#and I have too see my psychiatrist this week and it’s going to be so difficult to be like well I was actually doing good until my dog died

[bonbonly]

𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: heavily inspired by hannibal - after hearing tons of praise in regards to psychiatrist!max verstappen, you decide to test your luck and see what his true colors are 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: this is a dark fic! you have been warned! do not read if you're not comfortable with dark fics or any of the following in this fic: dubcon, drugging/aphrodisiac, knife play, cunnilingus, p in v, character death, reader is not a good person, blood/gore, slapping 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i want to give a special shoutout to @gokyrts because look at the abomination she's made me write, oh my god...

"mr. verstappen's skills knows no bounds, but the only ones being bound under his spell are the countless patients he must've paid to spread his work as if it were a gospel," you echoed the words that you wrote onto your laptop, the rough draft being filled with small notes on the side of the document to remind you of any criticism of the man that you might've missed the first time. your fingers drummed against the keys of your laptop, your brows furrowed as you tried to find another sentence to add. to spite him. to inform him that he had to be a greedy, money hungry hoax. your friends always told you that his appointments were so relaxing, they were very helpful but you saw through his lies. you knew that something had to be up. working as a forensic scientist for the BAU, and secretly organizing a crime blog under a pseudonym, you've racked up enough credentials to be under verstappen's radar. perhaps he was the only one that knew about the blog, and it irked you.

he mentioned once after you stopped by his office to request his presence in the lab. direct orders from your boss, you stated, making it very clear with your tone that you didn't ask for it. you'd rather die than have him near the corpse, stealing all the credit that should rightfully go to you. the depths you went to find the real perpetrator days later was overshadowed by the single fact that verstappen had walked in and saw a petal of a rose just underneath the right calf of the corpse. a careless mistake, he told your boss, but one that could be easily tweaked if you had just scheduled an appointment with him so he could discuss parts of your childhood that you locked away, buried underneath your heels so that every time you stomped around, you imagined it to be the throat of your parents. you were told to accompany the psychiatrist back to his office, and when you dropped him off he merely smiled at you, his dutch accent infiltrating your ears, "you always miss the details, which is surprising because you never seem to do it under your blog, caroli- i mean, ms. (l/n)."

your blood ran cold at his words, and you stumbled out of his office with a hardened glare. he was reading your blog, and had somehow directed it to you. how did he know? there was no possible way for him to know. you worked for the fbi, for peter's sake, you knew how to tidy up evidence, to be careful when lurking through unclear waters. how did the bastard know about this? so, when you typed up the new article criticizing his work and suggesting that he might be behind the disappearance of a few colleagues of yours, you knew he would read it. with full confidence, you wanted him to read it and storm into your office ready to snap your neck.

but he never did. in fact, he never even looked at you at all the next day. or the day after. or the week after. he smiled at your associates, then locked himself in his room, welcoming in patients and booking appointments for the ones too timid to ask him for one. during a lunch break, you walked past his hallway and pressed your ear against his door to listen in to an appointment he had with your friend. the shattering of glass, a muffled scream, the sound of a bullet, metal cracking against her skull, any sound would do for you. you just needed one piece of evidence, but you received none. your friend walked out unscathed, a happy smile on her face as she greeted you back in the lab. your eyes cast down to your hands, a feeling of momentary guilt rising in your gut. you wanted to forge your hands into the fire for writing that article and painting him in a bad light; no favorable colors, no accurate brush strokes, a half-assed attempt where the paint bled through the canvas, seeping through the lines that you carefully concocted. it didn't make sense, you were so sure of it! all the victims -charles, lewis, carlos, daniel - your good friends who were missing had one thing in common: they had booked appointments with verstappen before their disappearance. they also were in contention to get a promotion, daniel had also been a psychiatrist, eagerly waiting for his new life to become the head of the department one day. it was a risky move, but you figured that if you pushed his buttons enough, he'd slip up. he'd expose himself, he'd make a mistake and then you'd have him trapped. the entire BAU would understand that they had a criminal right under their noses this entire time.

for this entire plan to succeed, you had to do a few things. your first plan was to write more articles on your secret blog. while the BAU was scratching their heads about how their confidential cases were being exposed so easily, you were dropping bombshell after bombshell on your blog, your finger always pointing to the psychiatrist that would now look at you across the room with a deadly glint in his eyes. his lips were always in a thin line, and occasionally you caught him smirking whenever you'd miss a detail during analysis. you were predictable to him, and you needed to find a way to defeat him at his own game. there was a reason as to why he hadn't exposed you yet, perhaps the lack of evidence but you realized that there was something about you that made him keep quiet. you had power over him, the thought of it made you giggle uncontrollably at your desk one day, spinning around your chair like a little school girl. the second plan was to use his own tricks against him, which meant finally noticing the smaller details, being smarter than the rest of the team and most importantly, being incredibly fast. whether it be responding to your boss, showing up to a meeting, scavenging a crime scene to find clues or evidence, you had to be first. this entire time the team thought of him as reliable because he was the first one present at all times. you had to change that, had to show the team that the tide was turning to your favor. you noticed the way he'd bite the inside of his cheek, the light illuminating from the side would highlight his cheekbones, the dent a shadow amongst the very little light on his face.

and then finally, the third part of your plan. book the appointment with him. this one hurt your ego the most, but in order to catch him you had to stoop down to his level. making him think that you were willing to open up to him should give him the opportunity to do the same with you, and once vulnerable you could easily coax the truth out of him. you sat across from him on a velvet chair, legs crossed as your eyes traveled around the room, memorizing the layout of his office and the objects that were on display.

"lots of cars i see here," you pointed towards one large model of an RB19 on his shelf. he buried his hands in his pockets, teetering on his toes as he let out a small chuckle,

"i like things that are fast. things that fly, speed through... run," the last word sent shivers down your spine, but you swallowed the bile that threatened to rise and forced a smile at him.

"care for a drink? i got some wine if you'd like?" he walked over to the stand of champagne bottles on display. the glass sparkled under the light, its contents swishing around with each step that he took closer. it reminded you of your guts wanting to spill out and as he grabbed the bottle's neck, you gulped and felt the ghost of his hands tightening around yours. with a cough, you shook your head but he rolled his shoulders in a way of disbelief and stalked over to you with a wine glass in his hand, "please, i think you need it. it's ok, it'll help you relax."

the liquid pooled down your throat, but you kept your eyes open in fear that he might take advantage of you like this. you couldn't let your guard down, not like this. you watched as he settles down on the couch directly across from you, his legs spread out giving you an ample view of what you assumed to be his cock fighting to be restrained in his pants but with a firm snap of his fingers, your eyes flicker up to his face and then you saw the smallest hint of a smile on his face. you hadn't seen one in weeks.

"so why exactly did you book this appointment?" he asked, tilting his head. his hands clasped together, the forefingers coming up to touch his lips. you shrugged in response, before quickly shaking your head. shit, you needed to follow along with the plan you made!

"just... just been having some bad nightmares about my past," you responded. the topic of your parents was sensitive, one that you kept hidden for many years after you graduated high school. their death was their own doing, but somehow you felt that you had a part in it. had the murderer been you, it would've made no difference because the guilt remained. the bystander was far worse than the actual criminal. your mother's head rolling down the hill as your father watched with a twisted back. you winced at the memories, the glass slipping from your hands, "fuck!"

max watched your reactions carefully. his eyes were drawn to the way your fingers hovered over the glass, almost afraid that it would grab you. you paid no mind to the wine stain, but the countless apologies that spilled from your lips was music to his ears. he wanted to hear you say them, but in a very different circumstance. he read every article you wrote, he noticed your shift in behavior around him. he was a psychiatrist; if you wanted to play mind games with him, he was already ten steps ahead. while guiding you to stand near the shelf of cars, he went over to his closet to grab the broom and dustpan. he took off his coat, rolling the sleeves of his shirt before crouching down to gently grab the large pieces of glass. he dragged his finger onto the pool of wine on the floor and licked a long stripe, "such a shame. i always hate seeing my appetite go to waste."

the appointment was cut short much to your chagrin. your carelessness, you thought to yourself, you just didn't understand why you kept making small mistakes like this. you had to train your mind to be better. you sighed and gave one last glance to the RB19 model when you noticed the initials D.R. in italics on the edge of the car. before you could step closer, you felt strong arms grab onto your shoulders, guiding you out the door, "ms. (l/n), i am so sorry about what happened here. i would love to hear more about your past, but perhaps in a setting that might not scare you too much. dinner at my house, maybe? would that be an offer you're willing to take up?"

you frowned at his words, wriggling away from his touch, "you invite all your patients to your house for dinner?"

"only the ones i believe i have a strong connection with," he responded, licking his lips as he leant against the doorframe. you tapped your heels a couple times, thinking the offer over. if you declined, you'd have to come back to his stupid office. but... but if you accepted, you'd be able to catch him in his environment - and while he had the advantage of home ground - he definitely had to be hiding things there.

"you mind if i bring a friend over?" you asked, and he smiled,

"the more the merrier, but i don't think we can talk about your history then."

"it's ok. we can talk about my life later."

"6:30 at my place, i'll send the address down to you shortly."

"oh, mr. verstappen, dinner is very lovely! did you make this all by yourself?" your friend asked while taking a bite of the lasagna. her words are tuned out as you shifted through your food with a fork. the darkness of the dining room did little to ease any of your fears. you had walked in feeling confident, ready to tackle the monster down with your bare hands, but his kindness. his professionalism. his unwavering stare. they all made you feel as if you were being suffocated. you didn't have much energy in you to continue with the fake conversations. excusing yourself to use the bathroom to then explore his mansion would be too cliche, he'd be waiting for you to do it anyway. being too predictable would bore him, which would mean the chances of you being killed would be higher.

"not liking the food, ms. (l/n)?" max asked, his eyes flickering down to the food he cooked being tossed around like a bird amongst hyenas.

"no, i'm just... not very hungry, unfortunately," you responded, grabbing the wine to drink.

"a bite wouldn't hurt. just one bite, i spent hours cooking for tonight," he chuckled, and your friend kicked your leg under the table, her eyes narrowing at you to take a bite. you could already hear what she was saying in her mind. the poor man went out of his way for dinner and here you are, being a rude guest! with a very reluctant sigh, you grab hold of the fork and let your teeth sink onto the lasagna, the flavor melting into your tastebuds as you let out a slow hum of approval. it tasted nice, very nice actually. so you took another bite, and then another. her appetite's back, your friend laughed and max nodded his head, smiling at you.

but when dessert rolled in, you felt uneasy. your insides felt empty, as if craving for something that you couldn't quite place. your thighs clenched together as your gripped onto the arms of the chair. you couldn't make out whatever max was saying. he was asking you if you were alright, but his eyes asked a different question. you hadn't noticed how big his eyes were before, or the fact that his pupils were so dilated. how did you miss that detail before? was he always like this? you quickly excused yourself, running to the bathroom but each brush of your thigh under the thigh made you choke on air, your mind hazy. upon locking yourself inside, you immediately collapsed onto the ground, your head in your hands. you felt strong pair of hands around your waist, groping at your tits that spilled out of your dress - or was it be ripped off of you? your pussy bare against the cold dampness of the room, your mouth propped open with fingers as the sweet taste of an apple made its way. your jaw was sore at how your teeth delved into the fruit and stood rooted there as your arms were bound above your head. was that the woody scent of a candle, or the fireplace that was underneath you? where was that burning sensation? under you... or inside you? your legs were being spread apart, the itchy rope curling around your limbs to make sure you wouldn't move. you opened your eyes lazily to see a figure with dirty blonde hair at the end of the table, his shiny teeth visible amongst the evil grin you saw.

"my favorite meal... all to myself." he whispered, letting his tongue rake over your glistening folds. your strangled moans are swallowed by the apple in your mouth, your body aching for more as his nose nudges your clit. his teeth nip at your labia, tongue invading your womanhood as you can't do anything but scream out loud, drooling from the corners of your mouth. his tongue rolls your clit around, lapping at any juice that seeps from your cunt. he wants to ensure your taste is on his tongue forever. the sweetest dessert that one would ask for. his fingers spread your mound to get a good look at his masterpiece and he lets his saliva stalk down to your pussy before harshly rubbing your clit. when you finally look past your tits to see who this figure was: your heart stopped at the sight of max staring down at you with a predatory look.

you screamed as you woke up in your bed, cold sweat dripping down your forehead. you glanced down to your hands, your feet, your clothes that covered your body. you looked around your room, unsure as to how you were back in your bedroom. it felt real... was it real? you couldn't tell. you pulled the waistband of your panties down, check to see if you were still a wet mess. nothing. laying back down on your bed, you placed a hand on your heaving chest and ran your free hand down your face. what just happened? what was going on? you had to find out, you had to get to the bottom of this.

which meant having to go back to his house. on guard, and once again with someone. you decided to bring a colleague that you despised, but it would be better to sacrifice her than your friend.

you sat across the dining table, and despite how predictable it was, you excused yourself to the bathroom, keeping note as to how his eyes focused on your ass. never miss the details, you thought to yourself. you headed to the bathroom, opening the door to turn the lights on before shutting the door. with a few fake thuds just outside the bathroom door, you took your heels off and carefully took them with you around the staircase. with the layout of the house, the dining room wouldn't give clear access to the left side of the kitchen. which meant that the pantry could be entered carefully without him noticing. your colleague was busy entertaining him about her vacation in milan, her loud voice thunderous enough to rattle the house... and enough to mask the creaking of the pantry door as you slipped inside. it was cold, almost like entering the arctic as you pulled out a tiny flashlight to guide you through the foreign place. the meat hung forlornly from the hooks, the torse of a pig on display. you frowned at the ink patterns on the meat, and you hesitantly turned it around. you'd seen these marks before somewhere. a vacation trip with your friends that you planned one evening. someone had dragged you into the pool as a prank and when you floated to the surface, spluttering out the chlorine water, your hands found the shoulders of a man inked with tattoos on his back. it was lewis. your flashlight slipped out of your hands and clattered onto the metal railings.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" you hissed, scrambling to grab the small material. you were delighted that your suspicions were correct, that this entire time you were right about verstappen. but you needed to get out. you could see the shadow of footsteps underneath the pantry door. there was a back entrance to the pantry, and you stumbled towards it. from the corner of your eye you noticed a bottle of liquid and you uncapped it with your teeth, chugging the liquid down. you really needed some wine to calm your nerves down at the moment. letting the bottle roll back onto the metal table, you ran out the door into the open woods. you'd have to go around the path to get back to your car in the front of the house. the more minutes you stood to think about a plan, the more time was being wasted. from the distance, you could hear the back entrance of his house being opened and you whined out loud, pushing your feet to continue running. you didn't want to die, not like this... no, not now, not ever!

and yet with each step that you took, you felt a strong pain inside you. that pain you felt when you had dinner for the first time at his house. you were craving for something, you didn't know. was it his tongue again? no, what? why were you thinking about that awful nightmare? you remembered the outline of his cock during your first appointment, oh it looked delectable. you could've gotten on your knees then and sucked him as payment for the appointment! as your mind was reeling with uncontrolled desire, your knees buckled and your leg caught onto a root from a tree. crashing forward with a loud groan, you struggled to get back up on your feet when you felt the underside of a boot press gently against your neck, pushing your face onto the ground.

"i told you before i liked things that run. at this point, you're just teasing me," a familiar dutch voice rang from above you. the boot nudged you over onto your back, causing you to hold back a whimper at the sensation. you were sensitive to everything, your skin on fire as he trailed his foot down your body and right below your heat. right below where your desire was burning.

"y-you killed them. i was right, you killed them all," you weakly laughed, "i was right this entire fucking time."

"round of applause for you, ms. (l/n), oh wait..." he paused, looking around the empty woods before he glanced down to you, "no one's here." he rubbed the toe-box of his boot against your clothed cunt, enjoying the way your back arched, squealing at the way your clit was being dragged along your damp panties.

"tsk tsk tsk," he circled to stand right in front of you between your legs, "you always missed the details. you could've made it, you know? you could've gotten to your car and made it back to your house, schatje. but it's your carelessness... what did you drink before you came out here?"

"w-w-wine?" you responded, tilting your head. you let out another moan as the boot dug deeper onto your mound.

"wine mixed into the aphrodisiac. which would've been my last resort if you had properly rescheduled the appointment that we never finished. details, ms. (l/n), always look at the details," he knelt down, letting his hand replace his boot. the warmth of his fingers made you whine, begging him to end your suffering. your mind was purely empty - save the thought of having him satisfy your primal needs. he bunched up your panties, tugging them up to see your pussy coat the fabric with more of your juices, "fuck... you're so wet. it must hurt doesn't it? you wish you had someone to help you, schat?"

"yes, yes, yes please... please!" you cried, bucking your hips up. max laughed, seeing the way your pussy was grinding against your panties. he ripped them off of you, throwing them over his shoulder as he picked you up into his arms, carrying you as if you were his bride.

"i think a change of environment will put you in your place." he mumbled, and while you didn't catch onto it at first, when he tossed you onto the metal table in his pantry, you felt fear course through your body. "such a nice suit i had on today, and now you made me ruin it."

he slips off his coat and vest, rolling the sleeves of his shirt that hugged his biceps. he searched around the pantry for a while before grabbing an apron, tying it around his slim waist. he gazed up at you as his chin tucked into his neck and he let out a dry laugh, "you know... if you had just stuck to your job, this wouldn't have been a problem. always wanting to be the hero, when you're the villain yourself."

he grabbed the butcher knife, tossing it in the air a couple times, "i used to keep him with a bunch of other knives, all neatly organized just like i love. had to use him so often these days that he gets his own special spot. what do you think? he's beautiful isn't he?" he holds the knife up to your hooded eyes, and when you don't respond, he uses the butt of the utensil to slap your face, beckoning you to respond.

"i-it's nice," you mumbled, and he nods his appreciatively, letting the sharp edge of the object gently kiss your skin before he cut away at your dress and bra, exposing all of you to him. he saw the lump in your throat when you swallowed, and he brought the edge of the knife to your neck, watching you crane around to avoid the sharp edge. he tossed the knife in the air once again, which caused you to shriek out loud in fear that it'll slice you but he caught it and tapped the butt of the knife on your lips.

"suck," he commanded, and still clouded by the aphrodisiac, you do what he asked and twirled your tongue around the tip before opening your mouth wider and letting it fully devour your throat. you caught your reflection in the metal, and you can't even believe how blinded you must be. the details, the details, the details. the body of daniel hanging above you, staring at you with closed eyes and parted lips should have you screaming as you rolled your eyes back, but instead you're feeling yourself growing wetter, eager to please max. the weapon hits your teeth as max trailed your saliva down the valley of your tits, over your navel and to your cunt that's been so desperate this entire time. he pursed his lips as if he was deep in thought and then brought his free hand to spread your legs wider, shoving the butt of the knife into you. the feeling of being stretched out, of finally being filled - even if only a little - had your back escape the confines of the metal table, your tits out in the air as you're sobbing in joy. max saw the way you're mewling, body contorting in pleasure and he left your cunt empty once again before slamming the butcher knife right beside your head. your breath hitched in your throat, the fear once again settling but it made your heart race in excitement. there was a small thrill present, maybe he was right earlier. you were the villain all along. you were worse than him. he took off the apron, unbuckling his belt and he snickered,

"you could've grabbed the knife and stabbed me by now, but you didn't... too desperate to get fucked, isn't that right, liefje?"

he let his cock spring free from the confines that tormented him since the day he saw you at the BAU. head held high, a haughty gleam in your eyes. the arrogance as you talked down to him, acted as if you were superior. he was waiting all along for this moment. his cock slid against your folds and when he pushed in, the tears that flowed from your eyes combined with the guttural moan made him smile. something was missing though, something that could make this so much more better for him. and as he began to thrust, he glanced up to see another corpse from a previous victim hanging to the side. a cruel idea formed in his mind and he grinned down at you,

"schatje, i don't think i could bring myself to hurt you... not when you're being such a good slut for me," he cooed, "but... but a man can't help but imagine..."

he grabbed hold of the butcher knife, slicing the corpse and letting the blood splatter onto the top half of your body. it trickled onto the table beneath you, the tiled floor now the canvas of a new twisted desire. he laughed out loud at the sight of half of your face covered in blood, and he brought the coated knife to your neck, continuing to thrust his aching cock into you as you screamed out loud in a horrid mix of fear and desire. you could feel your cunt clamp onto his cock, so close to cumming as his thrusts became more erratic.

"i knew you'd like this... you came all this way here to see if you could understand me. schat, but do you even know who you are?" he questioned, letting the edge of the knife kiss your neck. and as you came undone with a scream, your vision blurring at the intensity, you realized he was right all along. the details, you missed all the details. your parents death wasn't because of some man that had swerved the car late at night. it was you. you swung the sledgehammer at the car while they were driving down the highway, drunk out of your mind out of anguish from all the abuse you faced as a child. the man stopped to see the commotion and you sent his body flying down the hill. you'd done it, you were a murderer. you were twisted, you were... you were as bad as him. you glanced up to see max still bullying your cunt, pushing you to another orgasm before you could process the toll your body was taking in the process.

"your scent always drove me wild," he whispered, leaning down to bite your nipple, "fuck, schatje... i'll give you a deal." he lifted his head slightly to meet your gaze, "we can work together, you know? with your skill and this cunt of yours, i could keep you around. no harm to you at all, unless of course you'd like it."

"t-the blog... no, no, i can't... i'm better than you. i'm not you, i'm not fucked up like - oh fuck, don't stop!" your argument melts away with each snap of his hips,

"you have no other choice here. there's two ways this can go. you keep coming to my office, be my personal slut, trained completely to take my cock and i'll let you live... with the added benefit of working and helping me. and if you don't," the butcher knife digs a bit deeper into your neck, "i think you understand what i mean, right schatje?"

you nod your head, throwing your head back as you let out another visceral scream as your second orgasm rips through your body. he captures your lips in a bruising kiss, murmuring praises at how perfect you'd be, how you were always destined for this, no matter how much your ego told you differently.

and yet as you laid beside him on his bed that night, well-cleaned and taken care of as his new trophy, you secretly uploaded the photos of his pantry to your blog and slipped out of his house, past your dead colleague in the living room. he'd come after you, that was for sure. but he liked to hunt, and you've learned to run.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Turns out my mum wants to divorce my dad except actually she doesn’t so I have to keep it a secret and she hasn’t thought to apologise for freaking me out like that because I’m her therapist and she doesn’t care about how I feel :)))))

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[fruitpunchbitch]

…

[neverendingford]

.

[quevadilla]

can I just say how much I miss not having anxiety all the time

[paradiseprincesss]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝑬𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 | Jonathan Crane

NOTES -> Hello hello! im gonna be in uni full time again starting first week of september so uploads will be much slowerrrr im sorry. I’ll try to write as much as i can for u my little loves!

REQUEST -> Based off the prompt 15 from this list here

SUMMARY -> Your boss, Jonathan Crane, plans on isolating you away from your old life, consuming you whole until you become nothing but devoted to him...and you're too naive to see the mind games that the expert psychiatrist is playing.

WORD COUNT -> 3.3k

WARNINGS -> Smut, p in v, soft!dark Jonathan, doctor/nurse relationship, boss/employee relationship, creampie

MASTERLIST

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jonathan felt his chest tighten as he narrowed his blue eyes behind his glasses. His focus was locked on you and only you, along with the orderly speaking to you for the last few minutes.

You were a nurse at Arkham, young and bright-eyed, so full of energy — and that caught Jonathan’s attention. Your unusually cheerful demeanour and sweet aura drew him in, whether he liked it or not. Maybe it was how you’d always give him a cute little wave every time he’d pass by you, or maybe it was how you’d smile at him when everyone else seemed to cower away from the stoic doctor. 

Or maybe it was because once he saw you leaving work in your everyday clothes instead of your usual scrubs, and when you seemingly bent over to pick up your keys which you dropped on the ground, he could see the lace of your pink panties poking out of your low-rise sweatpants — but I guess we’ll never know. 

See, that was the problem. You were so sweet, but you were like that with everyone you worked with; which made Jonathan feel inferior in many ways, but he promised himself that he’d have you eventually.

He didn’t want to hurt you by any means — oh god, no. He’d rather torture himself than watch you suffer through any anguish. However, he did want everyone around you to fall victim to a rather sinister fate if it meant they stayed away from you. 

Jonathan didn’t really consider himself a sadist, but watching those around you seemingly go missing and suddenly quit their jobs at Arkham (unwillingly, of course), derived an innate sense of pleasure within him. 

That was one of the perks of being the chief psychiatrist — he had all the power in the world to do whatever he pleased within the walls of Arkham, no matter who he hurt in the process. Jonathan would quietly fire many employees who he felt were “too friendly” with you, but he’d always tell you that they’d mysteriously quit or that they had changed jobs. 

“Perhaps they just didn’t have it in them to help the…unique patients we house here,” he’d say to you. “Not everyone is as dedicated and as kind as you are, you know?” 

Foolishly, you let his flattery get into your head; you let yourself fall for him without even realizing it.

You believed that the universe divinely guided you to him. You were sure of it — he was just so kind and understanding. You couldn’t believe the other staff of Arkham didn’t see him the way you did! How could they dislike him? Fear him? 

To Jonathan, you were like an angel that fell from above, capturing his cold, dead heart within your warm, beating, and very alive one. You were so kind to the patients, so gentle with them — and your patients only ever had good things to say about you. 

As you spoke to the orderly in front of you about what you did over the weekend, you noticed your boss looking rather tense from the corner of your eye. His jaw was clenched slightly, and his expression unforgiving. He exhaled sharply before ushering you over toward him, causing you to excuse yourself from your current conversation. 

“Doctor Crane,” you greeted sweetly, “how are you?”

“I’m rather stressed today,” he answered softly, taking on that same gentle tone that he always seemed to take with you. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Everything is fine, but I'm worried about you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently, cocking your head to the side slightly as if to emphasize your confusion. 

“I think perhaps we should speak in my office about this,” he offered. “Come with me, please.” 

Your smile suddenly faltered slightly as anxiety and paranoia ran rampant through your veins.

Your paranoid thoughts had to be put on the back burner as you took a seat across from him in his office, watching him as he sat down at his desk. His suit was pristine as always — and today, he opted for a brown sweater vest underneath it.

You’d count every thread and stitch on his suit for him if he asked you to. 

“Doctor Crane—”

“Just Jonathan is fine,” he interrupted before clearing his throat. “I wanted to speak to you in private about a certain concern of mine.” 

“What is it?”

He sighed before he took off his glasses and meticulously placed them on his desk. He leaned forward slightly, and you stayed quiet as he hesitated for a moment before his smooth voice finally cut through the silence in his office between the two of you. 

“I’m worried that you may be overworking yourself,” he explained, looking at you with his tantalizing eyes. “I notice you pick up shifts and work overtime frequently, and I worry that you may be taking on more than you can handle. As your boss, I just want to make sure that you’re not burning yourself out as that can’t be good for you, and I believe in a healthy work-life balance.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, unsure as to what you could say to him — that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say to you. Perhaps you had been overworking yourself, but that was just a part of you. Having a strong work ethic was something you strongly believed in, but maybe he was right. You couldn’t care for your patients if you were too exhausted to, right? 

Now that he mentioned it, you were quite tired today. You started to think about it — as of recently, you’d been slamming coffees left right and center to stay awake at work, hadn’t you? You just wanted to help out since you were fairly new around here, but maybe it was doing you more damage than good.

Jonathan saw your usually cheerful demeanour deflate in his office, and he looked at you sympathetically, “I know this is not something you’d want to hear, especially from your boss of all people — but I just want to ensure that all my staff are doing well, you know?”

You bit your lip for a mere second, hesitating to speak before you let the words fall from your lips, “You know, Jonathan, sometimes I feel like you’re the only person here who actually…cares about me.” 

He internally applauded himself — in a moment of vulnerability, you sought out comfort in him. Just like he had planned. Just like he wanted.

“I think you’re an exceptional nurse,” he mused, “and truthfully, I do enjoy working alongside you. So yes, of course, I care about you. I remember when I first started working after finishing my residency, I would exhaust myself constantly. I’ve learned through many years that it’s just not good for you.” 

Jonathan’s plan was being executed perfectly — he wanted to isolate you. He wanted you to come running into his arms, far away from everyone else around you. He was on his worst behaviour today, but he believed you brought out the best in him. 

You weren’t overworking yourself, but with Jonathan’s quick wit, years of training in psychology, and exceptional gaslighting skills, you thought perhaps he was right. Maybe you should take some time off of work, you thought.

“Tell you what,” he said softly, “how about you and I have drinks tonight instead? Forget about work and such. I think you need it.”

His words caused your cheeks to heat up. He was your boss, and this was way out of line for a boss to ask an employee. However, it didn’t help that you were very attracted to him.

“Drinks?”

“My place at eight. I have a bottle of cabernet I think you’d enjoy — If I remember correctly, you said it was your favourite?” 

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “It is.” 

“So I'll see you tonight at eight, then,” he smiled softly, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “I’ll text you my address.” 

You nodded, slightly starstruck. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Once you’d parked your car on the side of the neighbourhood street, you stepped out into the chilly night, your high heels clicking against the pavement of the ground loudly as you made your way onto his porch.

You gave three soft raps to his front door before you heard shuffling coming from inside the house. After a few moments, the front door swung open gently, and Jonathan stood there with a small smile on his face.

“Come inside,” he ushered you, “make yourself at home, darling.”

And so you did. 

You two talked over a few glasses of cabernet, bringing up the topic of work a few times here and there, but he mostly attempted to get to know the real you. What you did in your spare time, what your hobbies were, if you were seeing anyone…

“Out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?” Jonathan asked you casually, but his voice dropped an octave as he looked directly at you, resting his hand on your thigh rather boldly. “I’m asking because I've seen the way you look at me…” 

“I-I’m sorry?” you stammered, your cheeks feeling warmer and warmer by the second with the way his hand was now resting on your leg. You couldn’t deny it now. “I didn’t mean…um, I just — you’re always so kind to me…and I–”

He shushed you softly, creeping his hand up a little further. “I’m quite flattered, darling. Not to worry,” he purred. “I figured it wouldn’t be very appropriate of me to tell you how hard it is for me to not look at you when you’re at work, but after today, I just don’t think I can help myself anymore…” 

Suddenly, his lips brushed up against yours, and as if it was instinct, your hands came to wrap around his shoulders. He let you pull him in even closer, his hands now coming to rest on your hips as you two kissed feverishly on his couch.

You and him were like a chemical reaction — explosive, unpredictable, and potentially fatal.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips in between kisses. 

A shiver ran down your spine as his hold on your hips tightened slightly, his words causing your brain to short-circuit for a moment before you could think clearly again. 

“Jonathan, I–”

“Don’t speak, just give into it, my darling.”

You let yourself get lost in the constellation that was Jonathan Crane, letting him run his hands all over your body and kiss you with an insatiable hunger. Soft moans left your mouth as he peppered kisses down your jawline and neck, nipping at the delicate skin gently. 

You would’ve been worried about him leaving marks because you wouldn’t want your boss to see the next day at work — but you had to remind yourself that he was your boss. 

But none of that mattered when it felt so right; when his lips felt so good against your skin.

“Can I take this off?” he rasped, toying with the strap of your dress. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Please, Jonathan…”

Slowly, he took the dress off of your body, gently tossing the garment to the side as he looked at you in absolute awe. It was like looking at a priceless piece of art in a museum exhibit to him — nothing could compare. Even a picture wouldn’t do the sight in front of him justice. 

“Should we go upstairs?” you suddenly asked. 

Maybe it was the handful of wine you’d shared that evening, or maybe it was just sheer arousal; you weren’t sure which one, but all you knew was that you needed him to have his way with you. 

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, taking your hand in his. “Just up the stairs to the left — I think I'll let you lead the way, darling…”

The two of you got up from the couch, hand in hand, and Jonathan’s eyes roamed your body from behind as you made your way up the stairs together. 

Of course, you came prepared — you know, just in case things were to happen. Before you left, you threw on your sexiest, laciest, lingerie underneath your dress, and it was a good thing you did because that investment certainly paid off.

He watched your hips sway in your lingerie, along with the heels you were still wearing (because we simply can’t forget about those), and he could feel his cock straining against his pants. “Pretty girl,” he mumbled from behind you. “Your body is heavenly.” 

“Shush,” you giggled, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him close once you reached the bedroom. 

He looked down at you in the dim lighting of his bedroom, noticing the way your skin was glowing under it. Your hair was slightly messy from making out on the couch earlier, and you had a small smile tugging at your lips — you were perfection if he’d ever seen it. 

Jonathan kissed you rougher this time, his hands finding their way into your hair, tugging ever so gently against your scalp. He backed you up onto the bed, pushing you down onto it as he undid his tie, looming over your delicate body which was sprawled out on his king-sized bed. 

After taking his tie off, he threw off his suit jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. You hummed softly, running your heel against his leg as he rushed to get himself out of his clothes. The tent in his pants made it all the more obvious how desperate he truly was for you, but you stayed patient. 

Once he was on the bed with you, he helped you out of your bra and panties, causing your cheeks to heat up from how exposed you felt. “You’re cute when you blush,” he commented when he noticed your blush, making you all the more flustered while he undid his belt. 

After freeing himself, his thick, veiny cock caught your attention, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. He was big — you weren’t sure how that was supposed to fit, but right now you were so wet, you were almost certain your walls would stretch out around him with ease. 

He lined himself up with your dripping entrance, giving himself a few strokes before looking at you with his lip caught between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and you nodded feverishly. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

Your back was arched and you let out a filthy moan as he slid himself into your warm, sticky cunt with little resistance. The sheer size of him alone had you feeling so full, and he stilled as he bottomed out in you so that you could adjust to him. “Tell me when,” he said softly, his hand coming to brush up against your hips softly. 

“You can move now,” you breathlessly said, giving him the green light. Your breath got caught in your throat as he started to set a gentle but deep pace, the tip of his cock brushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust. 

“O-oh–” you moaned.

His hands found purchase on your hips, and his eyes trailed over your face as he fucked you sensually, but slowly, eventually going harder and faster as you got accumulated to him. “So fucking tight, Jesus—” he choked out. You’d never heard him curse before, and his smooth voice had you clenching around him, to which he let out another moan. “Fuck, darling — you feel so good.” 

“Mm-hmm!” you squeaked, taking his cock deeper and deeper into your soaked cunt with every stroke. “Jonathan, fuck—!”

“Right there, darling?” he cooed softly, slamming his cock into your hole much rougher now, causing you to see stars as he stretched you open on his thickness. “Feels good, baby?” 

“Yes, yes, yes — oh my god!” you chanted, grabbing onto his biceps as you felt his fat cock drilling you. You were letting out feverish moans, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you became increasingly more cock-drunk by the minute. 

Your moans were like music to Jonathan. Like the sound he would hear being played once he died and went to heaven — because to him, this was heaven. You’d come running into the arms of the man who was slowly isolating you, breaking you; cornering you into his heart. 

But there’s always something so right about something so inherently wrong, isn’t there? 

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he groaned, watching you with furrowed brows as he concentrated on your pleasure. “Are you close, darling? Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered breathlessly, moans being forced out of you with every delicious thrust he gave your cunt. “Gonna– oh, I’m gonna cum!” 

Jonathan watched in a mixture of pure bliss, awe, and satisfaction as you fell apart in his very hands. Yes — this is where he wanted you. He just wanted to love you, to show you how perfect he was for you, to take care of you and make you see that everyone else around you was just a waste of time. 

No more talking to orderlies who’d flirt with you, no more going out for after-work drinks with the other nurses. No, none of that. He was going to make sure that you’d work under him only, figuratively and literally.

“Gon’ cum,” he groaned, feeling his cock spurting ropes of cum into your warm, tight hole as he gave you a few more lazy thrusts, not bothering to pull out. Your mind went blank as he filled you up wholly, stuffing you with his sticky, warm seed as you lay there fucked out from what just happened moments prior. “Why don’t you stay over tonight?”

You looked up at him groggily, mind still foggy from your orgasm. “What? I work tomorrow–”

“Take a paid day off,” he shrugged, pulling his softening cock out from your worn-out hole. “Use as many as you’d like darling, I won’t tell.” 

His teasing words caused you to throw your head back into the pillows blissfully with a sigh, genuinely believing that he only had your best interest at heart — he just didn’t want you to overwork yourself. It’s not like he was planning on totally locking you away from every living being in Gotham besides him or anything…

“I feel bad though,” you murmured sleepily. “I feel like I’m – I dunno – abusing my privileges.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty girl,” Jonathan assured you softly, turning off the lights so that only the moonlight was dimly shining into his bedroom. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head as he pulled the covers over you both, cradling you in his arms like you were made of fine china. “You know I only want what’s best for you.”

“You’re so lovely, Jon. You truly have such a kind soul.” 

“Surely nothing compared to yours, my darling,” he whispered against your hair as you closed your eyes. “Now, get some rest. We can talk about moving your things in here in the morning…”

Unfortunately, you had already dozed off in his embrace; too busy being washed away by sleep to hear his words. Jonathan smiled to himself — he’d never let you go now. You’d lost all control the moment you stepped into his house, unknowingly making yourself a hostage of some sort.  

In the end, as you clung to him, believing he was the saviour from your exhaustion, you failed to see that it was his “love” that had slowly consumed you whole, leaving you nothing but a hollow shell, devoured by the very hands that promised refuge.

Sometimes, the most dangerous traps are the ones we walk into willingly, thinking they’re the key to our freedom, as they say. But the cruel irony of it all is that we think we’re being saved from the jaws of this terrible world, only to be eaten alive by those who we call our saviours. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Taglist -> @girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebellebarnes @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat

[fulokis]

I got added to a book group and I’m not sure why, like I struggle so badly with reading it’s not funny. Maybe it’s cause I write but like even then it’s not original shit it’s just piggybacking on other stuff and I haven’t posted any of it in ages

[wingedjellyfishflight]

The Couch

Your official job is as a psychiatrist, but not a single one of the men who visit you care about that. They don't care about you at all. They just want... your cozy damn couch. Every time you walk in the room, there is a big burly man sleeping or lounging on it. Rarely, it is a woman. This time, there are three of them fighting over it. You sigh and submit a request for three more couches. When the supply officer asks why, you claim it is for group sessions. He sends one couch over. It is almost as comfortable as the original, and they take to it quickly.

You stop in your tracks the day you spot a KorTac man sitting nervously on the couch. So far, only Price's team and his associated strays have taken advantage of the open couch. You smile briefly before moving to sit at your desk.

"I'm here if you want to talk, but the couch is open to whomever wants a nap or to relax. No talking required." He nods, slightly more relaxed, and you focus on your computer. When you look up later, you see he has laid down and fallen asleep, his soft snores filling the room. After that, you send in another request and another for more couches and a couple of reclining chairs. You are denied. They tell you to just bring in folding chairs. You decide to use your paycheck and bring in something more comfortable than folding chairs.

The next week, you are struggling to get a reclining chair down the hall as silently as possible when you freeze, a chill running down your back. Turning, you see Ghost standing only a foot away, silently watching with his arms crossed.

"I got a new chair." Your bright smile seems to just bounce off his broad chest, but you pay no mind to him, turning back to the task at hand. You get a few feet further and glance back to say something witty, but Ghost is gone. Another few feet, and you are bodily lifted by a set of strong arms before Ghost and König pick up the chair and carry it to your office with no effort. You thank them and ask if they would be willing to help you with one more thing since they are here. Rolling their eyes, they follow you.

Proudly, you show them the three large boxes that you bought. The men are not amused. Their body language switches from annoyed to almost angry when you pick up one of the boxes. König nearly tears it from your hands, and Ghost swiftly grabs the second box. Holding up your hands, you wait until they storm inside to pick up the third box and follow them.

It takes most of the day for the stuffing in the giant floor pillows to fluff up from being vacuum packed in the boxes, so you take the time to rearrange the room. The next day, opening the door after lunch, you spot no less than ten men and one woman lounging in various spots around the room.

A few weeks later and Soap asks if you can requisition another chair because he is annoyed that Captain Price is constantly snoring away in the only one. You shake your head sadly.

"Sorry, bud. I can't get another one for a while. Too expensive." He nods but puzzles over your wording for the next few days before filing it in the back of his mind.

It takes another couple months for you to save up, but you do bring in a second chair. Soap nearly dances when he sees it.

"I tried to ask supply for one of these for my office, but they had no idea what I was talking about."

"Oh, they wouldn't. They deem my request too frivolous every time." You tap away at the computer, only half paying attention to Soap.

"Then, how did you convince them?"

"Didn't. Had to go get it myself." The silence that falls over the room is far more tense than usual.

"You, you bought these for us? Like with your own money?" You sigh. Here is the conversation you were hoping to avoid. Turning to Soap, you see every person in the room staring at you, trying to work out what is happening.

"Yes, of course. Nothing but the best for my patients. I am the psychiatrist for KorTac and 141, after all."

"What?! We just, we thought you were just an officer with a comfortable couch. But you're a god damn psychiatrist?!" You can see several edging toward the door, nervously.

"Yep. Ghost, please wait just a moment." He hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. "Think about how long you've been napping in here. Have I ever overstepped? Four years I have been assigned to the 141, and not once have I updated your files. Luckily, I can claim patient-doctor confidentiality, or I would be out of a job."

"So, you haven't been doing your job at all?" This comes from Captain Price, who looks confused.

"Oh, I have been. If you don't mind sharing, what is the thing your last psychiatrist kept trying to force you to do, Captain?"

"Fuckin golf. Claimed it would be a good stress relief like I want to be a lazy damn officer."

You nod and glance around. "Ghost, what was your recommendation?"

"God damn yoga." You hear Soap snort and give him a small smile.

"Mmhmm, not something I imagine you would ever be interested in. And you König, if you don't mind?"

His voice is quiet but strong, "Guided meditation."

"Every one of those is rooted in the idea that you need to rest. My job was to find a way to make it happen, and I wasn't keen on being stonewalled and hated by the people I work with. So, I left the door open and passed a rumor around that there was a mythical comfortable couch. Sort of a build it and they will come." You pause and gather your courage. "As I have said from the beginning, talking is optional. Naps and resting are welcome. That's the way it will stay as long as I am here."

Turning back to your computer, you submit another supply request, worded slightly different from the last. A bigger office for more group sessions so both teams can be present. The silence in the room is less tense, but you don't look up from your screen, not wanting to see how many left, knowing who you are now. To your surprise, when you stand up to stretch, every spot is still occupied.

The next week, you get your denial and an inspection scheduled as you haven't been logging apppointments since posted there, and your constant requests have been noticed. The stress shows in the tenseness of your jaw and the furrow between your eyes, but you don't say a word to anyone.

The day of your inspection comes, and you brace yourself for invasive questions and the likely anger from whomever shows up when you refuse to answer those questions. You hint three time and then outright tell the lounging men to leave just minutes before the scheduled appointment, frantically trying to tidy up and make it look like you have adults as patients instead of sleep away camp.

"What is goin' on, lass?" Soap asks lazily from the floor pillow he refuses to vacate.

"I- I have an inspection, like right now." That gets their attention.

"Och aye! We will clear ou-" A knock at the door interrupts him. You take a deep breath, forcing your emotions under a smile.

"Enter." A man confidently walks in, faltering when he sees so many eyes on him.

"I am here to inspect your work, Captain. You were informed as to the time?" Standing, you salute him, then motion him to one of the seats.

"Yes, my apologies, Lieutenant Colonel. This group session ran a little late. If you could excuse us, everyone. We can pick this back up tomorrow. Hopefully." They all stand and salute the Lieutenant Colonel before walking out. He stalks to the chair in front of your desk.

"You will be lucky to make it to the end of the day if I have anything to say about it. You have clearly squandered resources buying all of this furniture, and there isn't a single update to any personnel files. Your explanation better be damn good, Captain."

You meet his gaze squarely before answering. "I am assigned to a unit whose work is often above top secret. I do not take notes on what is said in this room. I have found that doing so makes patients uncomfortable and, therefore, less likely to relax."

"That doesn't explain why you are not charting recommendations." You lean back and pull out a paper from a drawer.

"These are the recommendations previously listed in the files of various patients who are now under my command. Almost all of them fall into the same category: relax. So when I reviewed the files, I notated in the general team file for The 141 that relaxing activities would be undertaken as needed. The KorTac file gained the same note when they were switched to my purvue. There is no need to update individual files when I do my utmost to only hold group sessions, again for comfort to the patients."

He sits back, clearly not convinced, but at least pondering it a moment. "Why did you have KorTac transferred to your care? They were previously under another, frankly more competent, psychiatrist."

"Was that psychiatrist able to get them to open up? Honestly, I am curious if the team even showed up to their sessions by how sparse their files are. Colonel König has been here for six years, and his entire file is less than a dozen pages. The same could be said for nearly all of the KorTac team. There are notations in most of these files that KorTac and The 141 can not be in the same room for more than five minutes at a time without fighting. Yet nearly every day members of both teams are here for upwards of an hour a day, and they haven't had any fights outside of here in months." You snap your jaw shut, noticing the slightest of movement behind the Lieutenant Colonel. You stand and salute.

"Corporal, you've already saluted me. Sit down."

"She is saluting me, not you, Lieutenant Colonel." Colonel König salutes you back as the Lieutenant Colonel grouses about being interrupted before he turns and pales. He hurriedly stands and renders his own salute, which is returned with deliberate slowness.

"Colonel, if I may?" At his nod, you continue. "I did not mean to speak so flippantly of your records. I should have guarded their contents more closely. You have my deepest apologies." His eyes lock with yours, and you could swear he is either smirking or smiling.

"It is of no consequence. I am glad to know that you feel such concern, despite the public nature that such personnel files often suffer during inquests such as these." He pulls up another chair from who knows where and sits just behind the Lieutenant Corporal. "I will monitor to ensure sensitive information about need to know operations is not disclosed."

You nod, "Yes, Colonel. Understood."

The Lieutenant Colonel shifts uncomfortably with the gaze at his back. "Circling back to my first concern. The wasting of British coffers on unnecessary seating is clear gross misconduct. You will need to return all except for the standard single couch immediately."

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. When can you send supply over to fetch the other couch?" He looks surprised, as though he expected more of a fight.

"I will have to confer with them to see when they will be able to take so many large items."

"Hmm? Oh no, only the two couches, desk, computer, and the chair you sit in were issued. The rest I brought in at my own expense to better facilitate having over a dozen soldiers and officers in here at the same time. I do ask to keep the original couch. It is the only one long enough to fit many of the men I treat." He looks shocked.

"You furnished the rest?" You can see him fighting not to look around at the room, hand fidgeting on the desk.

"Of course. Patients come first in my care. Every request I have put in has been denied since the second couch. The number of patients I see has more than doubled with the strays that Captain Price and Colonel König have dragged with them into my office. We are running out of time today. Would you like to meet again next week, or do you have the information needed to close out this inquiry?" The Lieutenant Colonel seems shocked.

"But I have more questions. And you need to answer them."

"I understand that, which is why I am offering another meeting. But you scheduled just one time block for this, and I have others coming in right after. The noise he made was pure frustration, and he let loose without thinking.

"Listen here you cunt! You will not get out of this by claiming an appointment. You will answer my questions until I am satisfied and have enough to properly fuck you over the way you deserve! I-!" A hand claps onto his shoulder, making him wince in pain.

"Lieutenant Colonel Riggs. That is not conduct becoming an officer. You will cease your screaming and see yourself out. Your lack of preparation and knowledge does not permit you to abuse officers of a lower rank. You will join me in my office while we discuss this further." The icy tone has you wincing in sympathy. When the door shuts behind them, you nearly collapse on your desk in relief. After a long moment of fighting the urge to cry, you jolt when a hand rubs your back.

"Ghost, why are you still in my office?"

"Support?" You grunt before looking up at him.

"Thank you. Now, I'm going to have a good cry, so if you need to leave to avoid it, now is a good time." Instead of leaving, he makes you stand and walk to the couch where he tugs you to his chest.

"Cry all you want, Luv. I'm here for you, just like you were for me all those times these past few years."

[reasonsforhope]

"The New York City Council voted to ban most uses of solitary confinement in city jails Wednesday [December 20, 2023], passing the measure with enough votes to override a veto from Mayor Eric Adams.

The measure would ban the use of solitary confinement beyond four hours and during certain emergencies. That four hour period would be for "de-escalation" in situations where a detainee has caused someone else physical harm or risks doing so. The resolution would also require the city's jails to allow every person detained to spend at least 14 hours outside of their cells each day.

The bill, which had 38 co-sponsors, was passed 39 to 7. It will now go to the mayor, who can sign the bill or veto it within 30 days. If Mayor Adams vetoes the bill, it will get sent back to the council, which can override the veto with a vote from two-thirds of the members. The 39 votes for the bill today make up 76% of the 51-member council. At a press conference ahead of the vote today [December 20, 2023], Council speaker Adrienne Adams indicated the council would seek [a veto] override if necessary.

For his part, Mayor Adams has signaled he is indeed considering vetoing the bill...

The United Nations has said solitary confinement can amount to torture, and multiple studies suggest its use can have serious consequences on a person's physical and mental health, including an increased risk of PTSD, dying by suicide, and having high blood pressure.

One 2019 study found people who had spent time in solitary confinement in prison were more likely to die in the first year after their release than people who had not spent time in solitary confinement. They were especially likely to die from suicide, homicide and opioid overdose.

Black and Hispanic men have been found to be overrepresented among those placed in solitary confinement – as have gay, lesbian and bisexual people.

The resolution in New York comes amid scrutiny over deaths in the jail complex on Rikers Island. Last month, the federal government joined efforts to wrest control of the facility from the mayor, and give it to an outside authority.

In August 2021, 25-year-old Brandon Rodriguez died while in solitary confinement at Rikers. He had been in pre-trial detention at the jail for less than a week. His mother, Tamara Carter, says his death was ruled a suicide and that he was in a mental health crisis at the time of his confinement.

"I know for Brandon, he should have been put in the infirmary. He should have been seeing a psychiatrist. He should have been being watched," she said.

She says the passage of the bill feels like a form of justice for her.

"Brandon wasn't nothing. He was my son. He was an uncle. A brother. A grandson. And he's very, very missed," she told NPR. "I couldn't save my son. But if I joined this fight, maybe I could save somebody else's son." ...

New York City is not the first U.S. city to limit the use of solitary confinement in its jails, though it is the largest. In 2021, voters in Pennsylvania's Allegheny County, which includes Pittsburgh, passed a measure to restrict solitary confinement except in cases of lockdowns and emergencies. The sheriff in Illinois' Cook County, which includes Chicago, has said the Cook County jail – one of the country's largest – has also stopped using solitary confinement...

Naila Awan, the interim co-director of policy at the New York Civil Liberties Union, says that New York making this change could have larger influence across the country.

"As folks look at what New York has done, other larger jails that are not quite the size of Rikers will be able to say, 'If New York City is able to do this, then we too can implement similar programs here, that it's within our capacity and capabilities," Awan says. "And to the extent that we are able to get this implemented and folks see the success, I think we could see a real shift in the way that individuals are treated behind bars.""

-via NPR, December 20, 2023

[genderqueerpositivity]

TW: medical/surgery talk and dysphoria

I am officially one step closer to my hysterectomy.

After nearly 10 months of effort, I have the support of my primary care doctor, my therapist, my psychiatrist, and the doctor who will be doing the procedure.

I've also gone through the pelvic exam and the transvaginal ultrasound that my doctor requires of patients seeking a hysterectomy; and to be absolutely clear, I would not have agreed to the ultrasound if it weren't a requirement for the surgery.

In spite of all of this, of course, there is still my health insurance company to convince of the necessity of the surgery. I should hopefully know more in the next week or two.

Every step of my medical transition has been blocked by some barrier at one time or another. I'm lucky to have even made it as far as I have.

This is why I want to laugh and cry when certain folks try to claim that it is too easy to medically transition. Every single step of my medical transition has been undertaken as an adult well over the age of 25, paid for with my own insurance or out of my own pocket, with the support of multiple mental health professionals along the way. And still, each step has been difficult.

I've been required to do everything from talk explicitly about my sexual experiences and physical dysphoria for my initial GID diagnosis to having a cold ultrasound wand poked and shoved around inside of my body until I bled. And still I have to do more, still it is not enough.

I want to be excited right now. And on some levels I am! I've been hoping for and looking forward to this for so long! But I am also so fucking tired, I've been so afraid all year of hitting some unnecessary roadblock and having to start this process over. And I am still so so so afraid, because I know now that this probably isn't going to get done before January 20th, and after that who knows if I'll be able to have it done at all.

Also, also? We do a massive fucking disservice to part of our community by not highlighting how difficult it is to medically transition as an AFAB person.

My hormone therapy is a controlled substance that I cannot legally stockpile in anticipation of gender affirming care bans. I was only able to begin hormone therapy in the first place because the requirement of an in person appointment for an initial prescription of a controlled substance was still waived in 2021 due to the pandemic, so I was able to see a telehealth provider. Only this year have I able to begin seeing a primary care doctor willing to take over managing my HRT.

My barriers to a hysterectomy exist both because the procedure is gender affirming care AND because of my sex assigned at birth. Having to repeatedly reassure everyone else involved in this process that I am certain that I do not want to ever experience pregnancy or childbirth is exhausting.

I think I'll be excited and extremely relieved when this is finally done. And then, then, I can finally start thinking about next steps, potentially top surgery...but that will be next, in whatever reality I find myself living in after January 20th.

It's ironically fitting that today is New Year's Eve; it's been a long year and all of this has been a long time in the works. I can only hope that I'll get to start next year off by finally getting this hysterectomy done.

[aquato-family-circus]

There's a lot of interesting and warrented discussion about how Raz plays psychiatrist to a bunch of older folks he really shouldnt need to be helping. Like it's sort of crazy for a kid his age to be handling all that responsiblity, especially for how well he does it too.

But like, I also think it's interesting to consider that MOST of the people in his life don't actually encourage this behavior directly, Raz is the disruptor of the status quo. Raz can NOT be stopped from doing this it's his enrichment. Augustus lets him leave at the end of the first game because he's narratively proven himself as a hero and psychonaut and I have thoughts about how he did that without talking to Donatella first. but I Like To Think he also trusted Sasha & Milla to look after them. In the way the story is framed I think that's fine. Augustus is a responsible parent he couldn't have known the plane would crash.

I wonder what the mission would've looked like if the plane hadn't crashed in the Rhombus. I imagine Sasha & Milla probably would've taken the lead on things while allowing Raz and Lili there because Raz proved he's capable and it's Lili's dad I don't think they could physically stop her from helping.

Meanwhile Ford and Gristol over here at the only ones who ever like directly encourage the behavior of getting directly involved and jumping into minds to fix problems.

Ford I'm not entirely mad at bc for his part he's physically unable to help in the first game, and in the second game he's running on a ticking clock. So I can give a little bit of grace for him relying on A Child to do everything.

But then Gristol is just a little pathetic man who was already trying to see if he could manipulate Lili before Raz came along and he was like oh this is even better, this kid doesn't know me/Truman well AND he worships the ground the Psychonauts walk on.

Like do you follow me do you understand my vibe. The Psychonauts are stil kinda wildin when it comes to child endangerment but it's a sliding scale where some are more responsible than others lol

I feel like Hollis and Truman are going to get the reports about Raz's Exciting First Week and look at each other like "oh ok. a mole in the psychonauts is maybe the first issue to address among many."

[littlemissmiller]

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑠

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐢𝐦

Pairing: drug dealer!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

Summary: (au) Your last summer before college and Coriolanus is still just as in love with you as the first time he saw you, but all of high school you’ve been taken. Meanwhile Coriolanus isn’t looking forward to college, but at least he can still make money dealing drugs. During the last week of school, he notices how fragile your relationship has become and something makes him think he still may have one last chance with you before the summer is over…

Warning: 21+ (mentions or drugs/ drug use) eventually smut, mentions of masturbation (m and f), mentions of oral (m and f receiving), jealously, slight obsession, possession, toxic relationship, slight stalking

Word count: 4k

A/N: hello all! my first series! soooo i’ve had this idea in mind for a while, but it felt like a summer write/read and i figured since a good amount of y’all are high school age or older this would appeal more and now that the school year is over i figured y’all have more time to read too. also i have another joel fic so that is coming soooon (closely followed by a billy fic) i’m so excited about this one like…i had so much fun writing it and i’m guesssing it’s gonna be like 12 chapters long…idk we shall see :) i hope you enjoy

Series Masterlist | Playlist

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

Coriolanus is ready for the summer. He’s so sick of school, even though he excels at it. He barely has to study and usually did his homework last minute and still got all A’s. His grandma had encouraged him to go to college next year, even though school didn’t quite interest him anymore. He thought about joining ROTC once he got to campus, but truthfully, why would he give up his little side deal for some army pricks and a “free” ride to college when business was about to be booming.

In his sophomore year, Coriolanus had taken up dealing drugs. Mainly he stuck to weed or psychedelics like mushrooms or acid, and occasionally ecstasy. He didn’t dare sell hard shit and he always made sure his stuff was clean. He had help. From time to time, his friend, Sejanus, would steal from his mother’s medicine cabinet. Xanax, Valium, whatever Mrs. Plinth’s psychiatrist would prescribe, he would manage to steal a few whenever his mother decided not to take her meds that day. It was a system that worked well for Coriolanus, and a system that he would need to maintain. Which is why he decided to go to college only about an hour away from his town. Being from a small, rural town in Illinois didn’t leave Coriolanus many options except the big public school close to the city. A booming college town, where Coriolanus knew he’d be able to expand his “customers” and still manage to keep up his means of getting the drugs he sold.

Luckily enough for him, Sejanus was attending the same college as Coriolanus. Which meant “visits back home” were opportunities for Coriolanus to stock up on his stash and sell. He would be able to tag along with a homesick Sejanus frequently, or at least that’s what Coriolanus predicts given how nostalgic he has seemed to become in the last couple of months. It’s Sejanus’s new favorite hobby. Recalling old memories and moments from the past. Some of which Coriolanus didn’t even realize how much those mundane moments Sejanus’s brain clinged to. How much he cared about their hometown and especially his family. Coriolanus didn’t understand. It wasn’t like he was going halfway across the country, unlike you.

You were bound for California, had big dreams of becoming a cancer researcher for a children’s hospital, and absolutely over the moon to be going to Stanford. Coriolanus wasn’t as thrilled. He had long desired you, wanted you as his own, but since the first week of freshman year you had been so out of his grasp. Too distracted by someone on the football or basketball team, and by your sophomore year you had gotten with one of those football players, Devon. Coriolanus still saw you around however. You and him had shared every AP science course since sophomore year and you considered Coriolanus to be a school friend. That was all. Yet, all of the science classes you and him had spent together left plenty of room for you to chat about Devon. And for some reason you felt safe to talk to him about whenever he would do something to upset you. But you never left him.

So, Coriolanus had watched you from afar, longing to have you all to himself. As high school went on, you only grew more and more beautiful and Coriolanus would often imagine you laying bare before him on his bed. When he was home, he couldn’t help but jerk himself off to the image of you with your hand on your wet core, playing with your clit in between your fingers. That’s all he could picture as he pumped his length in the shower most nights. One hand against the wall the other stroking himself as he pictures you begging for him to fuck you. Your soft pleas tumbling from your beautiful lips like a prayer.

Why couldn’t he have you? Why did some himbo athlete have to have you when Coriolanus was clearly superior to him. He didn’t blame you though. Devon was popular, which made you popular by default and after being in a relationship for so long, he knew it wasn’t easy to just leave someone like that. If anything he blamed himself for not getting to you first. For not asking you out when he had the chance.

Not thinking you’d be interested, the one time Coriolanus had gotten an opportunity to ask you out was freshman year. It was after biology class right before winter break and Coriolanus wanted to take you to a movie. You were his lab partner that day and it’s all that was on his mind. When just the right moment arose, he first asked if you wanted to meet later that night to finish the lab so they would have less homework over break, but mainly to see if you were free to hang out. Coriolanus was quickly let down when you informed him that you would’ve liked to, but your family was going out of town to visit your grandparents for the holidays.

“I’ll just have to finish it when I get back from break.” You had sighed

And that was the only real time he’d had talked to you still single. What a pity given it was the last week of school now. Exams were nearly over and Coriolanus had told himself to give up on you, but he couldn’t seem to let you go. Even though it was the last week, and graduation was this weekend, he still desired you deeply. More than the day he met you. Coriolanus watched you in AP Literature as the class went over the study guide. You twirled your hair, bored and just as ready for the relaxing summer break as he was. He tried not to gawk, but he couldn’t help it. You looked so god damn precious today. Your green plaid skirt just barely followed the dress code and your white shirt was ruffled around the edges and fit your body nicely. Your black converse high tops dangled above the floor. All he wanted to do was take you into a bathroom stall, bend you over, bunch up your skirt and admire your ass. He bet it was soft and round. He imagined a pair of cotton, white panties under it all, soaked. His cock started to harden in his jeans, so Coriolanus moved in his seat to hide his stirring erection.

The bell rings about ten minutes later and thankfully he’s settled down enough to where his bulge isn’t quite so obvious. He snatches up his book bag and looks up. As the last few students file out, you are asking the teacher a few questions. Coriolanus gets up and heads for the door. As he passed you, you finish your conversation and quickly move to catch up to him.

“Hey!” You shouted

Coriolanus paused at the door, turning his head to look at you

“I know it’s exam week and you are busy, but this physics lab is going to be the death of me.”

Coriolanus couldn’t believe it. Were you about to ask for his help outside of class? You had always been going to him for help with your science classes. Even though you had managed to score higher than him on every exam in science, for some reason physics was killing you. So all semester, you had been asking Coriolanus for help during class, but only during class. You never asked to finish your work with him after school.

“Are you asking for my help?” He smiles

Personally, you don’t want to take away from his time since Coriolanus seemed like the type of man that valued his free time and didn’t like to bother with school outside of school. In addition, his mysterious, stern demeanor was intimidating and you didn’t know if you were bothering him while he was trying to make money. You knew he dealt drugs and frankly, the idea of that scared you too, so much as you need his help and your science classes and in all honesty, you were just afraid to ask him for anything at all.

But Coriolanus always assumed it was because of how protective Devon was. Which was also true. He didn’t like you talking to other guys outside of class, and he was particularly wary of Coriolanus. It was no secret that he was handsome. Coriolanus had built his own reputation as someone who slept around. And as much of a neanderthal as Devon was, he damn well knew that Coriolanus looked at you like you’re his prey.

“Yes” you sighed

“I don’t mind.”

“Really”

“Not at all. I’m free tonight.”

“Thank you so much. You have no idea, I’d seriously be lost without you.”

“Of course!” He chirped

“I appreciate it. Wanna meet up at Panera after school?”

“Sounds good.”

You smiled, waved and walked off

Fuckfuckfuck you said “lost without him.” That felt so personal. And your sweet smile. Why are you so perfect. Your hips sway as you walk away and Coriolanus’s cock starts to get hard again, until he see’s something that makes him want to repulse. Your boyfriend approached you from the other end of the hall. Devon came up to you,hugged you and groped your ass. What an obnoxious ass, can’t he tell you don’t like that kind of attention in school. He gave you a sleazy smile and Coriolanus turned his attention away.

After school, he headed to Panera as instructed and waited for you. You pulled up, your boyfriend dropping you off in his 2016 White Mercedes C-Class. You walk inside and find him sitting in the back.

“Hey. I’m going to order food. Did you get something?” You asked

“Nah I’m not all that hungry.”

“Okay!” You smile and walk to the counter to order.

You came back quickly, sat beside Coriolanus, putting your book bag between them. You pulled out you physics textbook, laptop and the lab. As you explained why you were confused, Coriolanus explained the material to you, but was so tempted again. So tempted by the way your knee peaked at him and when you crossed your legs, letting more of your thigh show, he nearly fell apart. He hated how desperate he was for you. How badly he wanted you. He’d do anything just to hear you instruct him to get on his knees and bury his face in between your thighs.

When your food came, he refocused his attention on your homework. Why couldn’t he control himself? Why was he so drawn to your temptations today? You always looked so beautiful, but Coriolanus felt feral.

“Ugh what am I going to do next year without you in my science classes!” You sighed

There you go again. Making everything sound personal and intimate. Clever as always, Coriolanus replied.

“Well good thing you have my number right?”

“Yeah, but we won’t be in the same class and I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother” he follows up quickly

“You’re always so sweet. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime…” he smiles

Your phone buzzed, it’s Devon. You pick up and he seems annoyed. You tried to calm him down but somehow he figured out that you’re here studying with Coriolanus.

“You’re being ridiculous ok. Let’s just talk when we get back to my house…busy…with what?” You speak in a harsh whisper. “Ok whatever… just come back and drop me back home. Ok please?”

Coriolanus acted like he didn’t notice, but he watched in agony as tears welled up in your eyes. You took a deep breath, close your eyes, and swallowed your sadness along with the last sip of your Cola. Even though he should mind his own business, he couldn’t contain himself. He had to ask if you were ok. Besides, it's not like you don’t already confide in him during class anyways.

“It’s ok. I’ll be good.” You said, your lip quivering

You excuse yourself to refill your drink and Coriolanus packs up his things.

What a fucking insecure dick.

Coriolanus knew that you’re not the type to cheat. If anything Devon would cheat on you in a second. As protective as he was of you, he seemed to have a different set of rules for himself. Coriolanus saw Devon at parties, how’d he flirt with other girls when you weren’t around, or check out the cheerleaders at games. Yet you couldn’t have any real guy friends, and he truly couldn’t stand Coriolanus.

“You sure? I could give you a ride home since he seems…”

“No it’s fine…he’ll be here soon anyways. I appreciate your help.”

Your lip quivers slightly and you hide your face as you pretend to yawn. It’s something you’ve learned to help you to hide your tears and prevent you from falling apart into a big mess. But Coriolanus saw right through it because he had seen it before. He wanted to hold you, tell you to dump Devon and be with him instead. He would kiss you, to show you just how serious he was. He imagined delicately stroking your chin with his thumb and forefinger, guiding your face to his and kissing you deeply. He would be slow, tender, his lips simply ghosting over your own. He would still hold you daintily, his breath fanning over your face as he told you how much he loves you.

You look outside, turning away from Coriolanus, stifling your cries as a single tear rolls down your cheek. Coriolanus can’t help it; he has to say something.

“You know if you ever need someone to talk to I don’t mind. Sometimes it’s easier to tell someone you’re not as close with. Because then it’s like you’re speaking into a void and it doesn’t really matter what you say. But at least you got it off your chest.”

You pause for a moment and look back at him. You contemplate the offer and as much as you want to just talk his ear off about all the ways in which your boyfriend sucks, you’re afraid that he’ll just be more upset with you, thinking somehow he’ll find out.

“It’s ok. I’ll just vent to my mom when I get home.”

“You sure?” He asks, trying to hide his desperation

You reach out and touch his forearm gently. Your affections burn on his skin, your fingertips branding him.

“I’m sure. Thanks anyways.”

You release him, giving him a small smile. You feel like you should apologize and he simply smirks in approval, his eyes following your hand as it leaves him. Then your phone buzzes again. It lights up with a text from Devon and Coriolanus glances outside at the parking lot. He sees your boyfriend pull up, park, and exit his vehicle. For a moment he thinks your boyfriend is about to walk in, but he simply pouts against the car like a grumpy toddler.

“Good luck with your other exams. I know you’ll do fine.”

You walk off, quickly gather your things and walk out the door. He watches you leave and his eyes peer out the window. You trot along to Devon’s car innocently, scared like a newborn deer. He stares at you hawkishly, arms crossed. He shoves his body back into the car once you make it onto the other side, starting it up and you disappear behind the door as it closes. Coriolanus hangs his head in frustration and sighs. You didn’t deserve him.

You belong with him. You belong with Coriolanus.

He felt a tinge of unease thinking about it, not wanting to become as possessive and obsessive as Devon, but he really meant it. He felt he would know how to treat you like a queen. Give you lots of nice things or if you needed cash to buy something you wanted, he’d give it to you. Sell more weed and Xanax to get you whatever you want. But if he could have you, hold you, treat you right, and tell you how much he loves you, he felt like you would want it just as much as he did.

When he gets home, Coriolanus heads up to his room. His cousin and grandma were out shopping for their dresses to wear to his graduation. Coriolanus had picked out a nice pair of black slacks, and a white button up. He wasn’t one for ties normally, and given the heat, he didn’t want to feel too constrained. It was hanging up in his closet, facing him as he enters his room, along with his cap and gown. He sits down at his desk, placing his book bag down and getting his laptop out. He decides to check his grades one last time even though he already knows what it will say. He logs on to his school's website.

Coriolanus C. Snow

Student ID: 1008452024

Current Standing: Senior (Academic Honors)

Current GPA: 4.0

Accumulative GPA: 4.3

Spring Semester 2024

AP Physics A

AP Literature A

European History A

AP Calculus A

Political Science A

Latin Studies A

The corners of his mouth slid up into a half smile. He was of course not upset with himself, but knew that school was the only thing he was really good at, but completely hated. He was still going to go to college, just to get a degree of anything and why would he miss out on the opportunity to sell to his target market. Even though he hated school, and was dragging his feet to go to college, Coriolanus had bigger ambitions. He thought that even if it meant four more years of school and lectures, getting a degree might lead him towards a better career. Coriolanus often heard of people getting into politics and getting intern jobs working for Senators and Representatives. It was truly the only thing that appealed to him. Even though he excelled in nearly every course, politics and civics seemed to have taken over his attention more than his other subjects. And his teachers noted how he seemed to have more interest in those classes versus science or math. So he thought that maybe college could offer an opportunity for him to get him to a place of power, which not even he realizes how much he desires that kind of control.

Then his phone vibrates, taking him off guard and away from his thoughts. It’s you. He immediately picks it up. He can sense your emotions through the phone and the immediate sniffle you give him, confirms his suspicions.

“Hey what’s up?”

“Oh I just had a quick question on this lab I realized I left the last question blank. Do you think we could FaceTime real quick?” You ask tentatively

“Sure.”

You transfer the call to FaceTime him and he picks up. He put the phone against the wall and your beautiful face appears. It’s slightly blurry because of the connection, but Coriolanus can still make out your beautiful features although they are covered by your clearly upset face. You had been crying, hard, your eyes slightly red and puffy.

“So what’s up” Coriolanus continues quickly

“Yeah so it's talking about how I’m supposed to connect my parts of the equation to the students equation in the problem but also explain the reasoning for why part b) works with part a) and show mathematical reasoning.”

Coriolanus smiles and begins to break down the problem in the lab and you start to frantically scribble down on your page, occasionally glancing up showing that you understand and are following along. All the while, he’s just as focused on your beautiful, round eyes, as they concentrate on his words. He tries desperately not to picture those same pretty eyes looking up at him, you on your knees, naked and sucking his cock. He knows that your eyes would look just as attractive and engaged by him. He shakes his head to refocus, but he’s hard under his desk. Luckily it’s just a video call, because his bulge is ever so apparent. Once Coriolanus finishes explaining it, you smile and sigh in relief.

“That makes sense. Thanks Coriolanus…”

“See, next semester I can still help you like this, you know.”

“I guess you’re right” you smile back “is that your bed?” You ask, pointing behind him.

“Yeah.” He confirms, turning around to look at it.

“I like the comforter. Your room looks cool by the way” you follow up

His bed sheets are navy blue plaid with red and white stripes in a grid style pattern. He looks around his room and admires his decor. Coriolanus occupies a room on the top floor. It wasn’t quite cramped like an attic, but it was close to the roof. It was cozy, with a slanted wall. The back wall was uncovered brick, with a wood ceiling. Coriolanus had put a few of his favorite band posters up as well as some vinyl covers. He tried to keep things simple with his bed against one wall and his desk against the other. He had a laptop that sat on his desk and a TV that screwed onto the wall above his desk, which he easily fit his PS4 under.

“Maybe you should come see it in person sometime” he suggests, not realizing what he has said.

When he does, he mentally kicks himself for being so forward, and your eyes dart down to the ground in your own room.

You stupid ass.

As he curses himself, you glance back up with a smile

“Hopefully I can see it at your graduation party. Assuming you're having one?” You follow up

“Possibly. I wasn’t sure, but my family wants to throw me one. What about you?” He asks

“Oh yeah I’m sending invitations out to the whole grade. We are having it at our country club, me and Devon. It's kinda a combination party I guess.” You explain

“Oh fun”

“It’s gonna be at the end of June so when you get the invite, let me know. You can text me and I’ll tell my dad.”

“Yeah sure. Well I won’t keep ya any longer.” Coriolanus nods, his lips sporting the most charming smile and you match his expression.

“Ok well, if I don’t see you much at school then I’ll see you this weekend at graduation?” You imply, unsure if he would even bother going since he almost never attended non-mandatory school events.

“Yeah, I’ll see you there for sure”

“Hey just real quick, earlier today with Devon, it’s just he gets a bad temper and makes assumptions”

Coriolanus nods, not wanting to scare you off, but he’s invested in having you tell him what more upsets you.

“I’m sorry, that sounds frustrating.”

“Well I guess you’ve always been there to listen so I just wanna say thanks for all these times. You know it’s funny though we get into these fights and I talk to you and feel better then he goes back to normal, well at least for a while then he gets back into his ways, so I’m just hoping he’ll mature more in college. Stop acting like a toddler sometimes” you smirk

Oh you poor thing, you don’t even realize how bad he truly is. You don’t even realize you're stuck in his toxic cycle. Coriolanus wishes he could swoop in and take you away. Treat you better. Coriolanus gives you a sympathetic smile and continues to show he’s listening to you. After a few silent moments, you say goodbye and hang up. Coriolanus feels like he can breathe again. You overwhelm him to a degree he didn’t even think was possible. Which he feels it between his legs, his cock is still rock hard.

Fuck you get him so worked up it’s unbelievable. He knows he’ll have to handle his member in the shower before dinner, but for now he smiles to himself. Coriolanus leans his chair back, mouth agape as he sighs at the ceiling. Maybe he could have a chance with you after all. He doesn’t want to get too hopeful, but something tells him he might just be able to get his chance with you before the summer ends.

꧁🝮❤︎︎🝮꧂

Next Chapter

[gothsoyl]

┊┊┊⁺ ⁺ DECEMBER CHALLENGE

"A treatment" +18

lenny busker x reader

word count: 1,3k

summary: you're in a mental hospital because of your anxiety and panic attacks. she's your... you don't know how to call her. maybe she's your buddy here since she was the first who offered you some kind of comfort. she lets you take her dessert and listen to music in her headphones.

to be honest, you didn't see any point in going to a psychiatric hospital. you were just a little anxious... just a couple of panic attacks a month. that's not a cause for concern, is it? for a while, you really thought that's what most people face.

it wasn't until things got worse that you finally listened to your psychiatrist's persuasions. he said it would be better this way. he said they'd help you there. and you agreed.

but did you have any other choice? your anxiety didn't really allow you to work, and you were afraid to go outside for fear of another panic attack. not to mention that you were also afraid to be at home, because if you had a panic attack, you would be left alone.

everything was strange in the psychiatric hospital – there were strange people here, even those who were treated here laughed at. and you felt sorry for them, even though you couldn't help them.

one of the first days, you were sitting in the cafeteria for lunch. a man in a wheelchair is sitting in front of you, viscous saliva is flowing from his mouth, and no matter how disgusting this sight might be, you couldn't bring yourself to tear your eyes away and start eating.

and, let’s just say, you didn't have much appetite after that.

“oh my God.”

you flinch when you suddenly hear a woman's voice next to you. you didn't even notice how she sat next to you.

“what do you think he ate that makes his saliva so viscous?”

you swallow nervously and look first at the man and then at the woman next to you. she's tapping out a strange rhythm with her fingers on the cassette player and looking at you with a strange twinkle in her eyes, and everything inside you is sinking with panic.

and what should you tell her? you don't want to seem weird or anything... but is it weird at all to try to look normal in a psychiatric hospital? 

“I don't know...” you finally shrug and look at the cherry pie on the table. for some reason, you feel strangely embarrassed next to her, and the man opposite has long since left your thoughts.

“are you going to finish eating, or should I continue talking about his saliva?” the girl puts her hand on the table and supports her cheek with it, looking at you at the same time so attentively and so indifferently.

you're about to nod, but you glance at her headphones and cassette player.

“if you let me listen to music,” a slight smile touches your lips and the girl opposite laughs loudly and pretentiously, and you already think that you have said too much. but the she finally calms down and takes off her headphones, putting them on the table along with the player. you chuckle and slide her a plate with a piece of pie, concluding your agreement.

***

lenny busker.

you learned her name after a couple of weeks of your communication. for some reason, every time you asked what her name was, she changed the subject, or told you to call her whatever you wanted. 

It pissed you off, but you didn't really argue. you loved her company after all.

she was funny and constantly calmed you down when you had a panic attack – she just sat next to you and when you felt a little better, she gave you her headphones and turned on some old song that you hadn't heard in a hundred years.

you felt better with her. It's like everything was really okay with you, even if you're both not quite “normal.”

***

one night you woke up to the creaking of your own bed. you immediately tensed up, feeling a sudden wave of anxiety, and tried to get up to see what was going on, but immediately felt someone's hand on your shoulder and a quiet, familiar whisper, “shh... it's just me.”

you immediately freeze, not knowing what to do or how to behave.

“what are you doing here?” you ask quietly as she did and want to look at her, but she squeezes your shoulder harder, not allowing you to turn around. your throat gets dry and you don't even know what's going on. so many bad thoughts fill your head, but you try to get rid of them, telling yourself that lenny would never hurt you.

you lick your lower lip when her free hand wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to her. her hot body is pressed against your back and she leans so close that you can feel her breath on your skin.

“I just decided to check if you were okay,” her voice is saturated with playfulness and she gently bites your earlobe, making you shudder unconsciously. 

“I'm fine,” you say, and your whole face starts to burn red with shame and excitement. you're not entirely sure that your psychiatrist was talking about it when he sent you to a mental institution.

“I see,” lenny hums, and her lips slowly slide over your neck, leaving wet kisses, “just relax and we'll start the treatment.”

you can feel your body slowly starting to relax under lenny's gentle and assertive touches, even if your brain is still sounding the alarm. you're used to it – your brain is always on alert and afraid of everything, even if it's something minor or something you've done a hundred times before. It pisses you off. you're tired, so you don't resist.

you'd be lying if you said you'd never thought about what it would be like to kiss lenny. you're lying if you say you don't want her at a time when you can literally feel her heartbeat.

you close your eyes and try to push away the annoying thoughts. a sigh escapes your lips when lenny's fingers get under your t-shirt, scratching the delicate skin with her nails and squeezing your breast until it aches pleasantly. her lips are still exploring your neck, leaving barely noticeable hickeys and biting in some places only to run her tongue later.

your body shudders as she slowly pulls off your panties and the cool air touches your bare skin. lenny just grunts and nuzzles your hair at the back of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“I could do this for days on end...”

she laughs low, her fingers moving between your folds, collecting all the moisture, and you just bite your lip, trying not to moan at her every touch. you'd like to answer her, but you're afraid it might be louder than you planned. and the last thing you want is for the paramedics to come running at the noise and find you like this.

“come on...” you squeeze out such weak words, but it's enough for lenny, who slowly begins to insert her fingers into you, teasing and not letting you fully feel her. you move your hips, trying to speed up the process, but she doesn't let you – she presses you to the bed with her free hand and continues to tease. her movements are slow and measured, and you're one second away from begging her. 

“please, lenny...” you whimper, burying your face in the pillow, your own fingers grab the blanket out of desperation, and only then do you begin to feel the brutal thrusts. lenny whispers something in your ear, but you can't make out what it is.

you feel too good at this moment and you don't have a single thought in your head. just lenny's fingers, stretching you from the inside out, forcing you to grab the pillow with your teeth just to keep from moaning.

the bed starts to creak even more, and you move your hips towards it, before your walls contract for the last time, hugging lenny's fingers and your body begins to tremble from orgasm. you're breathing fast and hard, and your legs are still shaking from everything that happened, even after lenny pulls his fingers out of you with a wet sound.

she doesn't press you to the bed anymore, but even so, you can't turn to her – the treatment went so well that you no longer have the strength.

only for the second session.

[sysmedsaresexist]

Hello. I know I've sent in messages before but very very rarely. But recent events have caused us to have a question. Just this week, we got officially diagnosed with D.I.D and recommended the idea of getting a psychologist for the first time in my life, besides a psychiatrist. Two of my alts say they can't be serious but the other three think they are bout the psychologist and we are nervous. I saw you talking about disorganized attachment in your latest posts and was wondering if you could tell me more bout what that is because it sounds like I may have experienced that and I'm trying to understand myself and us more from others with experience with D.I.D and similar disorders. We hope that makes sense! We are still very new to all of this. Thank you so much for your time. - Us

First, congrats!!! Try to come back and tell us what therapy and the interviews are like! I'm certain my followers would love to hear about it. It's scary, I'm so proud of you ❤️

Disorganized attachment is both very complicated, and quite easy to understand. I just reblogged a couple old posts about it, but this will be shorter :)

This is my favorite image to describe it!

Note that disorganized attachment (DA, from here on) is linked to low trust in self AND others. All of these types of attachment have shown strong links to different types of disorders, but DA is most associated with dissociative disorders.

The most important thing I've learned is

Even well-meaning, well-intentioned, loving parents can cause DA

DA can be hidden trauma, its relation to neglect is much stronger than originally thought, and neglect is a lot harder to spot and understand than straight up abuse.

A quick note here: DO NOT play trauma Olympics-- with yourselves, with others, on this post, nothing. Trauma is a personal reaction to events, abuse, or neglect and can occur in response to literally anything. When it comes to CDDs, we're looking at cumulative responses resulting in psychopathology, and you don't get to decide what was enough for other people.

It's their reactions.

Mind your own business.

So, all that said, DA is about the child being both fearful and reliant on caregivers. They want to both flee to and flee from caregivers. When a caregiver is unpredictable, the child has a difficult time establishing a consistent view of the caregiver, and of themselves. In other words, the caregiver is both needed, and someone to be avoided, and the child may not understand what makes them a “good” or “bad” child, as the caregiver’s behavior is often confusing and unpredictable.

I'm going to throw out a couple examples here:

Parent A has yelled at you, and you're scared to go to parent B and talk about it - neither parent feels safe but they're your only source of comfort

You're hungry, but parents scold you for eating too much - you're both scared to ask for your needs and yet reliant on their abilities to meet them

Sometimes parent is attentive and kind, and sometimes very dismissive - you never know what you're going to get, but when they're dismissive, it kills your drive for things you thought you enjoyed - sometimes parent puts your art on the fridge and sometimes they throw it in the trash, and maybe that particular piece was important and you'd expected better reception

Parent gets physical when they drink but at school, parent is a model citizen and teachers and other students always tell you how lucky you are

Parents are openly homophobic and you think you might be a little gay - they're good people otherwise (you think), and maybe if you just keep that part of you down...

Parent struggles with their own mental illness and you never know what kind of reaction they'll have, but you treasure the good memories and hold out hope you'll see that side of them again, despite the many letdowns

Parent doesn't let you keep anything to yourself, it's to the point you want to avoid them as much possible, only seeing them for meals

Parent is... mean. Just flat out mean, and they'll tell you no one will listen to you. There's no point is trying to find help with other caregivers-- teachers, babysitters, friends. It's just you and them, against the world.

The start of DA is typically formed in infancy when a parent doesn't respond properly to their child. Missed feedings, not enough skin time, mixing "cry it out" with giving in, ignoring cries for food or changing. These first attachments in infancy set the tone for all your attachments going forward. Meeting needs and milestones help the brain develop in a healthy way. If some of these milestones are missed or slowed, you tend to see psychopathology of some kind as a result. Various future relationships are likely to be affected, and more often than not, you respond to your own children the same way-- a type of intergenerational trauma.

And this is only the grey areas. We haven't touched full and proper abuse and how that can affect someone.

The result of DA is that a child will try to push memories and feelings about their caregivers down so that they're not bothered-- they can interact with their caregiver, whatever mood they're in or whatever happened yesterday.

If you just kill your feelings, parent's outbursts don't hurt as much. If you just don't think about what they did to you, you can put on a smile and get through dinner.

This is, in and of itself, dissociation. A rejection of feelings or memories. DA on its own isn't very likely to cause a CDD, but with additional trauma, it's... oof.

Children with DA and suffering from abuse “are likely to generate two or more dissociated self states, with contradictory working models of attachment,” in order to handle their confusing relationship with the caregiver. This can go in several directions, not necessarily a CDD, but it becomes much more likely.

So, the child needs to maintain a relationship with the caregiver– they have no one else to turn to, so the child can develop dissociation as a way to make sense of themselves, and to maintain a child-caregiver relationship. They may “forget” the abuse, or deny it. “It is an adaptive and defensive strategy that enables the child to function within the relationship, but it often leads to the development of a fragmented sense of self.” This fragmented sense of self may or may not develop into something worse– namely, BPD and DID based on severity, frequency, and whether there was any sense of reprieve (i.e. a child can avoid the worst of dissociative symptoms if one of their parents was more supportive, because it helps them build some positive attachments).

I really hope this helps!

Good luck, come back soon!