tried on a bunch of cute, expensive underwear.

Alas, it did not go exactly as planned.

When she unlocked her phone to take a selfie, it did some weird glitch thing, but she simply shrugged it off and went to snap a photo of herself in the pastel, frilly, mermaid-themed underwear she’d picked out. Hmm. Cute. She clicked the confirm button, and went to take another picture, except— 

Except the screen didn’t return to the camera option.

Oh, no.

It didn’t.

It had, in fact, opened up her message with Len. Her uni friend. The cute guy from her Psychology class.

But that wasn’t it.

Because, Rin realised with absolute terror, that by some cursed oddity, the quite-revealing , most definitely embarrassing selfie she had just taken had been sent to him.

The final hit was the little: Read at 2:36 .

“Fuck!”

.

It was a balmy Tuesday afternoon, and Len was struggling to stay awake during his Introduction to Molecular Chemistry lecture. He kept nodding off every few minutes, the lecturer’s voice oddly soothing—both a blessing and a curse in his case.

But then his phone buzzed, and his eyes popped open to read the notification.

(1) Message from Rin Kagamine.

Huh. Wonder why Rin was texting him. They didn’t really talk much outside of their class together, but she was pretty cool. Pretty and cool, that was. He didn’t really think they were on that level for casual conversations yet, so perhaps it was uni-related, or something.

He reached over to unlock his phone to read the message. 

And promptly turned off his screen again.

What… what was that .

His eyes had almost fallen out of his sockets. Had he just seen correctly? Or was his mind playing tricks on him? He wasn’t even entirely sure.

Reluctantly, he opened the message back up.

And confirmed, it was, indeed, not a mistake of his eyes. 

She had, in fact, just sent him a picture of her in underwear. (Very nice underwear, might he add! But also, what the fuck was going on here .)

Before he could even form some degree of coherent message in response to the picture, Rin had begun spamming him in a flurry of panic.

FUCK

I’M SO SORRY

I

I’M SO FUCKING EMBARRASSED OH MY FUCKING GOD

FUCK!!!!

I SWEAR THIS WAS AN ACCIDENT I

I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED MY PHONE GLITCHED I’M SO SORRY LEN FUCK

He raised an eyebrow at the messages, amused. So it was… an accident? How does one send a sexy selfie as an accident? How does one’s phone glitch to the degree of accidentally sending someone a sexy selfie? Had she been meaning to send it to someone else?

There were so many questions. 

Well, the good thing was that Len was definitely awake now.

.

Rin was crouching on the floor of the dressing room, half-naked and freaking out because he still hadn’t replied. But he had read all the messages. Oh god. What happens if he, like, posted the picture to some Facebook group to shame her? What if he used it for blackmail?

Was Len that sort of person? Did he like blackmail?

But before she could jump to any more conclusions, he’d responded with:

Thanks. I needed something to make this lecture a little bit more bearable.

He was at school? Had he opened the message in front of everyone? Had everyone else seen her in the cute little frilly mermaid underwear with her unshaven legs and pot-belly from eating two servings of instant yakisoba for lunch????

Rin sunk further down onto the ground, clutching her head, texting back rapid-fire. 

I swear it was an accident I don’t know why it was sent to you I was literally just taking pics of myself and AHHHHH

Did she really just admit that she had been taking photos of herself, half-naked, in the dressing room of an expensive lingerie store?

Yes. Yes she did.

And Len had the audacity to send back a crying-laughing face.

Well idk if you wanted an opinion, but it looks cute. You should buy it.

Rin buried her face into her knees, utterly humiliated . This wasn’t what she was expecting her boring Tuesday afternoon to be like. Maybe she should’ve just stayed home and studied like a good student.

Well. It was too late to go back now.

I wish I could but it’s way out of my price range

Thanks, tho

She closed her phone and stood up, taking a breath to calm herself. At that moment, the dressing room assistant knocked on her door and asked, “Do you need any help?”

“I’m fine!” she croaked, scrambling to change into her next outfit. God forbid she let anyone else look at her body today.

.

Len couldn’t help but be a little disappointed at the fact that she’d stop replying after that last message.

Of course, it was normal , given that this was all apparently an accident , but he was hoping she’d send another picture or two.

You know.

That sounded dirty of him. But she was cute. And that first picture was—although very much a surprise—somewhat eye candy for him. Plus he was super bored. He still had another hour left of his lecture and his soul was slowly being leached from his body.

So, like the little disgusting man he was, he sent another message.

Is that all?

About a minute passed, before Rin responded with, What?

He internally winced. Was he really going to make himself sound like a major creep?

Yes. Yes he was.

(This was going to make his Psychology class super awkward and he knew it.)

You’re not trying any others on?

Rin’s reply came almost immediately after that. Of COURSE I’m trying others on

What, do you want more pictures of an underdeveloped adult woman with hairy legs and a bloated stomach in your phone?

Len snorted. The picture she’d sent was fine. It was a body. A very nice body he liked to look at.

So he said, I can give you a second opinion?

It was radio static silent from Rin. She’d read his message, but no answer. He waited about five minutes, before he put down his phone with a sigh and tried to tune into his class.

She’d probably blocked his number. With good reason.

God. How was he going to meet her eyes in Psychology class on Thursday?

Providing she didn’t like, sock him in the jaw for being a pervert.

But he couldn’t help it! He needed the thrill! The entertainment! Also the pictures of a cute girl in cute underwear on his phone!

Len was going to hell but he didn’t even care.

.

Rin had stared at her phone for an incredibly long time, not sure how to respond to her classmate.

Look, she got it. It was her fault for being a dumbass and not checking before taking the picture. She technically asked for this roundabout method of torture. 

And yet. He had the audacity to ask for more.

She didn’t know whether to be mad or impressed. Madpressed, maybe.

So she left it to stew on, finished taking selfies of all the cute underwear in her naked glory, and went home very pensive. She thought very hard about it all on the bus, and glared hard at his little, stupid face in his icon on the message app.

Len was a good-looking guy. And , from the few conversations they had in class, he had a good sense of humour. And judging by his messages, he was also a cheeky asshole.

But she could’ve done worse. A whole lot worse. She could’ve sent that picture to her grandfather, or better yet, one of her creepy great uncles. Perhaps it was a good thing she’d sent it to some random (hot) guy from university.

Yeah.

So Rin decided to send the rest of her photos to him, and die gracefully in a puddle of shame. 

He’d already seen one, so he might as well see them all.

.

Len almost tripped and fell flat on his face when Rin suddenly bulk-sent five more pictures of her in various, adorable lingerie.

He wasn’t even in his lecture anymore. He was walking home, feeling sorry for his little perverted self, and the fact that he accidentally slept through the remainder of his class. How on earth was he even going to pass that class.

The blood rushing to his head (and to the south pole), he managed to type out a response that read a lot more underwhelmingly compared to what was really going on in his mind.

Very nice.

Was it something a girl wanted to read after sending multiple pictures of herself in a vulnerable state? No, probably not. But his brain had turned to mush and was starting to seep out of his ears. 

Rin wasn’t impressed.

You could’ve at least said thank you

Len fumbled for his dorm key, hands sweaty. Look, he was inexperienced. No one had ever sent him sexy pictures—or the equivalent of them, at least, whatever these were. He didn’t know how to handle it! Besides, she wasn’t even, like, a girl he was dating. He couldn’t just go full-mcCreep and tell her that he had a boner.

Could he?

No. He couldn’t.

Thank you , he responded, upon letting himself into his dorm room. I like the lavender one btw. It goes well with your hair colour

Was that too… much? He didn’t know if what he was doing was right. What did she expect him to say? He had no idea what on earth this entire situation was meant to be.

Oh really? That was my favourite

Cost like half a kidney tho

Len sank down onto his bed, relieved at her response. Okay. Okay. He was doing better. But now … he had a very important question he wanted to ask.

What’s the name of the store?

.

Rin blinked at his message, wondering why he was asking.

But she decided it was better not to ask. Maybe he had a girlfriend, or something. (Which, if he did, she would be incredibly pissed, because wouldn’t this classify as cheating? If he did, she was going to make sure he couldn’t walk straight ever again.)

She sent him back the store name. And left it there.

Thanks!

I’ll see you on Thursday ;)

Rin stared at his messages. Why did he send that winky face. What did it mean. What did it mean.

She didn’t respond, just tossed her phone aside and flopped back against her couch. She’d find out soon enough if she’d regret her actions.

.

Come Thursday, Rin had all but mentally prepared for her encounter with Len.

He pulled out the chair beside her in their lecture hall, and she stiffened, reluctantly dragging her eyes up to meet his gaze.

“Morning,” he said, acting way too casual given the circumstances. He plopped a familiar bag down on the desk in front of her and winked. Winked.

She felt her breakfast come up a little as it dawned on her, with absolute horror, that the bag donned the logo of the exact same store she’d been trying on underwear in the other day.

“What… is this,” she asked, gesturing at the bag like it was a severed toe.

Len looked smug, resting his chin on his hand. “I don’t know. Take a peek.”

“You don’t know,” Rin muttered to herself, unconvinced. She leaned forward, peering into the bag, catching a glimpse of something the shade of lavender. Uhhhh. She’d seen that shade of lavender somewhere. On her body. In the dressing room.

Hm.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Len said, shifting his gaze away so that he was facing forward. “No, I don’t know your size. I guessed.”

She wanted to send her face forward into the surface of the desk. 

“But if it doesn’t fit,” he added, lips turning up into a smirk, “you can always take it in to swap it for your size. The receipt is in the bag.”

God. What on earth. What the even. What?

“Is this… are you going to like… blackmail me or something, or,” Rin spluttered, eyeing him with suspicion. “What are you going to have me do in return for… this? This brand isn’t… cheap.”

Len glanced back at her, shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you technically don’t have to do anything , but…” He licked his lips. What the fuck? Ew. Gross. “I wouldn’t mind some more pictures.”

She gawked at him, heat rushing to her cheeks. “ Re ally?” She didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust this pretty-faced man-boy at all. “So, you want to be my sugar daddy?”

He choked. After recovering from his coughing fit, he sat up straight, made direct eye-contact and said smoothly, “Yeah, if that’s how you want to see it.”

So, he gave her expensive lingerie. In exchange for. Pictures of her. In said lingerie.

Wow.

Rin wasn’t sure whether she was awake anymore, or just dreaming. Maybe she had passed out or something, and was having a fever dream. This was just too weird to even be real. She pinched her thigh under the desk, but nothing happened (alas).

“I mean, you could just go on a date with me instead, and maybe you’ll get to see the real thing,” her mouth said, without any mental input. It just came out. 

It was real clown hours in this Psychology lecture, huh.

Len’s mouth popped open. Then closed. Then opened again. “That could work, too.”

It was silent. No one knew how to handle this situation, apparently. They were both staring awkwardly at the bag of lingerie on the desk between them, like it might eat them at any moment.

Eventually, Rin’s hand reached out and snatched it off the desk, stuffing it down into her shoulder bag on the ground. She cleared her throat, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, I’ll try it on tonight and see how it fits.”

Len tried not to look too pleased. And failed. “Cool.” He hesitated, side-glancing her. “If it does… ”

“I’ll meet you at Crypton's at seven.”

He blinked, surprised, before leaning back in his seat and grinning with satisfaction. “Sounds good.”

(Spoiler alert: Rin’s underwear didn’t fit, but they still went on the date anyway.)

[ladywinchester1967]

A Rare Occurrence

Type: One Shot

Pairing: Dean x Female

Characters: Dean Winchester, Female Character, Sam Winchester (mentioned).

Warnings: PWP. SMUT ahead; spanking (for a second), oral (female receiving), slight praise kink, little bit of angst, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your Willy), biting, mentions of drunken behavior. I think that’s it. **pics not mine**

A/N: I blame @waywardnerd67 and @kittenofdoomage for this one. First the porn war and it was Sinful Sunday. I’m not even sorry.

A/N 2: I’m having to re-post this because it was flagged by tumblr and had literally been sitting in content appeal for (I swear to Lucille) six months. So, let’s try this again shall we?

Her eyes fluttered open; the hazy morning light coming through the thin curtains of her bedroom. Blinking a few times to rid her eyes of sleep, she slowly got up out of bed and went to use the restroom. When she had finished her business, washed her hands and brushed her teeth; she walked out of the bathroom, fully expecting him to be awake. He was usually jostled out of a deep sleep by the loss of her presence in their shared bed.

But no, not this time. Dean Winchester was still out like a light. She stood at the foot of the bed, admiring his sleeping form, a smile playing over her lips. He was laying on his stomach, his broad back and shoulders bared to her by his lack of shirt and the fact that the blankets were laying around his waist. He always complained that he got hot because she kept too many blankets on the bed; spoken like the walking, talking, human heater that he was. His long arms were tucked under the pillow, his back rising and falling with each easy breath that he took. She couldn’t help but let the smile on her lips grow; he was big, handsome, gentle and all hers. She climbed back into bed, moving as stealthily as possible. Being married to a hunter had its advantages; being able to sneak up on him was not one of them. She positioned her body so that she was laying halfway across his back. Her left hand gently landed on his bicep as he twitched in his sleep. She peppered kisses across his shoulder blades and upper back, relishing in the feeling and taste of his skin. She heard him groan as she kissed her way up to his neck, letting her right hand sink through his thick, brownish blonde locks.

“Dean,” she said quietly in his ear as she planted kisses on the cartilage of his ear “Deeeean.”

He grunted, just waking up as she let her left hand drift down his left arm, her hand eventually resting over the back of his hand. Her fingertips found the ring around his fourth finger and she smiled.

“All mine.” She repeated in her mind. She squeezed the back of his hand and called his name again in a sweet tone.

“Mh?” He asked sleepily, more awake now.

“Wake up babe.” She told him

“Nuh-uh.” He grunted back.

She kissed down the side of his neck and on to his shoulders and he inhaled sharply.

“C’mon hon.” she coaxed, kissing his shoulder blades again as he wriggled under her. He could feel her breasts against his back through the thin tank top she wore to bed. She squeezed his hand in hers again. He rolled on to his back and she positioned herself over him, straddling his hips, his hardness evident below her.

“Good morning.” She said sweetly as she bent over him and kissed him.

“Hold that thought,” he said sleepily “I know my breath stinks.”

“Fair enough.” She said with a grin. He threaded his fingers through hers, the diamonds on her engagement and wedding bands sparkling in the grey morning light. He grinned and she rolled off of him. He quickly brushed his teeth and came back to bed with a yawn, his boxer briefs hanging just low enough to show off the V cut in his hips. He climbed back in bed and got on top of her, lacing his fingers through hers once again and pinning them by her head. He kissed her deeply and passionately, he tasted like minty toothpaste, his full and slightly chapped lips closing over hers. When the kiss ended, he pulled back and asked

“Worth the wait?” His green eyes sparkling like the purest emeralds.

“Of course,” She told him “you always make my waits worth it.”

“In that case,” he said and kissed her fully again, he let go of one of her hands, using his now freed hand to comb through her long hair “let me make last night up to you.”

“You already did.” she told him.

He’d missed their dinner date by four and a half hours, hunting down the coven of witches had taken longer than he or Sam had anticipated and she ended up going to bed alone and crying herself to sleep. When he finally did show his face; the remorse was evident in his expression. He’s brought home her favorite ice cream, chocolate chip cookie dough, as an apology and had taken his time drawing as many orgasms as possible out of her.

“I still feel bad,” he told her, his eyes still showing hurt “I know you went through a lot of trouble to make a special dinner for us and I blew it by being late.”

“Dean, I’m over it.” She told him, her hand covering his “You’re beyond forgiven.”

“I made you cry,” he said “and I disappointed you. The two things I hate most in the world.”

“I thought disco was the thing you hated most in the world.” She teased him.

In spite of his low feelings, he laughed. She always had the ability to cheer him up, even when he didn’t want to be. A grin spread across his face and he kissed he again.

“Let me make it up to you baby,” he said through their kiss “let me show you how sorry I am.”

Who could pass that up?

He pulled back as she nodded, biting her lip and letting her hand comb through his hair again.

“Say it baby,” he told her as he kissed her again “talk to me.”

“Yes,” She said breathlessly “show me how sorry you are.”

“Good girl.” He praised her.

He used his size advantage to pin her against the pillows, snaking his body between her legs. She slid her hand down the back of his head and to his shoulder, letting her nails scrape over his skin, an audible growl coming from him. He snapped his covered erection into her underwear covered heat, making her moan.

“Let me concentrate on you.” He told her, breaking their kiss.

She knew how he was when he was lost in his feelings. The guilt and self loathing seemed to permeate from him; she remembered a night at the beginning of their relationship when he’d missed her birthday party because of a hunt. He’d gotten horrifically drunk and she found him practically passed out at a bar.

“Why me?!” He demanded to know once she’d gotten him outside and into the hot, July night. “Why the fuck would you want to be with someone like me?!” He roared at her.

“Dean. STOP.” She yelled back at him “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I am!” He insisted, his drunken words slurring together “You fucking deserve more than what the fuck I can give you! Just tell me to fuck off and leave!”

“I’m not gonna do that.” she told him as she helped him into her car and drove him back to her house. He’d spent the night in the bathroom, alternating between puking his guts up and sleeping. She’d stayed by his side, making sure he didn’t choke to death on his own vomit and nursing him back to health the next day.

He’d apologized profusely for ruining her birthday when he’d finally regained his strength.

“Dean,” she told him, wrapping her arms around his neck “I chose you, I love you for exactly who you are. Scars, flaws, good habits, bad habits; all of it makes you who you are. And I love you. ALL of you.”

Where he wasn’t good with words, he more than made up for in actions. They’d christened nearly every surface in her house that day.

Happy birthday indeed.

Four years later, she found herself in nearly the same position as she surrendered control over to him. He nipped her earlobe, squeezing her hand tightly and making her gasp.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he promised, his breath sending little puffs of air on to her skin “Mrs. Winchester.”

A giggle escaped her mouth

“You don’t get tired of that, do you?” She asked him and he pulled back, shaking his head.

“No, I don’t.” He said and started kissing down her neck, sucking on her skin and leaving marks in his wake, his tongue running over the marks as she moaned. “Mine,” he murmured quietly against her flesh “all mine.”

He let go of her hand and pushed the hem of her tank top up and yanked it off of her. She was left in a pair of barely there pink panties, he grinned and bit his lower lip, admiring her.

He sat up, his fingertips sliding down her sides and over her hips, tracing the waistband of her panties as she trembled under his touch. No man before him had worshiped her body the way he did, even now it still took her breath away. His fingers ghosted over the tops of her thighs and down to her inner knees, he ran his fingers back up and then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down. She lifted her hips to assist him and he pulled them off of her. Now naked, she ached for his touch.

“Dean,” she breathed “please.”

He let a moan escape him mouth as he picked one of her legs up, throwing it over his shoulder. He kissed from the inside of her knee, up her inner thigh. He intentionally skipped where she wanted him most; however intoxicating her scent was, and kissed down her opposite inner thigh to that inner knee.

She squirmed as he threw her other leg over his shoulder.

“Deeeeean!” She begged and he chuckled against her skin.

“Be patient,” he commanded “good things come to those who wait.”

She frowned but didn’t protest as he worked his mouth up to the apex of her thighs. His hands slid over the tops of her thighs and up her hips, holding her firmly in place. He flattened his tongue and licked a thick stripe from her hole to her clit, making her moan loudly.

“That’s it,” his voice ladened with desire “let me hear you sweet girl.”

He sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue mercilessly lapping over it, her back arching. She wanted desperately to move her hips, but he held her down. He was in the driver’s seat and she’d have to take what he gave her. He slowly and deliberately licked and sucked through her folds, drawing pornographic moans and curses from her. He swirled his tongue inside of her, making her eyes pop open.

“Oh god, DEAN!” She cried out, feeling like fire and ice were coursing through her body at the same time. He glanced up, seeing her head thrown back as she cried out, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clutching the pillow under her head. He drifted his hand down to her clit, the pads of his fingers pushing into her and rolling it in slow circles as his tongue flicked in and out of her. Her cries grew louder as he kept up his pace. She couldn’t warn him that she was coming, a solid chill running up her spine.

“Come on baby,” he encouraged her “I can feel you. Let go.”

She let out a loud moan as the orgasm rocked through her, her back arching to the point of painful, but she didn’t care. He worked her through her orgasm, drawing it out for longer than should be allowed by law. She panted, her legs falling open as he sat up on his knees, grinning like the cat that got the canary.

“Mh,” he said as he looked down at her and licked his lips, she was blissed out and breathing hard. Her skin had a pink tinge to it and her pupils were so dilated, he could barely see her eyes color “as much as I love seeing you like this,” he pulled off his underwear and lined up his hardened cock with her soaked hole “I wanna be in you more.”

“Please.” was all she could get out before he sank into her, filling her up as he growled. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he scooped her up so that she was in his lap, grinding down on him. He gripped the hair on the back of her head with one hand and wrapped his free arm around her waist.

Her hands threading together on the back of his head as he pulled her into a hard, brusing kiss. The taste of her juices were still lingering on his mouth, mixing with his taste made for an insanely addictive combination.

“Oh fuck, baby.” He groaned against her mouth as she rode him. She picked up the pace, chasing her release again, her tongue sliding into his mouth and massaging over his. He pulled back and tugged on her hair, forcing her to look at him.

“Slower.” He commanded and she nodded, slowing the pace of her hips. “That’s it,” he murmured, his lips against her neck “that’s my good girl.”

She whimpered as he bit down on her neck and sucked on her skin. She dragged her nails down his back, sure to leave red marks in their wake, an explicit moan escaping his mouth.

“Oh god, Dean!” She cried out, resisting the urge to slam him down into the mattress and fuck him senseless. As if he could read her mind, he gripped her tightly and thrust his hips up to meet hers; the sound of skin hitting skin reverberated through the room as a mix of moans and sighs came from both of them.

“Turn over,” He told her “on your hands and knees.”

At his words, her knees nearly gave way as she crawled off of him and did as he’d asked. She slightly shivered with anticipation as she popped her butt into the air and he gave it a firm smack with his hand, making her cry out and he chuckled.

“Look at you, showing off for me.” He said and he teased her entrance with the head of his cock. His thrusts were shallow as he gripped her hips and she whined.

“Dean, please!” She cried out

“Tell me baby.” He commanded

“Please,” she begged “god, please fuck me!”

He thrust deep into her and bit the outer shell of her ear as he did, making a scream rip through her throat.

“So fucking hot when you beg for me.” He whispered in her ear as she whimpered.

“Fuck!” She cried as he began to move, his hips snapping into her, making the flesh on her behind ripple as he did this. He tightened his grip on her hips as she alternated between moaning and screaming. He slid his hands up her body and pulled her back flush against his chest. He wrapped one arm around her, holding her in place, his free hand tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

“Keep screaming like that and I won’t last.” He told her as he kissed her. She moaned against his mouth, their tongues doing battle for dominance. When they parted, she sighed as he picked up the pace with his hips.

“Dean, Dean,” she breathed over and over, like a prayer “god you feel so good!”

“That’s it sweetheart,” he responded, tightening his grip on her “you feel so fucking good.” The chord in his lower belly was almost too taught to keep holding any longer. “I’m gonna come baby, you wanna come with me? Huh?”

She took one of his hands and guided his fingers to her clit. He made harsh circles with his fingers.

“Oh fuck, fuck!” She cried out, the intense sensations washing over her “GOD DEAN!”

Her walls clamped down on him, another moan escaping his mouth.

“So tight,” he breathed in her ear “so fucking tight, all for me.”

“Oh FUCK!” She cried out, the knot in her stomach gave way as the chord in Dean’s belly snapped and she let out a scream that would make a porn star blush as he finished inside of her, his hot seed filling her up. She nearly collapsed in his arms; her legs feeling like jelly as he eased her on to the bed and pulled out of her. She laid on her stomach as he lay beside her, both of them breathing hard. They caught their breath in silence for a few moments and when she finally looked at him, he had a sweet smile playing on his lips, his fingertips brushing her back.

“What?” She asked

He brushed her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as he kissed her forehead.

“I love you.” He told her

“I love you too.” She answered and kissed him. While their lives may not be perfect; in that moment, everything was just that. Total and complete perfection.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

​The Squad:

@waywardbaby​​​​​​​ @waywardnerd67​​​​​​​ @familybusinesswritingbro​​​​​​​ @ain-t-bovvered​​​​​​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​​​​​​ @unholyqu33n​​​​​​​ @dacleverfox​​​​​​​ @emoryhemsworth​​​​​​​ @bobasheebaby​​​​​​ @myinconnelly1​​​​​​​ @mogaruke​​​​​​​ @imma-winchester-addict​​​​​​​​ @purpleskiesandcherrypies​​​​​​​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​​​​​​​ @animerose96​​​​​​​​  @roonyxx​​​​​​​​ @snffbeebee​​​​​​​​ @ezilyamuzed​​​​​​​​ @srsllydunnodoncare​​​​​​​​ @latetothewinchesterparty​​​​​​​​ @emilyshurley​​​​​​​​ @atc74​​​​​​​​ @midnightsilverafterdark​​​​​​​​ @adoptdontshoppets​​​​​​​​ @biawol​​​​​​​​  @spaceystacey123​​​​​​​​ @bella-ca​​​​​​​​ @clo-heda​​​​​​​​ @closetspngirl​​​​​​​​ @thekatherinewinchester​​​​​​​​ @maddiepants​​​​​​​​ @idreamofplaid​​​​​​​ @love-those-boys-in-flannel​​​​​​ @flamencodiva​​​​​​ @blueberrykushlovexoxo-blog​​​​ @sandlee44​​​​ @tumbler-tidbits​​ @rainbowsinthestorm @deans-baby-momma​ @algud

Dean/ Jensen:

@spnbaby-67​​ @akshi8278​​ @deanscarlett​​​​​ 

[marriedandamess-blog]

The damage the modern world of technology and the trap that is tinder on my marriage

Let's be real no one's ever going to read this, or no one that matters at least, unless in a moment of madness I decide to share it. But it's 11pm on a sunday night and I'm laying here wide awake with a head far to full of thoughts that just won't stop. So lets get them all out.

Lets rewind to this time last year. I was young, had my whole life ahead of me, dream career, pretty great home life with my then fiance. I mean as great as can be, we had our moments but we were "perfectly imperfect" for each other. With the intention of a long engagement the idea of a wedding was such a distant thought, then one day someone near and dear offered us a free wedding venue, and who could say no to that?! Especially when the place already had so much meaning to us both. So on with the wedding planning we went. Me and my silly obsession with even numbers and sentimental dates had us planning a wedding in a mere 6 months. Everyone though we were crazy and in all honesty we were. As it came to dress shopping with my sister quite far from home I started to realise quite what I was doing... I was 21 and I was about to sign myself up for a life sentence. In that moment I felt a sense of being trapped or suffocated and found myself suddenly doubting what I was about to do. But with plans well under way and 5 months til the big day I couldn't really bail now.

I opened up to my fiance about not being able to commit to one dick for the rest of my life. I was fully serious, I panicked that I hadn't yet explored enough sexual, not necessarily just things but people in general, I wasn't ready to stop at number 11, despite doing just that for the past 2 1/2yrs. Thus began the messed up journey of trying to and utterly fail at having an openish relationship. Going back to a past fuck buddy ended in a mess. To this day we no longer talk and that is a regret I have to live with as pre dragging them into the situation we still talked often.

So then came tinder. With some boundaries in place I set off on my mission to find me a regular side fuck. From memory they were going to be my "mister" (cause what else do you call a male mistress?). I enjoyed tinder a bit too much. The sense of validation I felt on there was a little tragic looking back. But after being the "ugly" unwanted girl a lot of my life I suddenly had an awfully large number (we're talking thousands) of guys of all ages all over the country wanting me. Or a certain piece of me at least. Realising I could have anyone I wanted really got me rethinking my life choices. But despite that and despite talking to some of the guys on tinder I still managed to work, study, be a domestic goddess and plan a wedding!

But during the lead up to the wedding I met someone on there that I could have never imagined would become such a huge part of my life. Matching with L had to be the biggest blessing and curse in my life all in one. We instantly started talking every single day on snapchat, sending pics and just using the chat feature. We just clicked. The first time we hung out I remember like it was yesterday. I absolutely hate the word "affair" but that's what it became. I had an affair with a poor unsuspecting human that never deserved to get caught up in the mess of my life. He just treated me like I had never been treated before. The phsyical attraction was ridiculous, and I suppose there was a sense of thrill to it to. It all started me trying to show him around my home town as he wasn't from here. Then lead to having sex with him all behind my fiance back. I know I'm a horrible person to be admitting this but I can't keep the truth to myself forever. All I looked forward to each day was talking to L and thinking about the next time we'd see each other and what we'd get up to.

Then came the wedding day. I married someone that I loved and it was the most beautiful ceremony with some unwanted rain, but our vows were heartfelt and there was so much love there that day. But as the day went on I just missed L and wanted to talk to him. I left my reception and all the guests to run off and talk to him. It crushed me days later when I found out that was the hardest day for him.

So now I was married to a man I'd been with for 3 years, but in love with someone hubby thought was just a friend.

I'm pretty adventurous sexually, to a point I guess, definitely not vanilla and the topic of threesomes and sharing had been brought up a bit. Knowing how much I secretly loved sex with L I convinced him and hubby on a threesome. When it actually came down to it it was a spontaneous last minute addition to a night away house sitting. Poor L was far to drunk to fully comprehend the mess he was getting himself into, but he loved sex with me too much to turn it down. It was his first time meeting J so we started with a spa and more drinks, I was in a bikini and sat closest to L. As nothing happened and a drink top up was required, I went with hubby and got told to start stripping off and be a bit more forward. I ended up completely naked and on L. Spa over we head inside where hubby sends me and L into the bedroom to make a start. Little did we know hubby watched the whole time and was getting himself off just on the other side of the door. He then comes in and takes over. Finishes and sends a very drunk and confused L out to the couch. In the morning I was told I was allowed to fuck L alone while Jo was gone before I dropped him home. Which ofcourse I did. And that's a brief run down of my first threesome, the time my side fuck/love met my hubby, and the moment all my lifes messes intertwined.

Ofcourse the affair continued with J completely oblivious. He'd get suspicious occasionally but I always managed to stop it. 5 months into this all now and Ls time here in town came to an end. I was head over heels for him and my heart broke as I had to say goodbye to him and the amazing 5 months we had had. He'd only been gone 2 days and I found myself in my numb broken hearted state booking flights to see him. So the countdown began and the explaining to hubby why I was heading to the other end of another island alone for a weekend when he knew L had just moved there.

Then came the 2 month wait til my trip. It's all I was looking forward to. L and I still talked a lot although life sometimes got in the way. And even facetimed for 2 hours one night a few weeks before I went to see him.

The day before I left for my long awaited adventure I had a mental breakdown. After being mistreated in my workplace for some time things came to a head and the day I left on my adventure I resigned from the job and career I'd been in for 3 years. My dream career. I lost a huge part of me that day. I went to his town, and had the most incredible time with him. Luxury hotel, buffet breakfasts, small town girl in the big city. He showed me around and taught me so much about the city and his life. I got to be as affectionate as I wanted to be even in public. I loved every minute of that fact. Showing him and my love for him off to the world. It was like a dream come true.

Then I came home... back to reality and my life futher crumbled. I didn't want to be around my husband and I couldn't handle much if any phsyical touching let alone sex. All I could think about was my time with L and how the life I'd craved was right there for such a brief moment and then reality took it away again.

One week after my trip, my husband and I had a fight. He got phsyical with me and then was so angry he punched himself in the face 5 times and then stumbled to a door way and proceed to smash his head on it 3 times with all his force until he passed out. That is a day I want to forget.

L was in town that whole week too which didn't help, knowing he was right there. So close but yet so far. Week two post trip and we spent the whole week in seperate rooms. I saw L twice. The first time we had some amazing anal sex in the back seat of my car down the river. And the second we had some mindblowing sex on my couch followed by arguing, a lot of emotions and a bit if a heart to heart.

And in that moment of opening up I broke my own heart as I realised things would never be the same between us again. That night my thoughts and emotions with all things L consumed me. I wanted more then anything to see him the next day, knowing it was his last day in town and not knowing when I'd see him again. I didn't want the last time we see eachother to be tears and anger. But he didn't get to see me. I couldn't bring myself to ask him if it was because of work or because I was the last person he wanted to see. Instead i tried to ignore him as I was so hurt. I lasted 4 hours. Which is honestly probably a record when it comes to ignoring him.

It's after midnight now, he leaves today, and that makes me feel so numb inside. My heart just wants to be loved by him. But I know I will never have that chance, so instead I broken heartedly hope he finds someone he loves as much as I love him. And that he finds the happiness he so deserves. The happiness he once gave me. But it hurts so much that that can't be me.

This is such a messy recap that is missing so much detail. Maybe my next posts will focus on one part at a time and explain in more detail the bits I've missed.

It's the morning now, I have an interview in half an hour (cause I left my job remember) yet I'm in bed adding to this. I just don't learn, after all this I'm talking to someone I met on tinder on Wednesday. I'm already getting attached. But part of me wants them to see this simply so they know what they're getting themself into. So they don't let me have one sided feelings. So they realise the mess that is me. So they leave and destroy me now while I'm already destroyed, not when I'm so deep in.

[lalainajanes]

klaroliiinnnee + i kissed you goodbye by accident - old habits die hard okay?!?!

@goldcaught sent me this one too! Great minds, lol.

Keep It Around

Caroline’sgot her fists clenched around the steering wheel, tense and worried, becausetraffic has chosen to totally work against her. Not by being an impossiblegridlock, however. No, the drive from her apartment to Klaus’ house (formerly their house) has been a freaking dream.She doesn’t think she’d hit even a single red light.

She barelyhears Mojo Jojo and Professor Utonium yowling from their travel kennels, tunesout the sound of their little claws trying to rip through the plastic mesh.When she’s not staring at the road she’s glaring at the clock on the dash,willing it to jump forward twenty minutes.

She’searly, something that would usually be a point of pride. In this case? Early isbad. Early means spending more time with Klaus than she’s prepared to, fillingminutes with more than rehearsed instructions and plans. This is the fifth timeshe’s had to go out of town for work since they’d broken up and Caroline hadtimed each previous drop off to perfection. The last four times she’d allottedherself less than fifteen minutes between the time she’d arrive at Klaus’ andthe time the cab she’d ordered would pick her up. Just enough time to park inKlaus’ garage, wrestle the cats into the collars that would allow them throughthe pet door and into the backyard, and spend a few minutes giving Mars a bellyrub.

They’dworked out a decent joint pet custody agreement but the twice weekly runs whereshe gets to hang out with Mars were far too short. She misses the dog, a huskymutt who’s never quite accepted the fact that he’s too big for her lap. Hemight have been Klaus’ but he’d been barely out of puppyhood when she’d movedin, had spent more of his life with her in the house than without. He’d beenthe one to suggest she leave the cats, a pair of tuxedos she’d adopted yearsbefore she’d met Klaus, with him when she had to travel for work so Carolineassumes he’s in the same boat.

When sherolls into Klaus’ driveway she sees Mars in the window, perched on the back ofthe couch, his tail wagging furiously. She can’t help but smile, heranxiousness easing a little. Maybe, if she focused on the dog, not on the dog’s owner, she’d be fine.

Optimism istotally Caroline’s thing and she tells herself she can do this. Klaus had beenher roomie and friend long before he’d been her boyfriend. They’d had abajillion conversations before she’d realized she was in love with him. What’sone more now? She’s pretty sure she’s stillin love with him but she’s working on it. It’ll fade.

Eventually.

She thinks.

The cats,probably sensing their location, have gotten more restless, their cries growingin pitch and frequency. Mojo is smaller than his brother, is turning circlesand bumps his head against the kennel’s side when Caroline reaches for him.She’d bought them after the first time she’d had to transport the cats toKlaus’ had learned that juggling two hard kennels full of wriggling cats was adisaster. Professor Utonium had managed to spring himself, busting through themetal door, and streaking up a tree.

She’d hadto leave, had fretted her whole flight, until she’d landed and a text fromKlaus had come through saying he’d got the cat down and that Prof was safe andsound and gorging himself on dinner. He’d even sent pictures to prove it, ashot of his dog and her cats curled up on the living room rug.

Caroline’sgot dozens of similar pics stored in her phone. When she’d first moved in withKlaus her cats hadn’t been too sure what to make of the bouncy ball of fluffthat was forever pouncing on their tails. Within a month they’d all been fastfriends, their occasional scraps quickly forgotten whenever there was a sunnyspot open and a group nap beckoned.

The newcarrying cases resemble sports bags and she loops one over each shoulder,swaying for a moment until the cats settle down and she can find her balance,before pulling up the handle of her suitcase to roll it behind her. She’s notthe least bit surprised to find Klaus slipping out of the house when she looksup, or hear him ordering Mars to stay. The dog whines but obeys and Carolinepresses her lips together to fight a smile. Mars had been a puppy schoolsuperstar and she can’t help but be proud.

She leavesher suitcase at the base of the steps, hands over her keys so he can move hercar if he needs to. She hadn’t seen his on the street, assumes it’s parked inthe garage. For all she knows he’s got a hot date tonight and she’s blockinghim in. She might have wanted labelsbut plenty of women didn’t. “Thanks again for taking them this weekend,” shesays, letting him take Professor Utonium’s kennel from her. “And I’m reallysorry it’s so last minute this time. I hope it won’t happen again but I’m stillfeeling out my new boss. It’s possible he’s evil but I’m hoping he’s justdisorganized. That I can work with.”

Klaus laughssoftly though the look he shoots her is speculative. Likely because Caroline’sbeen careful not to let their conversations stray into personal topics. She’dthought it best to keep things between them surface level but, considering howmuch time she has to fill before her cab arrives, it would be pretty awkward ifshe didn’t at least start a conversation.

“Yes, I’msure you could whip him into shape in no time and he wouldn’t even notice.”

“Damnright,” Caroline chirps.

“Congratulationson your promotion,” Klaus says. “You’ll be brilliant.”

She pauses,turning to look at him. “How did you…”

He turnshis attention to mounting the steps, very carefully not looking at her.“Instagram.”

Huh. Klausbarely uses Instagram, hadn’t posted anything in at least a month (yes, she checks and she’s not proud of it) andher promotion is barely two weeks old. Maybe she’s not the only one who’s gotsome feelings lingering.

Carolineknows she shouldn’t be happy about that realization but hey, the heart wantswhat it wants. It’s nice to know hers isn’t alone in its stubbornness.

He pushesthe door open, “Sit,” he says firmly, and she can hear Mars’ nails scrabblingon the tiles, glances up to see him quivering with excitement, mouth open andtongue lolling.

Carolinehurries into the house, bending to rub his ears, “Who’s a good boy?” she coos.“And so handsome.”

“He toredown the drapes the day before yesterday,” Klaus says dryly. “So definitely nota good boy.”

She doesn’tlet up, stands so she can run her hands over his fur. His tail is a blur,swishing rapidly back and forth. “Aw, I’m sure it was an accident. Mars-y, didyour little squirrel friends come back? They shouldn’t taunt you.”

Klaus sighsand she knows he’s holding in a comment about how she babies the dog – somethingthey’d bickered over often. Mars is an excellent guard dog, very intimidatingwhen he needs to be. So what if he’s privately a big ol’ cuddly softy?

They saiddogs resembled their owners, didn’t they? Klaus is definitely in the pricklyouter shell with hidden inner depths club.

Carolinerises, setting her kennel on the hall table. Klaus has left the cat collarsthere and she picks one up. She fiddles with it for a moment, loosening it.Apartment living has caused Mojo to gain a little weight (he’ll hog the food ifshe lets him) and she’s started him on a laser pointer regimen but hasn’t seenmuch of a difference. She hands the carrier off to Klaus, “I’ll hold, youcollar?”

He agreeswith a soft hum and Caroline unzips the flap, shooting her hand in before Mojocan poke his head out. She scoops him out, safely immobilized under her arm,and Klaus neatly clicks the collar shut around his neck.

Caroline’scareful to ignore how close he is, keeps her gaze focused on the cat. She setshim down and he immediately throws his body against Klaus’ legs, rubbingaffectionately. Caroline feels a small pang of guilt but shakes it off and Mojois quickly distracted by the Mars, who greets Mo with a very inappropriatelyplaced sniff.

“Hey,rude,” Caroline chides, nudging the dog when she bends to grab the otherkennel. He thinks it’s a game, crouching down into pounce position and yipping.Caroline just can’t say no to that face, reaches out to pat his headaffectionately. “No one likes a butt sniffer, Mars.”

Klaus openshis mouth but Caroline points at him warningly, “Do not even thing about channeling Kol right now.” His lips presstogether and a bright light of amusement remains and it’s so easy to smileback. “I’m sure we could google and find out I’m wrong but do we really want to?”

“Likelynot.”

“I love itwhen you agree with me,” Caroline jokes.

“You likeit more when I don’t,” Klaus shoots back.

She thinksabout arguing, decides it’s too dangerous. Today’s the most comfortable she’sfelt in Klaus’ presence since before things had gotten bad between them. Shefinds she doesn’t want to put the wall back up between them. If Klaus were toreference any of the many (many)times one of their arguments had ended up with the two of them naked or nearlyso against the most convenient flat-ish surface she’d have to.

No way canshe endure the next twenty to thirty minutes of his company if she’s thinkingabout how she can still only seem tocome if she thinks about him.

She liftsthe other kennel and they repeat the process and get Professor Utonium’s collarsituated. When he’s on the floor the animals are quick to pelt out of thehallway. Caroline holds her breath, half expecting a crash, but soon she hearsMars barking and she knows they’ve made their way outside. “It’s supposed to besunny this weekend. The boys will probably spend most of it rolling around onthe grass and out of your hair.”

Klausdoesn’t seem particularly concerned. “They’re no bother, love.”

Carolineknows he genuinely means it. She’d met Klaus while looking for a place to rent,had been having trouble finding something pet friendly that was availableimmediately. When she’d met her friend Enzo’s new boyfriend Kol he’d been quickto offer up a solution in the form of his brother (‘kind of a wanker but a softtouch for any fluffy beast who crosses his path’) who’d been between housematesat the time.

Carolinehad met Klaus the next day, had quickly fallen in love with the house and Marseven as she’d sternly told herself that she would not, under any circumstances,consider sleeping with Klaus even if he happened to be distractingly hot.

Her vow hadlasted almost seven months and, if she were being honest, Caroline’s superimpressed with her will power that she’d held out that long. Klaus hadn’t beenshy about expressing his interest and had quickly developed some kind ofallergy to shirts.

They’dfallen into a kind of roommates with benefits situation. They’d worked well asroommates and the benefits had been goodand a year passed before Caroline even realized it. She’d been out withfriends, a long overdue girl’s night, and some creep had gotten belligerentwhen she’d turned down his offer to buy her a drink.

He’dinsisted she tell him if she had a boyfriend and, while she’d had no problemleaving him in her dust, his words had lingered as she’d made her way back toher friends.

Because, asfar as Caroline had known she didn’thave a boyfriend. She hadn’t been seeing anyone else and she’d known Klaushadn’t been either. Still, they’d never discussed commitment, hadn’t reallymade big future plans beyond the everyday ‘Mars needs shot in a month, the yardwill need to be graded in the spring’ type that came with living in the samehouse. They’d fallen into such an easy thing that the big discussions –marriage, kids, joint bank accounts – hadn’t come up.

Carolinehad figured that was a sign that Klaus wasn’t interested in any of thosethings. And it sucked realizing that shewanted them more than anything.

She’d drunkway too much vodka. Had started looking a new apartment the next day.

“When does your cab get here?” Klaus asks.

She fishesher phone out of her jacket, fights to keep from visibly cringing. “Uh, liketwenty minutes? Sorry, my timing is off today. I can wait outside it you want…”she rocks back a step, fully prepared to wait out on the porch with hersuitcase.

Annoyanceflashes across Klaus’ face, “So eager to leave my company?”

“You’re theone who asked me when I was leaving.”

His jawclenches, his eyes fluttering shut briefly and he’s back to casual pleasantnessin an instant. “Just making conversation. Why don’t you come in to the kitchen?I made coffee not too long ago.”

“Sure.” Sheslips off her flats – Klaus is weird about shoes in the house – and follows himthrough the house. There’s a wall of windows that face the backyard and she cansee Mars chasing one of the cats though they’re moving too quickly for her tonote which one.

“Just likeold times,” she says, then immediately wishes she hadn’t. Klaus’ back is toher, and he tenses as he reaches into the cupboard where he’s always kept themugs. He doesn’t say anything but she can tell it’s a struggle from the way hemoves, jerky, her usual mug clinking loudly when he sets it down.

Ooookay. Alighter topic is needed ASAP.

“How’s workgoing for you?” Caroline asks.

“My clientssend me a steady stream of requests.” Klaus’ main source of income isillustrations, mainly plants that appear in textbooks and field manuals.

She thinksabout dropping it, about sitting quietly and sipping her coffee but a silencethat long seems excruciating and Caroline just can’t do it. “And yourpaintings?”

Klaus isfar more passionate about his own work, had often holed up in his studio at theback of the house for so long Caroline had grown worried and taken it upon herselfto bully him out to eat and sleep. He’s shown at galleries in several majorcities and while she doesn’t know much about how much he makes off of them thesize and location of his house tells her he must do pretty well.

He glancesat her, too quickly for her to read, “Stalled,” he replies, clipped.

Whoops.Maybe not the best choice of topic. “Sorry,” she offers.

He sets thecoffee in front of her and it’s the exact perfect color. A sip tells her it’sjust as sweet as she prefers too. “I hear you’re going to be an uncle again.”

She changesthe subject whenever Enzo or Kol bring up Klaus. It’s bad enough that she can’tresist the urge to check up on him via social media. Bits and pieces about hisother family members still filter in and she’d seen the announcement that Sagewas pregnant again the last time she’d been at Enzo’s for dinner.

“Finn’spleased, of course. Insufferably so.”

“Perfectlyon brand, then.”

That teasesa smile from Klaus, “Indeed.”

“The firstkid’s really freaking cute, to be fair. You Mikaelsons were given more thanyour fair share of pretty.”

He laughs,most of his bad mood having melted away, “Such flattery. You’ll make me blush.”

“Like youblush.”

Klaus’inability to feel embarrassment was something Caroline had deeply envied. He’dtaken delight in turning her on in public, both via text or by whisperingsomething filthy that no one else could hear. Her pink cheeks had likely givenanyone observant enough a big clue about the subject they were discussing.

She’d triedto turn the tables a few times and, though Klaus had loved it, he’d also alwaysmanaged to one up her.

In the end,once they were alone and free to do more than talk, Caroline had never minded.Klaus always kept his promises.

But shecan’t let herself think about thatjust now.

She findshim watching her, knowing, a little bit heated and she wishes she’d taken offher jacket too. Caroline clears her throat, “You’ve still got their food andeverything, right?”

Best toturn to safer topics and be a responsible pet parent.

“Assumingthey still eat the same thing, yes. I noticed Mojo’s looking a bit… er… plump.”

Carolinecan’t help the rather unladylike snort-laugh that erupts at his delicatephrasing. Klaus is quick to laugh too, ather she’s sure, but she lets it slide. She slaps a hand over her mouth tosmother it, gets herself under control. “He prefers the term roly poly, thankyou.”

“Noted.”

“We’retrying exercise before a food change. You know how picky The Professor is andit’s a pain to have them on separate foods.”

“I think Istill have one of those feather sticks they like to chase tucked awaysomewhere. I’ll make sure he gets his cardio in.”

“Probablynot necessary. I think Mars will get him moving just fine.”

Klaustwists to look out the window, “You’re probably right.”

She looksover too, notes the fence has been painted, and an easy conversation aboutother home improvement projects springs up. She’s actually startled when herphone buzzes, the notification that her cab is arriving shortly.

Carolineslides off her stool, rounding the island. She’s got one hand on Klaus’shoulder, the other on his jaw, turning his head to her, and her lips pressedto his before she even thinks about it. She’s sat in this kitchen with him, shared coffee and smiles and talked about things big and small, so many times. Kissing him goodbye is muscle memory.

She freezes, her muscles locking as shetries to process just how she’d gotten to this point. Her eyes go wide only tofind that Klaus’ have closed and he wraps an arm around her waist before shecan pull away.

“I’m…” herapology fails, ending in a squeak when Klaus stands, the full length of hisbody pressed to hers.

“I’m not,”he says, against her mouth, low and a touch gravely, just before his hand sinksinto her hair and tips her head up for a firmer kiss.

She knowsshe should resist, turn her head awayand tell him they can’t. He feels too good for her to want to.

His hands arefirm, the slightest bit unsteady, like he’s afraid she’ll disappear. He kissesher deeply, fast and fierce, with an edge of desperation.  She moans into it, moulding her body to his,touching him tentatively at first, with more purpose when he shudders againsther palms. She can’t bring herself to pull back until her lungs are burning.When her head falls back with a gasp his wet mouth drags down her throat,shoving her sweater aside so he can pant against her shoulder.

Carolinelicks her lips, tries to gather her scrambled thoughts. “This is a bad idea.”

Klausshakes his head, an immediate denial. He bites gently at the curve of her neck,careful not to mark her, and then licks away the sting. Caroline shivers, herthighs clenching together from the sensation, fingertips digging into his backto hold him closer.

She triesagain, “I can’t do this again. Not…”

Hestraightens, takes a moment to blink away the haze of want. When his eyessharpen Caroline swallows harshly, the gulp audible. He looks frustrated, alittle angry. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for months, Caroline. I’ve beenpatient, waiting for a sign. Pestering my brother at every availableopportunity, crossing my fingers that you weren’t doing something senselesslike moving on.”

Caroline’smouth falls open, her temper sparking. “Something senseless?” she spits. “Senseless? You’re such…”

“Senseless,”Klaus interrupts, his expression daring her. “Ill-advised. Foolish. Pick yourterm, love. They all work.”

She shovesaway from him but can’t go far, crossing her arms as the island digs into her back.“Well excuse me for wanting more than just sex, Klaus. For deciding I wanted tobuild a life with someone.”

His fistsclench at his sides, his harsh inhale shaking his shoulders. “We had a life, Caroline. One that I thoughtwas pretty bloody fantastic. One that you walked away from without evenbothering to tell me why. My brotherhad to do what you were too cowardly to.”

“I am not acoward,” she hisses. “You never said…”

“Neither didyou!” Klaus shouts, his hands rising in frustration.

“Not evenonce!”

It’s a weakdefense and she knows it but Caroline’s never been one to go down without afight. Klaus had been the one to start flirting, Klaus had been the one to kissher. Had he wanted more, her future, the rest of their lives, wouldn’t he havesaid so?

“I didn’t…”God, she wishes she’d thought to prepare for this conversation. It’s been along time since she’d felt this tongue tied. “Well, I guess I just thought longterm wasn’t your thing. You seemed kind of… scornful or marriage as aninstitution.”

“Because I’veseen it be a nightmare.”

Fair.Caroline’s seen her share of bad ones too.

“I figuredit would hurt less if I got out early,” Caroline mutters. “When I thought aboutmy future, all I saw was you. I didn’t think you saw the same.” She’d been theone to ease back from Klaus, had calmly informed him that it was time for herto have her own place over dinner. He’d been shocked, angry, had stormed out ofthe house. “I should have asked, huh?”

She’d beenscared to. Hadn’t wanted to hear Klaus tell her she wasn’t enough. She’d goneto bed before he’d gotten back that night. Had been taping boxes together whenhe’d woken up the next morning. They hadn’t had too many conversationsafterwards.

One of hishands runs through his hair and the other hovers. She watches him considertouching her, sees how his eyes flick to her mouth again, and then think betterof it. When he speaks again it’s quieter, incredulous. “I cannot believe youdon’t know that I’m in love with you.”

It’sshocking and she takes a moment to absorb the full weight of the statement, togauge his seriousness but she sees nothing but sincerity, a weariness, in hiseyes.  She moves this time, collidingwith him, kissing him even as her eyes sting with tears that want to fall. Thisis slower, searching, and she wraps her arms around him and let’s herself enjoyhow warm he is, how good he feels. He pushes her jacket off her shoulders, hishands sliding under her sweater, a little rough and greedy for skin.

The knockat the door tears them apart. Caroline considers ignoring it when her eyesflutter open to find Klaus’ lips swollen and his eyes dark, his breathing justas uneven as hers. “That’s my ride,” she rasps. “I wish I could stay.”

Had shestill been at her old job she might have been able to swing it. Her pay raisehad come with new responsibilities and she’s supposed to be leading tomorrow’smeetings.

Klaus tipshis head forward to rest against hers, “What’s a few more days?”

Ugh,torture. It takes great effort to pull away. “I’m back Friday. Do you want tohave dinner together? We can talk and see if we can figure this out.”

Klaus nods,“I’ll pick you up. We’ll get takeout and we willfigure this out.” He retrieves her jacket, shakes it out, motions for her tospin around.

She letshim help her into it, “So confident,” she murmurs.

Klaus laughs,pulls her back into him. He presses his face into her hair, inhales with acontented noise. “I finally got the full story from Kol only because Enzorefused to let him do anything more drastic. Such as lock us in a small roomtogether with only food, water, and condoms until we’d come to an agreement.”

“Yourbrother watches too many Lifetime movies.” Not that Caroline can complain. Kol’sthe only one who’ll watch them with her.

There’sanother knock from the door and, reluctantly, Klaus nudges Caroline forward,snagging her hand and enclosing it in his. She squeezes, “Can I call youtonight?” The idea of waiting three days to speak to him, knowing what she doesnow, is super unappealing.

Klausagrees, easily and instantly, presses her up against the door for one lastbrain melting kiss. It’s only the knowledge that there’s probably a veryimpatient cab driver on the other side that prevents Caroline from wrapping herlegs around his waist.

“Be safe,”he murmurs, just before he pulls away.

Caroline’sslightly dazed as she leaves the house. The cab driver confirms her name, grabsher bag and walks ahead to stow it. She’s lucky she’s walked down the porchstairs and the front walkway hundreds of times because she does it onautopilot. It’s not until she’s in the cab, turning to wave one last time atKlaus that she realizes she’s forgotten something.

If she werein a Lifetime movie she’s have made the driver stop, would have sprinted back tothe house. Caroline really likes her job, has very specific plans for hertrajectory. Thankfully, there’s always the wonders of modern technology. Shepulls out her phone, taps the screen to connect a call to Klaus and waits forhim to pick up.

“Caroline?”he asks, sounding puzzled. “You can’t have forgotten anything.”

“Just onething.”

“Oh?”

“I love youtoo. Just so you know.”

Klaus’reply is slow to come and Caroline holds her breath. “I had an inkling. But it’sgood to hear.”

She laughs,tipping her head back against the seat. “Hence the reason why I mauled you.”

His voicedrops, the tone familiar and promising seduction. “You can, of course, feelfree to maul me anytime.”

“I had aninkling,” she jokes.

Theycontinue talking until Caroline gets to the airport and has to focus onchecking in. In the evening, the next few nights, after she’s done with workfor the day. When it’s dark and she should be sleeping they get to the hardstuff. Her insecurities, the reason she’d decided to run without fighting. Howhard it is for him to say certain things. He promises to try, she vows never tobe afraid to talk to him about the hard stuff.

She leavesthe call connected, listens to him breathing to fall asleep.

In themorning, despite her lack of rest, Caroline feels fantastic. Better than shehas in months and, on the flight home, she gets an email from her boss sayinghe’s been hearing impressive things about her performance at the conference.

She and Klaus make a tiny little scene at theairport, get a little too handsy and heated considering their audience.

They forgothe takeout and, once again, the traffic gods smile on Caroline. Last time she’dthought it a curse. This time? Not so much. They manage to avoid any and alltraffic snags and make it to Klaus’ in record time.

The animalsare very excited to see them. At first. They quickly grow indignant when they’relocked out of Klaus’ bedroom without even getting a moment’s of attentionlavished upon them. The drapes come down again, half the books on the livingroom shelves end up on the floor. Along with a bowl of fruit that had beensitting on the kitchen island.

NeitherCaroline nor Klaus hear the commotion. They’re too busy making up for losttime.

[dyingunknown-blog]

BEGINNINGS + GENDER

As said in the introduction: this is a selfish blog where I rant about myself and my feelings. Here goes my first ramble. Within this ramble contains bits of: gender, femininity,  sexuality and eating disorders. Y’know, the usual mix of edgy Tumblr content. I am posting this in celebration of Pride Month (!!! YAY!!! I HONESTLY LOVE PRIDE MONTH) but also because I’ve had this build up in my heart for too long. 

A NOTE BEFORE I BEGIN...

I know you (reader) cannot hear me doing this, so imagine me (author) taking a deep breath, filling my semi spacious lungs, and releasing all that pent up air with a heavy sigh. 

Here we fucking go. Here’s to tip of the iceberg, from 4 years of pent up gay shit to recent moments of gentle gender dysmorphia. Do not expect my writing to be fully coherent, nor written in the best grammar. I am writing for my own therapeutic needs, because I gotta get some of this energy released and I have nowhere else to dump this. This piece is a full on rant, as in I literally wrote this angrily tapping away at 2-4 am. However, I’d like to mention that I mean no offence to any parties, and simply want to vent out some of the deep thoughts I’ve been pacing around for the past few years. Feel free to send me a message regarding your personal feelings, or to just chat. I’m always here as a friend and listener <3 

WHERE IT ALL BEGAN...

I think I owe myself and you (reader) an explanation on where things began to really start. The main “spark” that got me going and prompted me to start this blog was when I found myself unable to stop playing songs by Dorian Electra. Actually-- to be honest-- it was the music videos that really got me going. The glorious explosion of just “QUEER” screaming and banging its head at my 13 inch Mac Book Pro got me extremely inspired to actually do something about the gross reactions of confusion that were occurring in my brain and body. As Dorian Electra put it, “You know I’m not straight, but I’m gonna give it straight to you.” So here’s my best shot at “giving it straight.” 

By the way... I’m from a fairly traditional family with high hopes for me, so the most freedom I can really grasp onto is starting an anonymous Tumblr blog at 2 am laying naked with just my underwear on. 

PERSONAL TOPIC 1: GENDER...

So here’s the thing, I stick to my biological birth gender like it’s my lifeline-- my comfort zone-- I guess, if anything. I personally feel like gender and sexuality have their own little symbiotic (or perhaps parasitic???) relationship, where one’s gender impacts their sexuality-- but I can also accept that my understanding is probably not politically correct. I can say, however, with a heavy heart: 

I am utterly fucked when I think about my gender and sexuality. 

I’ll take it easy first and rope down my feelings towards my gender and its definition. I jokingly scream in the halls that gender is a social construct, but let’s be honest-- is it not?  Other than our dongle-longs and hoochie-has, what makes a woman different from a man? I mean maybe it is just the sausage and the grapefruit, but I’d like to argue that... Just kidding, the more I think about it the more I fall into a rabbit hole where I can’t figure out what a male is and what a female is. I mean what are they? Is it based off of the definition I provide for myself, or what society conveniently slams into my face? Is the LGBTQ+ community the people who get to decide or is it the Westboro Baptist Church??? 

Note: these are not a rhetorical question, please answer this to your opinion because I’m in desperate need of some kind of direction beyond biology. I accept all ideologies and concepts. I’m just hella confused. 

Ehem.

Anyways, my own battle with gender goes beyond not knowing where the “line” is, or if it even exists (again, I’m still not sure if this is a personal question or something based on society...) It also goes into where I stand on this polarised scale. See-- I have a bean, a hole, and melons. Alas, in slightly more proper terms, I have a clitoris, vagina and breasts. So what does that mean for me? Am I automatically a woman? For the first 17 years of my life, I would respond to that question with a VERY confident nod. Pink was once my favourite colour, I like boys, dresses, cute animals and romcoms. My physical body only went to assure what I already knew. Now? I’m not so sure. As it is more acceptable nowadays to be “queer,” I’ve slid into the an identity crisis where I realise I’ve never revelled in the fact that I had tiddies, nor felt comfortable about having a coochie. I used to blame my confusion regarding my comfort in my biological gender on the growing queer influences in my life-- after all, everyone wants to be special and sometimes being apart of the LGBTQ+ community is the best way to stand out, especially when it’s being shoved in your face with media. Everyone who comes out of the closet is faced with incredible amounts of love and attention, and my younger self thought “maybe I should get on the boat” hence, labelling myself as bisexual for the longest time without truly feeling like I am (until in recent years.)  I blamed my confusion in identity and sexuality on the attention whore who lived inside of my heart. My feelings were only justified as true this year, when I found myself staring at myself in the mirror and couldn’t help but to feel unhappy with what I presented myself with. Undies clad with a slightly cropped black muscle tank, I could see the linings of a “V” line on my lower abdomen and felt kinda hot about it. I did the annoying fuckboy pose (you know, the one where the guy is biting his shirt to reveal his oh-so-humble six pack) and found it... kinda fun? I did have a 36D underboob flail around, but my focus was more on my bottom half, with my Victoria Secret blue lace underwear and masculine illusion.  It wasn’t like a grand glorious moment, nor was it like I was the tomboy of the house and everyone just “knew” and I only had to convince myself. Instead, it was an anti-climatic moment where I realised “fuck, I have another problem on my hands that I can’t ignore anymore.” 

I don’t know if I truly identify as female or male. Honestly, I don’t really think I need to identify myself, but that’s the 30% of my consciousness who is super queer, chill and cool. See, the other 70% of my mind is going in a frenzy screaming, because I just lost one of my key defining attributes. Think that episode of Spongebob, where Spongebob’s brain cells are screaming and throwing papers around the office setting of his brain.

Another question has also become increasingly relevant in my journey of finding my “true inner zen self.” 

Who am I choosing my gender for?

In 2018, and most of the years before, I adored being loved by boys and having guys waggle their dicks like dog tails for my tits and ass, but in 2019, I randomly figured out that I never liked my boobs for anything but that. I mean having an hourglass figure was always (and still is) a goal of mine, but I question for what reason. I’d like to say it’s for personal aesthetic appeal, but it wouldn’t be surprising to me if I just do it so people will like me more. In fact, I battled with bulimia for the very reason of: I don’t know what the fuck I want or like, but  the crowd likes “skinny thick” girls so lets do that by purging. Am I currently wearing a waist trainer and corset on top of each other because I like the outcome, or because the people around me like me more for it? I’m trying really hard not to segue into the alluring topic of toxic femininity, because I can rant for HOURS AND PAGES about that, so I’ll just say: I don’t know if I’m being a girl for myself or because I’ll be more liked for it. 

In all honesty, the truth regarding my gender became clearer the more I self conscious I became. In 2018, I fell into the trap of sending boys nudes (apologies for the TMI and sorry family if you somehow came across my blog and are currently reading this.)  I liked it for a millisecond. Why? Because it felt good to have someone desperate for me. That millisecond died off real fast. My own thoughts pooped my nude Alpha Female party with insecurity and fear of how my body compares to other girls my age. Three days after the first nude I sent I realised I hate my body. I felt empowered in the moment (honestly I do love the feeling of tease. I still do send ohohoho raunchy pics for the pure euphoria of just having someone crave me) but overall just left the experience with lingering guilt and self hatred. I wasn’t sure if I was doing this to please myself or others. I also abhor taking nudes, because I do not think I embody femininity and dislike my body for that very reason. Identifying as male makes me far more comfortable than as identifying as a female. I might have tits, I might have soft facial features, but I just don’t like how I mentally feel like I can’t compare to the unrealistic standard of femininity that women uphold. I spent my whole life trying to  tick the boxes under “female,” but always felt like I was just doing the bare minimum... Hence my past is full of desperation, the need to show skin for the sake of proving I’m “sexy” and being perfectly fine with getting mislabeled as a slut at school. Nowadays, I show skin because I’m comfortable and am learning to love my body. I am not okay with slut shaming in general, but I am most definitely not okay with being called a slut either because I’m still a fucking virgin. So hun, I really do wish I could call myself a slut and have that much game, but I’m very far from that.

Anyways, uh more on my gender crisis:  I’ve also always adored mens fashion and absolutely revel the aura of being the “alpha.” Ever since my middle school days, I’d secretly snoop around and envy the men’s section of Barney’s and Saks, because it just looks so damn cool. Excuse my lack of “high quality language,” I can hear my English teacher sighing about my lack of “professional” or “appropriate” language, but I really can’t express my feelings regarding mens fashion other than it’s fucking cool. I must say though, my style of clothing and expression of self doesn’t stop itself at mens fashion. In fact, I enjoy dressing to exhort a more dominant presence, whether it’s with a short denim skirt and tight crop top or a loose fitting silk blouse and skinny jeans with a belt. So I guess in a way, my fashion and what I feel comfortable in explains my gender for me. A little bit of both and a little bit of neither. Although the next step would definitely be playing around with my hair and piercing, but I think my traditional family would whoop my ass to the moon if I do it now, and I can’t say I’m not scared of regrets. I just want to discover myself a little more this year...

Regardless, I just wanna further clarify that I don’t feel comfortable being put as female, male or hell-- even androgynous.

And I gotta say, after holding this in and denying it for 4 years, it feels damn good to type it out and admit it.

 In deciding to be a “gender”, there are standards. Deciding to be anything comes with the price of standards. I just can’t personally handle not being able to fit into the standards there are for them... Especially now since people are so bothered on being politically correct, so if I’m “not being properly androgynous” or “not properly female,” I’ll get shit on, and if I’m not accepted by the mass majority, I’ll feel societal hate mixed with self hatred. 

I also want to say that sometimes I don’t feel like I have the right to be confused or declare a gender because I’ve been on the judgemental side before. 

In middle school one of my close friends moved away, and soon later began to label themselves as gender fluid. It was such a new concept that I initially thought that they were doing it as a publicity stunt, but slowly realised that it is indeed who they are. I wasn’t hateful, but I can’t say I’m innocent, even if it was when I was far younger and less understanding. I remember when they first started using their current pronouns, I was confused on how to utilise them and initially disregarded them. Today, I regret my ignorance. Misgendering can always be a mistake, but it can also be extremely spoiled, belittling and condescending. So even though I know someone that probably went through a similar journey as I am today, I feel guilty asking them about it because of the shit I gave them when I was 14.

 Additionally, I’m scared of being wrong about myself. I can’t describe it too well, but I’m just scared that I’ll slip up a wrong opinion and then be automatically thrown into the can of “special snowflake wannabe LGBTQ+” when in reality: I truly feel like I’m not of “cisgender” or anything normal. I don’t want to dip too deep into my history with crippling anxiety and experiences with depression, but I will say that I can’t help but to hate myself for being queer too.. Alas, I’ll have to learn how to get over that and continue loving myself, but what the hell am I going to do now? 2k words later and things aren’t exactly clearer, but I can (somewhat) confidently say that I know what I’ll do (for now.) 

As of today, June 17, 2019, I have decided to not give a fuck and to simply just identify with the LGBTQ+ community. I don’t feel comfortable identifying as male, female, neither, both, gender fluid, or anything else. I will simply put off gender and let people call me by whatever pronoun they want.

I just wanna be me. 

Until I find out something else, or become more comfortable with myself, or gather the confidence to “come out of the closet” and stop being so selfish and finally decide what the hell I am, it’ll probably just be like this for awhile.

And honestly? I think I’m okay with that.

[wickedgamesfanfic]

Chapter 1

Shani

"I'm really not feeling this idea." I admitted pulling at the legs of my cream colored romper before gawking over my body in the mirror.

"Doesn't matter. It's the last minute. Changing your mind at the very last minute goes against every bestie code ever established." Imena playfully joked. "Besides it's just a party. Last I checked you were still into those." She said rolling her eyes. Imena couldn't understand the place I was in my life and I couldn't blame her. Shit I barely understood it myself. All I knew was things that used to excite me were becoming old. And I do mean fast.

"I'm still into parties." I admitted. I still enjoyed a good wholesome kick back every once in a while but this was no average party. "But hanging around your snobby Hollywood friends is not what I'd consider my type of soiree."

"They are not that bad. You just gotta loosen up a bit. And stop being so judgmental. Remember there was once a time when you didn't think you were even going to like me." She small smiled before tugging at my top in an attempt to expose more cleavage than I was comfortable with. I laughed before playfully smacking her hands away and pulling my top back up a bit.

"Who ever said I liked you?' I quizzed with a raised brow.

"Come on cow!" She sang playfully smacking me on the bottom with her clutch before heading towards the door. I looked myself over in the mirror once more. Here goes nothing.

Michael

I stood on my deck as the sun left foot prints across the sky. Taking in the beautiful property that I was lucky enough to call my home. And wishing there was more time in a day. Just for moments like this. My life had become so hectic. I rarely found time to just enjoy the simple things. Things like watching the sunset.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm far from complaining. What did I have to complain about? Everything I had worked so hard for had slowly but surely become mine. All my late nights and early mornings had manifest my dreams into reality. And I was grateful. But if I had to be completely honest ... something was missing.

"You gotta be kidding me?" Darwin expressed spooking the shit out of me as he stepped onto my deck.

"What the fuck bro?!" I yelled trying to calm my nerves. This was supposed to be a gated property but so much for that. "How the fuck?" I quizzed through clenched teeth as he began to chuckle before briefly slapping hands and pulling me into a brotherly hug.

"I told you to stay woke. Both literally and figuratively. I've been banging that little chick Jessica for about three weeks now. Ever since your birthday cook out. She'll let me into her mother's casket if I whisper the right thing into her ear." He said mischievously. "You're not even dressed." He scuffed slapping his palm against his forehead.

"About that ..." I started before turning my back to him.

"Nope ... don't even try it. You owe me a night out. We supposed to be boys. You been knowing me since we were yay high." He stated placing his hand to his knees.

"It's just that ..." I started again before quickly being cut off yet again.

"It's just that my ass." He stated angrily. "Look you drag me to all your bougie gatherings and all I ask is that you accompany me to one party. Is that too much to ask for?" He quizzed.

"Nah bruh it's just that ..." I started for the third time before he quickly cut me off again.  

"Imena's going to be there." He whispered and I knew right at that moment I no longer had any other choice but to go. Darwin was like a little brother to me. And he had confided in me how into this Imena chick he really was. She was an aspiring actress. From the Midwest full of spunk and personality. Darwin had dropped my name more than once in an effort to perk her naïve ears. And even to my own surprise it had worked. He went from throwing weak shots into her DM's to full blown phone conversations after accompanying me to a few after parties and posting pics to his Instagram.

Although this backyard get together wasn't necessarily my scene I figured what hurt could it do. For the sake of my brother's pride I could make a brief appearance. Maybe snag a little snack for later and I wasn't talking about food. Besides I wasn't ready to explain the truth to him. The fact that I wasn't as happy as I appeared to be and still wasn't quite sure why.

"I'll be down in ten." I said handing him the keys to my European sports car.

Shani

We walked up to the mini mansion off the shore of one of Los Angeles many beaches. I instantly began to feel uneasy as we were led through the home and into the backyard. The music was loud and the smell of gas run grills was strong. For the life of me I couldn't understand their desire for gas grilled meat.

I looked around and wasn't in the least bit surprised by what I saw. The typical L.A. party scene. Music, pools, half naked women and men dressed to impress drizzled in gold jewelry. I rolled my eyes lightly. "See it's not that bad." Imena said nudging me with her shoulder. I shrugged mine feeling the complete opposite as I searched for the bar. I already knew I was going to need at least two strong drinks if I was going to attempt to enjoy the night.

I headed for the bar as Imena spotted a few of her west coast buddies. She waved happily before telling me she'd join me shortly. I waved her off not in the least bit surprised that she had left me to my lonesome so quickly. I found a spot at the end of the bar before pulling out my iPhone and scrolling through my Instagram as I waited for the bartender to tend to me. She finally asked me for my drink order and I placed it. A coke and henny was in order because I was far from my comfort zone.

Upon accepting the drink and tipping her generously I placed the thin straw against my full lips. Taking a moment to take in the scenery that had engulfed me. It was beautiful here. Even the people were a site to see. But somehow it lacked depth. Everything here seemed so superficial. Nothing ever touching further than the surface. And it was such a pity. What was beauty without depth? A question that I had pondered as a writer my entire life.

I took in my surroundings. A bunch of twenty something year olds caught up in living in the moment. And it was true that all we ever had for sure was the moment ... but was that all. I moved here not too long ago. Imena had graciously taken me in after a self-published book I had written caught the eye of a major screen writer and director. Her acting career was slowly but surely taking off and the doe eyed naïve girl I met in junior high had begun to blossom in front of not only my eyes but the eyes of thousands.  And I was happy for her. I truly was.

But L.A. was something I wasn't prepared for. As a writer I was used to working in the background. Never intending to be in the spotlight. I was a watcher. A creep. An observer. I took into myself my surroundings. Never seeking to be sought.

I sipped my drink as my gaze ventured into the stars. The beach at night being one of the few times the sky and the ocean seemed to become one. I gazed a little longer before sipping a few more sips from my cup and closing my eyes. Thinking to myself how close I was to success. And possibly purchasing my own west coast beach front property. Minus the crowd.

As I sat on the stool at the edge of the bar an unknown heat encompassed me. Breaking me away from not only my dreams but my thoughts. And an unnerving feeling swept over my body. I opened my eyes and quickly began to scan over my surroundings. In search of what had been searching for me. Energy seeking energy. Heat seeking heat. Belonging seeking belonging. Understanding seeking understanding. My eyes falling on Michael B. Jordan.  

Michael

I sat firmly on a couch located to the left of the DJ's booth. It wasn't very private but I'd take what I could get. I had no intentions on working the crowd. I was only here to support my brother. And other than that I planned to stay out of the way for the most part.  

We had been here for all of 40 minutes and I was well into my second drink. I wondered if my brother had gotten stood up. And plotted on ways to never let him live this down. I watched the entrance as many faces flooded through it. Some familiar and others I'd never laid eyes on. One face however was all too familiar. Lydia had walked in with a couple of her friends and I strongly entertained the idea of sneaking out but quickly disregarded it. I was getting way too old to be ducking females. If she wanted to confront me about my recent lack of interest in her then she had the right to do just that. I'll admit I could have handle the situation more maturely but then again I knew she'd want an explanation for why I was blocking her out. Especially when things were going so well between us.

The truth is I really didn't have an answer for her. It just didn't feel right. At least not anymore. She was a cool girl and all. The type of girl who didn't ask for much. She just fell into place. She didn't hassle me about a title and would barely bat an eye if I went out with another girl. And whenever I'd call she'd come running. She was bad as hell. And to most niggas she'd probably be a dream come true.

But not to me. At least not anymore. I had quickly found myself bored with her. And I couldn't even say it was entirely her. Maybe I had become bored with myself. Unsatisfied with my current lifestyle. At one point a cute face and a banging body was all I needed in a female. I wasn't too concerned with much else.

But now I found myself yearning for mental stimulation. I don't know when or how it happened. I just woke up one day and needed something more. I wanted to be challenged. I wanted a woman who had a mind of her own. A woman with a voice and a presence that could bring even the strongest man to his knees. A woman who could stop the hands of time. And Lydia wasn't that. None of the women in my phone were that. I mean other than my mother. Now that woman ...

Lydia eventually spotted me. Our eyes locked for a moment and to my surprise she didn't come stomping my way. She continued to mix and mingle with her friends and for a moment I was relieved. But then in she walked. And just for like that ... time stood still.

She walked a few steps behind a very pretty model like girl. But her looks were unchallenged. She stood about 5'8. Caramel Skin. And had a body no surgeon could recreate. My eyes glazed over physique that was nicely wrapped in a fitted romper that left little to the imagination. It amazed me that a fully clothed girl in a party full of half-naked women had my full attention.

I watched as her friend excused herself before heading towards the pool. She rolled her almond shaped eyes before heading to the bar. I chuckled to myself realizing I wasn't the only one who had been dragged here. She took a seat at the very end of the bar. Almost out of my eye site so I placed my elbows to my knees to get a better look. She took a sip from her drink before briefly rolling her neck. I watched as her eyes became fixated on the ocean before her head turned towards the night sky. She took a few more sips, her gaze never wondering. And I thought to myself what a sight to see. She could care less about the party and the scene. The stars had her full attention.

And I couldn't stop staring at her. God knows I tried. This wasn't like me. But I couldn't look away. Everything about her drew me in. Her full lips. The tightly coiled curls that danced just above her shoulders. Then she looked my way. Our eyes locked. And to my surprise she rolled her eyes before returning her attention to the stars.

Shani

I rolled my eyes before returning my gaze to the universe. Since I had been in L.A. I had run across a couple of hims. And unimpressed wasn't even the word. Especially given the rumors I had heard about him. And I didn't need that shit in my life. The hell was he staring at me for. We both know I'm not his type.

"Shani." Imena said lightly tapping me on the shoulder. I turned in my seat to find her and Darwin wrapped in each others arms. I only knew of him from her. She was absolutely smitten with him. But I wasn't sure if it's was because of his personality or the connections he had to the entertainment industry that he constantly pushed down her hopeful throat.

"Hello." I said before extending my hand to shake his. He took it but placed a kiss on it instead of y'all shaking it.  It took everything in me not to roll my eyes yet again.

"Shani this is Darwin. Darwin this is Shani." She introduced smiling widely.

"Nice to meet you." I managed to get out. Before quickly pulling my hand away and wiping the bit of spit he had left on it on my romper.

"I'd like for you ladies to join us." He said before looking over in the direction I had just pulled my attention away from. I hesitated for a moment before Imena grabbed my hand pulling me off the stool.

I followed closely behind the two as we neared the DJ booth. Trying my hardest not to look at him again. But I could still feel his eyes on me. I could still feel the heat from his gaze.

"Ladies this is my brother Michael B. Jordan. Michael this is the one and only Imena." He admitted grinning into her cheek. Her eyes were however fixated on the prize beneath us. "And her best friend Shani." He acknowledged throwing a head nod in my direction.  

Imena quickly broke away from us to wrap Michael in a loving hug. I looked on in amusement. How could Darwin be so stupid? She had gotten just exactly what she wanted from him without barely giving him anything more then a little attention. But we were supposed to be the country bumpkins.

The man I only knew from one side of the camera lightly embraced her but his eyes stayed focused on me.  And for a moment I felt uncomfortable. As if his sight was piercing through me.

She eventually released him. He small smiled. Before slowly rising to his feet. And he took a step or two forward. Towering over my body and my entire existence. I took a step back in an attempt to catch my breath never looking directly into his handsome face. He cleared his throat before mimicking my steps.

"Michael." He said in a deep voice before extending his hand for me to shake.  I quickly looked into his face. Into his eyes. Then away.

"Shani."  I whispered placing my hand in his. Wondering where my strength had run away to.  And to my surprise he gently pulled me into his chest.  And I lost my breath.

Lord knows I hated everything he seemed to stand for. A young successful black man who was caught in the lights. The attention. The stardom. The fame.

I stood dazed as he nodded his head at Darwin. Who quickly gathered Imena together and pulled her off into the party. I watched him drag her away over my shoulder. She whispered "I'll be right back." Before disappearing into the crowd.

"It's nice to meet you." He said just above a whisper. The warmth of his breath tickling the side of my neck. I shivered lightly before returning my attention to him.

"Same." I gazed into his face realizing we were alone in this corner. He smiled never releasing my hand. But instead leading me to a couch a few steps away.  

I reluctantly took a seat next to him. He scooted closer to me before sitting back and placing his arm behind me. My nose quickly taking in the beautiful scent of his cologne.

"What brings you to L.A.?" He asked catching me off guard.

"I'm from L.A." I lied trying my hardest to find Imena in the crowd.

He lightly chuckled causing me to turn in my seat. He shook his head slowly and I took a moment to appreciate how attractive his dimples really were.  

"What's so funny?" I asked curiously.

"You." He admitted. "You're not from L.A." He said matter-of-factly. "One look at you and I could tell you weren't from here." He furthered. Still slightly amused with himself.

I immediately became offended. "What in the fuck is that supposed to mean? Just because I don't look like the bimbos you're used to doesn't mean shit." I spat.

"I meant no disrespect." He admitted as his eyebrows furrowed. But it was too late. I was already pissed.

"Michael B. Jordan. Nice to meet you. But don't let little ole me take up anymore of your time. There are plenty of white bimbos here who would appreciate it more." I said before quickly standing to my feet and walking away.

Michael

"White bimbos." I repeated out loud to myself but only loud enough for me to hear it. I laughed a bit before continuing to watch her walk away.  Guess it's safe to say she's heard the rumors.  It's funny how lies sometimes become the truth.

I watched as she took the same seat she had just left at the bar. I rubbed my fingers down my chin. Wondering how I had fucked up that fast. I wasn't trying to be funny. I was just being honest. Anybody here would be able to tell she wasn't from these parts.

And to be honest that was a plus. I loved the sight of her. A real body and gorgeous face without the heavy makeup. The natural hair that danced above her shoulders. The fact that she wasn't start struck. At least not by a celebrity.

I continued to watch her as I had before. She ordered another drink. And I once again sat elbow to knee just to get a view. I wasn't done with her. Regardless of what she thought.  

I sat in wait. Waiting for her to look over her shoulder. Waiting for her to look in my direction. I knew she could still feel me watching. I knew our connection hadn't been that easily broken.

Just then the DJ played Wicked Games by The Weekend.  Our eyes locked. I bit my lip. She quivered. Imena approached her and pulled her from her seat. And the two began to dance together.

Slowly and seductively. I could tell that second drink had broken down barriers I myself could not reach. I enjoyed the view. Her hips winding to the music as her eyes stayed focused on mine.  The way her hands slid up and down her hips. I bit my lip even harder drawing a bit of blood.

I could feel myself rising in my jeans. So I slowly sat back. Quickly readjusting my pants. I took a deep breath before checking my surroundings. Lydia had somehow made her way over to me.

She seductively walked over into my lap. I eyed her legs as they wrapped around my hips. And she placed her pale face in front of mines. Her brown eyes full of lust. She threw her brown hair over one shoulder before attempting to grind on me.  And my dick immediately grew limp.

I gently pushed her away before standing to my feet. She softly pulled at me but I had no intentions on staying. My eyes were still on her. I noticed her dismay as Lydia sat on my lap. A harsh eye roll followed before she closed them.

So I decided to take this to my advantage. I slowly approached as she continued to slow wind with Imena. Upon reaching the two I slowly placed my hands on her hips and winked at Imena who had seen me coming. She eagerly stepped away as Shani continued to dance into my hips. And I tried my hardest to match each step. Slowly allowing my hands to travel down her thighs and back up her stomach. Even allowing one of my hands to cup her breast. A shallow breath managed to escape her lips.

But her eyes never opened. And we continued to bump and grind. Every push of her hips against me sending waves of pleasure through my body. And in this moment I knew she was what I had been seeking. All along.

As the song slowly came to an end her movements became wilder. But even more sexy. She quickly turned around and into my chest. I placed my hands into her hair pulling her face closer to mines. Her lips separated as did mines. And the warmth of our breathes could be felt as she winded against my dick.

I closed my eyes and let the music take me away. As my dick grew harder and harder. I had never been so turned on by the sight of a woman or let alone just the touch. I pulled her closer as the sound of her shallow breathing brought me closer and closer to climax.

And just as quickly as the song had started it had ended. Her body closely placed against mine. Our breathing short and sharp as the crowd began to clap. Neither of us realizing we had an audience.

Her eyes fluttered open. Finally meeting mine which had never closed. I stared deep into hers as she tried to reclaim her breath. Enjoying the beat of her heart against mine. She looked at me for a moment longer than I expected and I saw the truth.

She quickly fluttered her eye lashes before pulling away in embarrassment. I stood where she left me as she made her way back to her original seat at the bar. The attention we had unintentionally brought clapped and faded away.  

She sat with her back to me. I approached cautiously. Lightly tapping her on the shoulder. She slowly looked over it. "Can you do me a favor my brown skin angel? Could you tap that white woman for me?" I joked. And to my surprise she laughed. She slowly turned in her seat. And I stepped further into her. Remind me to thank Darwin.

[professionalkidd]

Post Abroad Vacation Depression (PAVD)

I’ve recently returned from my first trip abroad and let me tell you, its was, fucking amazing. Never hit below 80, water clear as day, females everywhere, and an unlimited supply of booze served by curvy bartenders whom I’m 86% sure were getting sick of my shitty spanglish compliments.

Nonetheless, as all good things, you come at the end (or something like that). My friends and I had to leave our new found home and headed back to The States.

 From warm sand to frigid snow all in a matter of a 3 ½ hour steaming flight. As the airport alcohol and extracurriculars from the night before wore off, I could feel the all too real depression of reality setting in.

Popularly known as PAVD, or Post Abroad Vacation Depression, this spiritually crushing disease can be fatal if not diagnosed correctly. Below you will find the common symptoms:

SYMPTOMS:

Listening to that one hype pregame song you played every night before going out - You know that one song with the heavy beat that you probably know only the intro/chorus to but still played it ONE LAST TIME before you went out, yeah, DAT ONE. Your subconscious will want to return to the blissful state that said song reminds you of, the common “Take me back” nostalgic feeling. It may sound good the first couple times, but after about the 42nd time, it will only leave you in agony.

Low desire to see anyone that isn’t tan or in a bathing suit - Your mind has just been fed with countless images of tan and half naked people that were friendly and down for almost anything, pretty much the opposite of normal life.

Looking at fun videos/pics from the trip - Chances are you don’t remember taking a good amount of these, but I promise you whatever the content, it is better than what you are doing now and you can’t go back. You may feel like you’re there, having a good time, drinking with your friends, back with that girl you should have hooked up with..YOU’RE NOT. Save it for another day when you’ve accepted the fact its over and you are somberly explaining them to EVERYONE that comes and asks “Hey, how was your trip?! -_-”

Desire for attention - Vacation makes you feel like the fucking man. No one is a dick to you and you don’t give a hoot about your actions, basically your invincible. You quickly realize once you get back to cell service thinking your phone is going to blow up with all these texts, that once again no one loves you but your mom and social media is the only place you have “friends”

Okay, so I may have exaggerated a bit on the “fatal” part a bit earlier, but in comparison to all the white girls that are “literally dying” every minute of every day, this is right up there.

If you find yourself returning from some extravagant vacation from over seas, and PAVD begins to set in, here are a few treatments to get yourself back in shit shot shape.

TREATMENTS: “Embrace it”

Stay in bed- Please don’t misinterpret, you won’t be sick or immobile (unless you caught some terrible disease then stop reading this immediately and get your ass to the doctor) NO, you will simply be so disappointed with your surrounding environment that you will want no contact with anything but your own room. This is by no mean a bad thing “Embrace it”. Your room is your dojo, alllllllll yours. Lock the fucking door if you need to and just do you boo boo.

Be Fat - Well all know the “Vacation Diet” you planned to start months before your trip (but in actuality you starved yourself a few days before then did 7 pushups before you hit the beach) ended the moment you stepped off the flight. Exchanged with familiar foods and foreign booze, the true vacation diet. Fortunately, once you return, you will have the same disregard for you body and health, “Embrace It” Greasy and fatty foods for days, maybe weeks depending how far out you are from your next beach trip. The downside is you will not be in the highest spirits for spirits (alcohol)….but lets be honest, your liver probably held you ransom enough on the trip that you now owe it a great debt.

Sweats - If you are lucky/smart enough to plan your trip so that you return with a full weekend ahead of you, then your in luck! De-vacation yourself with a long shower and pick out your favorite sweats because I promise you that they won’t be removed for the next few days. You’ll be covered in sweat and food stains from head to toe, but there will be few around that want to look at your tan-lined face so “Embrace it!”

Binge Watching - Not that this is any different than your normal day life, but with all this extra-bum activity, you will easily crush a few season of your favorite show. Its your bodies way of tricking your brain into thinking your actually doing something worth while…all while doing nothing at all. Say it with me….”Eeemmbbrraaccceee Iiiiitttttt!!!!”

“Release” (NSFW) - This isn’t the cleanest of treatments, but its completely natural and you’re already a disheveled ball of dirty clothes and blanks so “EMBRACE IT!!” Now, if you have a significant other who DIDN’T go on the trip with you (emphasis the DID NOT because if they did, they are most likely sick of your ass and are alone experiencing the same thing) and isn’t currently disgusted with you’re Post-Trip transformation, this may have just gotten a lot easier. Get them to lend you a hand (or a few fingers for my female readers). However, if you are along which is 97% of us, have some pride and do yourself a service: rub one out! Its no secret there are few better feelings then getting your rocks off. Have no shame and do it for you. You’ll feel a load(s) better!

So if you find yourself walking in your cold empty house, fresh off the flight from what felt like another universe, you were most likely met with a smack to the face with a good ole case of PAVD. Take note of these symptoms and treatments and you just may make it out alive. OR, at least won’t call off/quit your job Monday from the sheer combined depression alone. Eventually you’ll be back to your old sheep life until you sack up again to escape to a better life! To that I say, Happy Travels!!!

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

Ask D'Mine: Is Medicare Snooping? And Dead CGMs

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/ask-dmine-is-medicare-snooping-and-dead-cgms/

Ask D'Mine: Is Medicare Snooping? And Dead CGMs

Who doesn't sometimes need help navigating life with diabetes? That's why we offer Ask D'Mine, our weekly advice column, hosted by veteran type 1, diabetes author and educator Wil Dubois. This week, he takes a look at the federal government's involvement in approving test strip prescriptions, and — being an expert continuous glucose monitor user and book author on the topic — Wil gives some advice on what sometimes happens when a GCM transmitter stops working. Go on, read up!

Got your own questions? Email us at AskDMine@diabetesmine.com

Nancy, type 2 from Missouri, writes: When I picked up my test strips this month, my pharmacist told me that Medicare is requiring my pharmacy to have a copy of my blood sugar logs for 30 days, no more than 6 months old. An annoyance to be sure, since I tend to suck at writing them down. But, beyond that, I don't get the rationale. Is it some kind of test to prove that I use the damn strips? If so, what's stopping me from making up the numbers for a log? And it's feeling like a big fat invasion of privacy. I like my pharmacist, he's a great guy. But he doesn't make treatment decisions such as how much insulin I use or whether I'm in good enough control, so there's no reason that I can see that he needs to have my test logs. Perhaps Medicare is trying to make it annoying for me to get the strips so I'll just pay for them myself? Do you know anything about this?

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: I checked with some folks in the Medicare supply biz, and they tell me that Medicare only requires the 30 days of less-than-half-year-old data when a patient uses more strips than Medicare likes to pay for. As a reminder to everyone, Medicare guidelines only cover one strip per day for folks on pills and three per day for insulin shooters. Not enough in either case.

Of course, your doc can fill out the paperwork for an "over-utilization" request. If your doc has a documentable medical reason for your needing the amount of strips that any sane person would realize that any healthy diabetic would need in the first place, the feds are pretty good about covering them. Commercial insurance is another matter altogether, however. They take the fed guidelines and cast them in stone. Getting what you need from a commercial plan is a nightmare. Cost is always excessive and sometimes even then, you're screwed as they won't always listen to a physician's override prescription all in the name of "medical necessity." So much for this being between you and your doc ...

But back to your situation. Yeah, the feds do require the supplier or pharmacy to keep copies of logs or doctor's notes. It's nothing super-new; it's a small part of 2010's Improper Payments Act. And yes, it's absolutely a test to prove that you use the damn strips. An annoyance? Perhaps. But I gotta say, if Medicare is willing to give you twice or three times the number of strips that they misguidedly think you need—at no additional cost to you—I don't think it's outrageous for them to ask for occasional proof that you're actually using them.

Wow. Never thought I'd see the day I'd be defending Medicare. But will Medicare even look at your logs? Probably not. Medicare has a small SWAT team of medical reviewers that travel around the country and pounce unexpectedly on the suppliers cashing those big checks from the government. God help the pharmacy that sells you a gazillion strips, then gets raided during a random audit and can't prove that your doc ordered the strips, and that you're using them.

The feds aren't going to judge your blood sugar, they're only interested in whether or not you're actually using what they pay for. It's not about your health. It's about the money. So you aren't being judged, nor is your doctor. It's an anti-fraud kinda thing. Medicare is served by a legion of for-profit companies that get rich preying on seniors. Late night ads, aggressive phone marketing, and refill increases that neither doctors nor patients asked for or needed got us where we are today.

Now for you, Nancy, I have a few ideas. The log doesn't have to be hand-written. You can give the pharmacy a download of your meter—although I admit it is odd they asked you directly; typically they'd send a request to your doc. Anyway, if you don't know how to do a download, ask someone at your doctor's office for help. As to your privacy: yeah, the boys at the one-hour photo will absolutely look at your naked pics, and probably make copies for themselves, too. But I doubt your pharmacist is the blood sugar equivalent of a dirty old man. He'll probably put your log into a file cabinet without looking at it. Still, if you want to keep your blood sugar data more private (I understand), you can just have the statistics page for 30 days printed. The stats page gives the number of times you tested in the time period, the highest reading, the lowest reading, and the average. Is someone still peeking into your underwear drawer? Yes, but they'll be learning a lot less than they could from the full log book.

Could you forge a log? Sure. Why not? Teenagers do it every day. Usually in the waiting room at the endo's office. You could even ask for more strips, forge a bigger log book, then sell the strips on Ebay. The system isn't perfect. But the feds are more interested in keeping the suppliers honest than in keeping the patients honest.

One last thing. My friendly local EdgePark rep, one of the ones I queried about this issue, was mortified that you were turned away by your pharmacy, saying, "The pharmacy should not have refused the script, but should have at least filled the Medicare guideline amount, then required the patient to give them a log book," before filling the rest of the script.

Anyway, moving forward, I think we'll see a lot more requirements like this. Healthcare costs are out of control and there's going to be a lot of time and money wasted to ensure that we're not wasting time and money. But for me, I would have been more than happy to give my insurance company two log sheets per year to get the strips I need. I gave them a lot more than that, and was still turned down.

Allison, type 1 from Arizona, writes: OK, I need to get my Medtronic sensor going again. I have your CGM book in one hand and the little blue transmitter charger in the other. I'm trying to figure out why my charger is flashing red. I've changed the battery and even left it plugged in overnight. Suggestions?

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: Sorry Allison, you're screwed. Red is dead. A little-known, but apparently published (in small print, in Appendix MCXII of the MiniLink user's guide) fact is that if you let your transmitter fully discharge, it's the same as drowning a baby squirrel: There's no bringing it back.

You'll have to buy a new one. If it makes you feel any better, I did the same thing to an iPro transmitter at the clinic. My boss told me if I ever did it again, it was coming out of my paycheck!

So here's the deal, boys and girls: If you're taking a CGM vacation, put a fresh copper-top into the little blue charger and leave the frickin' transmitter plugged in. If you're on a CGM vacation and didn't do this, go attend to it right now.

No more drowned baby squirrels! It's crazy because we're "trained" to worry about over-charging batteries on our devices, but not warned that apparently, keeping a trickle charge going to your Med-T transmitter is its life support system. I guess taking our squirrel analogy to its extreme, keeping the transmitter charging is needed for healthy hibernation.

This is not a medical advice column. We are PWDs freely and openly sharing the wisdom of our collected experiences — our been-there-done-that knowledge from the trenches. But we are not MDs, RNs, NPs, PAs, CDEs, or partridges in pear trees. Bottom line: we are only a small part of your total prescription. You still need the professional advice, treatment, and care of a licensed medical professional.

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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