#but food is LIFE and if all you eat is TRASH guess how the fuck youre gonna feel all the time

[supersoftly]

Everytime I suggest diet might be your problem, I always lose a follower. Some of you are destined to be your own worst enemy.

[allurilove]

Celebrating the fourth of July with Henry and yandere husband. Also happy 4th of julyyyyy 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

I'm celebrating by eating a lot of hotdogs! I haven't had them in so long, and I sort of forgot how good they could be.

Your husband grunted as you handed him the aluminum pan, heavy with copious amounts of tiny hamburger sliders you made for the neighborhood party. You made sure that you looked nice and that Henry was presentable too. Your husband wasn't the celebrating type, and he was confused when you handed him a shirt with an American flag printed on the front. He shook his head, refusing to even touch or wear it. It just felt wrong to be overly patriotic like that.

Your husband still wanted to "blend" into the crowd, so he opted to slick his hair back and wear a hat backward, a dark blue t-shirt with a fun graphic on the breast pocket, jean cargo shorts, and his black Sambas. From afar, he looked like a college student—in better words, he looked like the typical frat boy. You were surprised he even had clothes like that.

You held Henry's hand as you walked to your neighbor's backyard. You pushed the gate open for your husband and guided him to the table where the food was. "Now that looks good..." You took a banana pudding cup for you and your son. Your husband huffed and finally put down the heavy tray. He took off the top and tossed it into the trash. He looked around to see the other people who decided to show up, and he gulped as he saw his number one rival... the Skylar family.

Fuck, were they the perfect family.

They could model for Gap or Old Navy with how amazing they looked together. Like the good man he was, your husband approached Lucas Skylar. Lucas was sort of an odd man (your husband thought), and he was a sex therapist who mainly worked with those horrible reality TV couples. You know the ones: people who came onto a show for clout and fame, really only looking to win money and cheat into having an easy life. The ones who pair up with other people who matched their physical aesthetics. It was sort of genius, and your husband slowly started to wish he was in that profession.

"Lucas! It's so great to see you." Your husband opened his arms and pulled him into a "bro" hug. Lucas equally threw himself into the hug. Of course, he was an amazing greeter.

"How are you and your wife? I can see that you guys got down and dirty, huh?" Lucas smirked and nudged your husband. You were about six months pregnant with another child—a girl, as you two had found out. "If you two ever get into a rut, you know where to find me."

Your husband would rather die. This wasn't the first time Lucas Skylar offered his services, and your husband was starting to form an idea in his head that Lucas just wanted to fuck you. I mean, he stares at you way too often. His green eyes would linger on your form, even if he was standing by his wife. Maybe your husband should take up the offer and start boasting about how you two had this amazing sexual chemistry.

"Yeah. Thanks." Your husband laughed humorlessly and slapped Lucas's shoulder a bit too roughly, brushing past him. The pissed-off man went straight for the beers. He spent the rest of the night sulking in the corner, nursing his drink, and watching Henry run around the backyard with lit sparklers in his hands.

"Hey." The man cleared his throat and pushed his body off the fence, his expression softening as you came up to him. You handed him some food and he accepted it gratefully.

"Let me guess..."

"You don't even have to." Your husband groaned and his shoulders tensed up. He rolled his eyes and looked right back down at you. "That prick wants to meddle into our sex life again."

"Why don't you tell him that it's great and he needs to back off?" You shrugged nonchalantly and your husband sighed.

"I... I didn't want to embarrass you like that. Plus, I don't want to create any bad blood between us and them. We still have to live near them after all." Your husbands expression soured. He crushed the empty beer can before making a shot into the trash bag. He then took your hands into his and he pulled you into his embrace.

...

Your husband wanted to make it up to you for pouting all day, and he took the family out to a secluded and open area. He opened the trunk of the car, and he pulled out a box of fireworks. After he was done scolding Henry for not listening to his little safety seminar, he finally lit one and took a step back. The firework shot up into the sky and burst into red and blue colors.

He subtly reached for his phone and took a picture of you and Henry both looking at the sky. Your husband would talk to thousands of guys like Lucas Skylar if this was the end result. His heart warmed at the sight of his two, and soon to be three, favorite people holding hands.

[leossmoonn]

five nights with mike (2) | mike schmidt

read part one

summary - a romance develops between you and mike at freddy’s

warnings / includes - reader is fem. established feelings. natural time skips. very loosely follows the plot of the movie but i didn’t want to watch it again for this lol. eventual smut - piv, oral f receiving, brief handjob

————

18+ under the cut

“thank you so much for picking me up. you might have to tomorrow, too.”

mike glances at you, giving you a small smile. “it’s no problem.”

you buckle yourself in and set your purse between your legs on the ground. “how is abby?”

“great. she asks about you all the time,” mike chuckles. “oh,” you sigh, putting your hand on your chest. “she’s adorable. maybe sometime we can eat lunch or something together.”

his heart spikes and he nods enthusiastically. “that-that would be awesome. yeah and, uh, i can pay this time. i can even make it, too.”

“mike schmidt cooks, huh?” you grin at him. “i only know how to make a few things, but i like cooking in general. just give me a recipe and i’ll try my best,” he says.

“mmm. well, i love a man who can cook,” you remark, looking out the window. heat creeps up mike’s neck and reaches his ears. “just let me know what kind of food you like, and i’ll make it. i’m not a trained chef or anything, though, so if it’s bad then i don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

“i bet you’re better than me. i personally like baking better,” you say.

“baking is cool, but it takes too long and i’m an impatient person.”

“well, how about you cook and i’ll bring the dessert.”

“oh, you don’t have to do that,” mike shakes his head. “you’re already so busy with work.”

“it’s no trouble. i’ve stated to get later shifts at my day job. it means i work later, but more time to sleep and some more time reserved for things like baking.”

“that’s great to hear. do you feel like you sleep better now?”

“no,” you snort. “if anything, i feel worse, but that’s just my brain. i can tell my body appreciates it.”

mike hums in response. “tonight you can sleep the majority of the shift if you’d like.”

“and leave you all alone? no. after what happened to abby, i’m kind of scared to sleep there.”

mike rolls his bottom lip in between his teeth. “don’t let abby scare you. she has lots of imaginary friends even before i took her there, which won’t be happening again.”

“right,” you sigh. “it’s just that i swore i heard other voices. like a man’s voice.”

mike feels the hairs raise up on his arms even under his jacket. “maybe tonight we can scope it out.”

“sure. hopefully we don’t die. imagine those fur things coming to life and murdering us,” you shiver in thought.

mike chuckles, “that would be wild.”

mike parks his car at the pizzeria. you grab your purse and lead the way in. as you step inside, there’s a cracking sound. you look under your shoe, seeing a bunch of glass on the floor.

“holy shit,” you gasp. you look at the diner, seeing it totally trashed.

“fuck, um. yeah, steve mentioned this to me earlier. i-i must’ve forgot,” mike says sheepishly. he really did forget. he must’ve been so clouded by his excitement to see you, he scraped his conversation with steve completely.

“it’s okay. it’s not like you warning me would’ve changed what happened.” you can’t believe your eyes. it seems like every table in the diner is flipped over or broken. glass litters the floor and you’re thankful you chose to wear sneakers tonight and not slippers like you have been. “what did happen?” you turn to mike.

“i guess a bunch of people came in here after we left and trashed it. i’m not sure why. i swore we locked all the doors.”

“yeah, i thought we did, too. we wanted to get abby out of here fast, though, so we could’ve missed something.”

“yeah, that’s what i was thinking, too,” mike sighs. “i guess you really won’t be getting any rest tonight.”

“it’s alright,” you shrug. “i just don’t know if we’ll be able to get the diner back to its original state.”

“it’s not like anybody but us comes here,” mike jokes. you smile and nod, “right.” you set your purse down on one of the booth tables that isn’t destroyed. “let’s get to it.”

mike and you spend most of the night cleaning. you were shocked to find even more mess in the hallway and kitchen areas. everything was going smoothly until you find what you think is blood splattered all over the storage room window.

“mike?” you call out. there’s no answer and a pang of worry hits your chest. “mike?” you shout louder.

“coming!” you hear him. fast footsteps echo in the hallway and you can’t help but feel creeped out. you always thought this place was weird and dinky. you only accepted the job because you found out another person was working, and while you feel very save with mike, you just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something seriously wrong with this place.

“what’s up?” mike asks. you point to the window and his eyes widen. “oh,” he says. “um, maybe that’s the blood of the person destroying the place?”

“maybe. but it’s from the inside.”

“yeah,” mike gulps. “we can tell steve about it or something. we were hired to babysit this place, not be a clean up crew.”

“right,” you nod. he grabs your hand gently and you feel butterflies erupt in your tummy. “let’s go back to the office. we only have a couple more hours here. we can relax from cleaning then just be done.”

you smile in agreement, letting him lead you out of the hallway. soon your mind wanders away from the eerie feelings. you talk about everything and nothing. you laugh at every terrible joke he makes. he listens intently to stories about your family. with each minute, it seems like you two get closer — both emotionally and physically. by the end of the shift, you’re sitting knee-to-knee. your foot is brushing up against his jeans, feeling the muscle of his calf. both of your hands are rested on the desk and his fingers routinely brush up against yours. soon, they’re basically intertwined. you don’t know how they got there, but you’re not complaining.

“looks like we made it without dying,” mike says. you grin, “until tomorrow.”

“shall i take you home, then?” he asks. your face falls and he catches it, but you’re quick to mask it. “yeah, sure.” the disappointment seeps into you, but you know you’ll see him again soon. you just wish you could have more time with him.

you both walk out, triple checking that everything is shut and locked. the car ride home is silent, but it’s comfortable. you glance at mike every so often, admiring him from the passenger seat. his hair is tousled from running his hands in it. his eyebrows are furrowed as he focuses on driving, his eyes moving every so often as he watches the road. your eyes trial down the shape of his nose, noticing the tiniest bump towards the top.

dread fills you as he pulls into your driveway. you purse your lips as you try to think of what will allow you to spend more time with him.

“what’re your plans for today?” you ask. “nothing much. abby’s with a babysitter right now. thankfully, it’s the weekend so i don’t have to rush to take her to school,” he answers.

“ah,” you hum. he looks to you, seeing your face in deep concentration as you stare at your lap. “what about you? you work later today, right?”

“yep. at 2,” you say. he glances at the dashboard clock that reads 6:30 am. “you have a while then. are you tired?” he asks.

“not really. honestly, staying up all night kind of gave me a boost of energy.”

“me, too,” he nods. you can’t help but sigh. there’s no good reason for him to come inside or even for you to go back to his house. you figure you just have to wait until tonight.

“thank you again for driving me. are you able to pick me up later?” you ask.

“of course,” he nods. you smile, “great! i really appreciate it.”

“it’s really no problem,” he smiles. you start to get out of the car, but he stops you. “hey, can i, uh, use your bathroom really quickly?”

“yeah,” you nod a little too much. “thank you,” he says, stepping out of his car. you unlock the front door, trying to remember if you left your house a complete mess or not. you’re relieved to see that you did not.

mike looks around your house. it looks identical to his from the outside, but the inside is a whole different story. he wonders if you hired an interior decorator because of how beautiful it looks.

“the bathroom is down the hall to the right,” you say. he turns to look at you, then to the hallway. “thanks,” he says, making his way to the closed door.

you take off your shoes, placing them neatly on the small shoe rack you have by the door. there are some dirty dishes on the coffee table in your living room from your last meal, but you’re sure he doesn’t mind. everyone has dirty dishes laying out from time to time. you take the opportunity to load them in your dishes washer, re-folding some blankets and fluffing up the couch pillows.

you’re sat on your couch when mike comes out.

“are you hungry?” you ask. “no,” he lies. he wants to stay, but he doesn’t want to be a burden to you.

“oh, come on. we haven’t eaten in like, eight hours. at least i haven’t. i have some cinnamon rolls that would love to be baked.”

“would they, though?”

you giggle and stand up. “will your babysitter mind staying a little late?”

“i’ll call her,” mike says. he takes out his phone, dialing his home phone. it takes a moment or two for someone to pick up. “hello?” abby’s voice echos.

“hey, abby. is max there?” he asks. “yes. she just got me breakfast from mcdonald’s,” abby says.

“oh, that’s nice of her. do you mind if i speak to her real quick?”

“okay. max!”

mike quickly pulls the phone away as abby yells into the mic.

“hello?” max says. “hey, max. i, uh, got caught up at the pizzeria. are you able to stay and watch her for an hour or so?” mike asks.

“yeah, of course,” she says quickly. “awesome. i’ll pay you extra, i promise,” mike says.

“it’s okay, mike. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“yep,” he hangs up, waking into the kitchen where you’re setting out the dough.

“ah, these are pre-packaged,” mike remarks. “nobody has time to make cinnamon rolls by scratch,” you say.

“says the person who likes baking. or do you just like fake baking?”

“this is not fake baking!” you exclaim. “i am putting it in the oven and going to put icing over it.”

“whatever you say.” mike leans against your counter, crossing his arms over his chest. you can’t help but notice him flex his biceps.

“i bet you fake cook,” you quip. his brows raise in question. “and what does that entail?”

“you put a foam cup full of ramen and warm it up in the microwave.”

“those are delicious.”

“i mean, yeah, but it’s so hard to put an egg in it and sometimes the noodles aren’t soft enough.”

“well, i usually cook my ramen on the stovetop. so if i ever make you that, you’ll know it’s real cooking.”

you laugh at his joke, your eyes flickering from the rolls to him a few times. you think about doing this again with him, next time with him making you food. you think about being in his house, seeing how he lives, looking at the pictures he may have on the walls, or lack thereof. you think about sitting on his couch and watching a movie, shoulders and knees touching. you wonder what his room looks like, what color his sheets are. you want to know what he looks like sleeping and waking up. you want to know what he looks like on top of you and between your thighs.

“what else do you know how to make?” you ask.

“chicken pot pie.”

“pot pie? wow.” you are genuinely impressed.

“i’ve been told i make a mean stir fry, too.”

“you’ll have to make it for me then. does abby like your cooking?” you ask, putting the pan in the preheated oven.

“only if it’s spaghetti and waffles.”

“i see that she’s a simple girl.”

“food-wise, she is. but i don’t mind. they’re both easy things to make.”

“it’s sweet.” you turn to him, leaning against the counter diagonal from him. “how you take care of her. she’s lucky to have you.”

“truth is, i’m lucky to have her. we don’t always get along, but she keeps me going.”

“that is adorable,” you awe. “i am an only child, so i envy people who have siblings.”

“it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but it’s nice just having someone there.”

“seems like it,” you say. you move to your coffee maker, turning it on and finding a k-cup to use. “would you like some coffee?”

“i would,” he nods. “can you grab us some mugs? they’re in the cabinet behind your head,” you direct.

he does so, placing the cups on the counter. he moves to slide it to you at the same time you put your hand on it. your heart skips a beat. your eyes shoot to his and you see they’re already on you. you watch his eyes trail down to your lips and the back up to your own eyes. you feel weak in the knees as he stares at you through his lashes. his eyes are wide and full of innocence, but there’s a hint of mischief in them as his pupils begin to widen.

“thank you,” you say, your voice coming out barely above a whisper.

“mhm,” he hums, his voice low and smooth. “how do you like your coffee?” you ask.

“one sugar and a splash of milk or creamer. whatever you have,” he answers.

“i have some creamer in the fridge.” you head towards your refrigerator. he watches you as you bite your lip as you search for the creamer. you shut the fridge door gently, setting the creamer next to the coffee maker. you open the cabinet above of you, grabbing a couple packets of sugar. he keeps his eyes on you as the silence settles in.

this feels so nice. being with you in your house feels nice. being close to you, spending time with you feels nice. mike wants to do this every day. he wants to fall asleep holding you close like he did the other night in the office. he wants to live with you and make dinner for you, having it await your arrival after your day shift. he wants to wake up next to you, tracing circles on your skin until they eventually become replaced with kisses. he wants to know how you’d look on top of him, riding his dick and face.

soon the cinnamon rolls are done. you take them out of the oven, waiting a few moments before icing them.

“you’re pretty good at icing,” you say. “thank you. these are kind of hard to ice since they’re so warm,” he chuckles.

“yeah, you’re supposed to wait, but i’m starving.” you take a bite into the roll, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. mike can’t help but notice that his jeans feel uncomfortably tight all the sudden. he takes a bite of his roll, making a note of how good they are.

“you can never go wrong with these,” you say. you take another bite, some icing sticking to the top of your lip. “you have a little bit of something here.” mike’s pinky points to his own lips.

“oh, god,” you laugh, heat creeping up your neck from embarrassment. “i should’ve warned you, i’m a messy eater.” you take a napkin and wipe it over the bottom half of your lip.

mike smiles and sets his roll down. “here, let me.”

you nod and place the napkin down, his fingers brushing against yours once more. he moves closer to you, leaning his head in to where your foreheads are almost touching. his gaze is trained on your lips as he cups your face, swiping his thumb over your lips. you don’t realize you’re holding in a breath until he looks into your eyes.

“thank you,” you manage to say. your throat feels dry all of the sudden and you feel hot all over. “no problem,” he says.

the air is thick between you two. you’re so close, closer than you’ve ever been. you can feel the heat radiating off of him. when you inhale you can smell him. he smells like the woods, spearmint, and vanilla. you can recognize the spearmint smell from his car. you wonder if the woodsy smell is natural and if the vanilla is the scent of his body wash.

he doesn’t move is hand away and you’re sure you don’t want him to. his eyes move across your face, not sure whether to stare at your lips or your eyes. he sucks in a deep breath, swallowing slowly. you watch as his adam’s apple bobs up and down, his jaw becoming more sharp as he bites down on his back teeth for a moment.

“can i kiss you?” his voice is low and warm. your eyes flutter in surprise, your heart following in suit. his big brown eyes stare into yours, holding your eyes hostage.

“yes,” you finally say. he slowly moves in, his hand moving upwards to touch the nape of your neck. you try to control your breathing as you watch his eyes flicker from yours to your lips. he brushes his bottom lip against yours, causing a thrill to run up your spine. his head moves back slightly, but he makes up for it with closing the gap between you two.

kissing him feels like a weight taken off your shoulders. all the tension you’ve felt releases as you move your lips with his. he kissed you so gently, a little too soft, like he’s holding back. after a few seconds he pulls away, both of you catching your breaths.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he says. you smile, grabbing his free hand. “well, don’t stop.”

he kisses you again, this time harder. it’s almost bruising. he grabs your waist, holding you tighter and closer. you take a shower breath and his tongue slips into your mouth. you moan softly as his hand slivers down to your ass and squeezing the soft tissue. your arms wrap around him and your weave your fingers through his hair. it’s so soft like you’ve always imagined.

“can i do this?” mike breathes against your lips. your eyes are still closed as he slides both hands up your shirt. you answer him by pulling away completely and taking your shirt off, revealing your nude-colored bra. you expect his eyes to drop down immediately, but you watch as they follow your jaw and down your neck. they sweep across the area where your collarbones are, then finally landing on your breasts.

his hands walk up your sides, making you laugh a little bit. he smiles at you, his eyes jumping up to yours now. you can’t help but squeeze your thighs just by the way he’s looking at you. he attaches his lips to yours once more, but it’s not long before he starts to trail down to your neck and your chest. you unhook your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders to the ground. you lean against the counter as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your hardened nipples. you let out a little gasp as he pinches them, looking up at you to try and gage your reaction. he closes his lips around one nipple, flicking it with his tongue. you sigh this time, your hand falling to his head.

you feel his hands skim down to your pants. his fingers hook under the waistband, feeling over the cotton of your underwear. you shift your weight, feeling that the tension is almost unbearable. it’s painful as you watch him slowly slide down your pants. he runs his tongue down the valley of your breasts, pressing wet all over your tummy before landing at the top of your underwear. you step out of your pants, feeling the cold air hit your legs, making you shiver.

his left hand grabs the underside of your thigh. his hand is so warm against your cold skin. it feels nice, but not as nice as the feeling you get when he runs the pads of his fingertips down your underwear. he skims just over your slit, feeling some of the wetness that has collected. you want to slap the smirk off his face, but it makes your stomach flip.

“is there anything i should do?” he asks. now he looks all innocent, staring at you with wide eyes and raised brows.

“i could think of a few things,” you say. “mm, like what?” he inquires. his fingers are at the side of your panties. you watch in anticipation as you wait for him to pull them to the side. “tell me what you want,” mike says.

you swallow hard. “i… i want your fingers inside of me. and your mouth on me.”

you can see all of his top teeth as he smiles. “that’s all you had to say.”

you spread your legs, using the counter as a crutch. he pushes your underwear aside, slipping one finger into you. heat creeps up your neck at the sound of your cunt gushing. he slides it out momentarily, finding your clit to moisten the area. he slides two fingers in this time, curling them inside of you. he watches you again, seeing your lips part and chest heave up and down. you feel your brain go numb as he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he brings his mouth to your cunt.

“ohmygod,” you rush out, your head lolling back. his tongue flicks your clit, sucking every so often. you lead so far back your back is supported by your cabinets. one of your hands hold his head, your fingers gripping his hair. your other hand is digging your fingernails into his clothes shoulder.

“fuck, mike,” you gasp as he quickens the pace of his fingers ever so slightly. he hits that spot so perfectly, and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs around his head. his tongue starts making stronger strokes on your clit. not enough to make it hurt, but enough to make you feel like you’re already about to orgasm.

you’ve talked to mike about past lovers. you know he’s had a couple and for only short periods of time. you assumed he would be experienced, but not an expert, which you had no problem with. he’s sure as hell proving you wrong now.

“don’t stop, don’t stop,” you breathe out. you place one hand next to you on the counter, gripping the marble top so hard you think it might leave an imprint in your palm. “mike, mike,” you warn him, your throat constricting and heart racing. your toes curl in your socks and you clench your thighs around his head one last time.

you have to push his head away, seeing the dazed look on his face. his fingers exit you and he sucks them dry. you visibly gulp, feeling warmth fill your lower stomach as you watch him. all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears and your heavy breathing.

“good?” he asks. “yes,” you nod enthusiastically. “so good.”

you grab him by his shirt, crashing your lips onto his. you taste yourself on his lips. both of your hands drop down to his jeans, undoing his belt quickly. his heart skips in excitement as his pant pool at his ankles. you palm him through his brief, feeling how hard he it. it must be painful, you think, and it is. he was already hard from the moment he kissed you, and it didn’t get any better when giving you head.

you pull away and wet your hand with your spit, shoving your hand down his boxers. both of his hands grip your waist as you wrap your fingers around his length, pumping it in your hands, squeezing every so often. your other hand reached down to his balls, massaging them gently, but at the same pace as your other hand.

“shit,” mike groans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. he already feels like he’s going to blow a load. he hasn’t had sex in a long while, but he didn’t his stamina was this terrible. he knows it’s you, though. you’re the reason why his fingertips are digging into your skin. you’re the reason why his pre-cum is leaking all over your hand. you’re the reason why when he feels like he’s close to coming, he stops you because he wants — no, needs — to feel what it’s like inside of you.

“do you have a condom?” mike breaths out. “yeah,” you say. you quickly make your way to one of your drawers, pulling out a packet. “these work?” you ask.

“yes,” he nods. “you just keep condoms laying around?”

“easy access,” you shrug.

“you fuck everybody in your kitchen, then?”

“only my hot co-workers.”

he blushes at your comment. you give him a wink, tearing open the condom. you hand it to him and he slides it on. you grab the bottle of lube you keep handy as well, slathering it onto the condom, giving mike a playful squeeze that elicits a low groan. he takes you by the waist and kisses you, spinning you around so now yours against the counter again. you take your panties off and hop on, the cold marble feeling nice against your blazing hot skin.

you lean back, watching mike line himself up with you. he looks into your eyes then back down, pushing himself inside of you. you gasp softly, your grip on his shoulders tightening. he starts off slow at first, basking in your warmth and tight walls. but soon, he’s fucking you. he slides his arm under your back and pulls your bottom half towards him, causing the angle to change. he hikes one of your legs up, allowing him to lean into you more and just hit that spot deep inside of you deliciously.

“mike,” you pant into his shoulder, holding yourself close to him. he makes your eyes flutter shut and roll back farther with each thrust. you pulsate around him with every whimper and moan that comes out of his mouth. you soon feel that familiar feeling bubble in your lower stomach.

mike rests his head against your cabinet, looking down and watching as he slides in and out of you. his grip on your sides tighten as he tries to focus on other things than you, but he can’t. you’re just too sexy. the way you’re moaning in his ear, chanting his name with each thrust. the way your nails begin to scrape against his shoulder blades. not to mention, you look amazing just sitting on the countertop. he can’t not think about you and the fact that he’s inside of you.

that’s all he needs to finish.

you wrap both legs around him as you come. your head leans back, your eyes screwing shut. he comes with you, stopping after a few slow thrusts. he slides out of you, chest heaving up and down. you squeeze your legs together and swear you can still feel him inside of you.

he ties the condom and throws it into your trash can. you have a big smile on your face when he turns to look at you. he can’t help but mirror it.

“how, uh, was that?” he asks, suddenly becoming bashful. “amazing,” you breathe out. “how did i do?” you ask teasingly.

“you were…. perfect.” his pupils are blown and you can’t tell where his iris starts. his words make your body feel even more warm. you jump off your counter and put your clothes back on, making a note to wipe off your counter with lysol soon.

“i should get back home to abby,” mike says. your smile falls, but you understand. “she probably misses you.”

“probably not,” he chuckles. “well, i know i will.” you take his hands into yours.

“you’ll see me soon,” he says, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

“i will,” you smile, starting to feel excited again. you walk him outside, leaning on the hood of his car. “i hope to do this again sometime,” you say.

“me, too. maybe sometime before work i can make you dinner?” he suggests.

you’re smiling so hard your cheeks are starting to hurt. “i would love that.”

————

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@celestbarnes

[arealphrooblem]

Kidnapped by the Boss Part 6

Part one here

Synopsis: Civilian is a secretary to the Prime Minster. But when the political summit between the city states goes awry, she finds herself kidnapped by the very boss she tried to protect and nothing is what it seems.

CW: Hunger Strike, disordered eating *summary of chapter will be at the bottom for anyone who wants to skip it.*

Breakfast was delivered via servant a short while after he dropped her off. Her stomach roiled at the sight of all her favorites carefully arranged on the tray. It reminded her, quite forcefully, of how her grandmother used to wrap bitter pills in peanut butter balls or turkey for her ailing dog.

He wanted so badly to preserve the relationship they had before, as if he hadn’t completely obliterated it himself. He must have thought it would keep her complacent when her fear faded out.

He thought he knew her, but he had only ever seen her at her job. And sure, some days were hard and he caught a glimpse of her frustration or anxiety. As the years bled into each other, he learned little things about her, like her favorite foods or the TV shows that she rewatched obsessively.

But he never actually saw her. Even at the height of her newfound crush on him, Val kept a tight lid on any unprofessional slip ups and her personal life rarely leaked over into her job.

He thought patient, reliable, helpful Val was the only facet of her being. He knew nothing of the depths of her rage, her pig-headed stubbornness,

She took a slice of toast and threw the rest in the trash.

“Knock knock, Val. I hope you’re decent.”

The driver’s voice sounded about two seconds before the door opened. Of course, by the afternoon Val had already showered and dressed for the day. Still, it was a little unsettling how little time he’d give her if she wasn’t.

“Does it ever get old, coming here to irritate the shit out of me?” she demands, crossing her arms.

“Angel, it got old the first time.” He rolled his eyes. “Do you think it's my choice to be here?”

“Do you actually have free will or are you just a highly realistic robot?”

“Do you want a tour of the castle or do you want to stay stuck in this room?”

“ . . .What?”

“Apparently the rumor goes that your incredibly lavish and luxurious rooms are not good enough for you. So I’ve been tasked to show you around, let you stretch your legs or whatever.”

“Stretch my legs?” she repeated skeptically. “Where? Over the edge of the roof?”

“Or, you know, to the library. Or the zoo.”

“There’s a zoo here?”

The driver waved his hand dismissively. “Technically a rescue animal sanctuary. He calls it a menagerie because he’s pretentious as hell. But let’s be real — its a glorified petting zoo.”

A zoo and a library. Val had to admit both intrigued her greatly. Staying in this room did her no favors, mentally, with nothing to do but stew in her own fear and frustration.

She opened her mouth to comply and then promptly shut it closed.

Bitter pill. Peanut Butter.

Any kindness from him came with strings, no doubt, so he could yank her around like a little puppet.

“No,” she said instead. “I’m staying here.”

The driver’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t need to be afraid. I’m not going to kill you unless he asks me to — no matter how annoying you are. And if he does, I’ll snap your neck. Quick, efficient. Shoving you off the roof is cowardly and makes too big of a mess.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “That’s very thoughtful of you, but it has nothing to do with that. I just don’t want to go. You can tell your king to stick his zoo and his library up his ass.”

The driver gave her a long stare. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a stubborn fucking idiot?”

“Once or twice.”

He shook his head. “If you want to go slowly insane in this room, have at it, I guess.”

Lunch came. Her stomach growled at the sight of her favorite sandwich but she forced herself to throw that away too. (she ate the pickle spear though). He wanted something from her and he wasn’t going to get it just because he plied her with food and entertainment.

 A cage was a cage.

She didn’t even bother to check what dinner was. The tray and lid sat untouched on the table for the servants to whisk away tomorrow.

Hunger woke up her up later that night, her mouth dry. Head dizzy. Her stomach cramped with it, a howling beast. It was so tempting to tear the lid of the dinner off and eat it with her hands that she went and locked herself in the bathroom for a while.

A few handfuls of water from the sink was all she allowed herself. When she felt strong enough, she set the tray in the bathroom floor and shut the door to block the temptation. Sleep claimed her for a long time.

“My lady. You need to wake up.”

A hand kept delicately patting her shoulder, chasing her out of another nightmare. She jerked awake, scrambling to sit up in the bed.

One of the servants, a woman old enough to be her mother with a calm but impassive face, stared down at her. Her uniform was immaculate.

“I’m sorry,” Val found herself saying. “What — what time is it? Has something happened?”

“It is nearly eleven, ma’am. His majesty will be here in roughly ten minutes with breakfast. I advise you to dress.”

“Ten minutes?” she squawked.

“Do you need any assistance?” the woman asked.

God her head was splitting now that sleep started to fall away. “Painkillers?” she asked weakly. “My head hurts.”

To her surprise, the woman gave her a stern look. “I’m sure it does,” she said with a bland tone that did not match the look in her eyes.

The woman swept off through the door without another look in Val’s direction.

What was that about? she wondered as she stumbled to the dresser. But the fogginess in her head lay too thick to figure it out. She felt like complete and utter shit and the last thing she felt ready to deal with was him.

The bed beckoned her with its feather pillows and down comforter and high thread count sheets. She stared longingly back for a moment, debating on how convincingly she could pretend to sleep when he showed up, before sighing and putting on a fresh change of clothes.

She had just tamed her hair into another pony tail when a knock came from the door.

“Rise and shine, princess,” said the driver’s voice.

Goddamn it. She had to deal with both of them.

“Can we reschedule?” she yelled out. “I’m busy.”

“I’m afraid not, love,” said the king’s voice.  “I’d rather not wait.”

She did not like the sound of that. “Fine,” she growled. “Let’s get this over with.”

The door opened, the driver propping it open with his foot as the king stepped in with a large covered tray.

“I don’t know why you bother with knocking,” the driver muttered. “It’s not like her permission matters.”

“Because I have manners,” the king sniffed, setting the tray down on the table. “Unlike some people.”

He looked up and gave her a wink, as if sharing an inside joke.

“You don’t keep me around for manners.” The driver hopped up on her unmade bed, pulling a knife from his belt and setting it on the comforter.

“Make yourself at home,” Val said scathingly.

“How generous of you.” He bared his teeth in a dangerous smile. “I think I will.”

The king made himself busy setting out the spread. Toast and jams and sausage links and cubed cheese and a thermos of coffee with delicate china cups.

“Children, play nice. It’s not even noon. Val, please, heave a seat.”

Just looking at the food made her stomach rebel, even as the rest of her body desperately craved it. The smell invaded her nose, making her swallow back a gag. God, why couldn’t she just sleep all day? It’s not like she had anything else to do.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “What do you want now?”

“I have something for you.” The king lowered himself down in the chair opposite of her and gestured for her to do the same. “But first, we should eat.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You’ll think differently when you see what it is. Now sit.”

He gave her a warning look, the danger of his true self slipping out from behind the mask. Val sat, feeling the presence of the assassin behind her with a knife like a prickle on the back of her neck.

“Which jam would you like on your toast?” he asked. “We have peach, strawberry, lemon chardonnay, and cherry.”

“No thank you,” she said through gritted teeth. Her stomach felt as if it were trying to eat itself.

“I insist you try the lemon chardonnay, it’s phenomenal. I have it every morning.”

He covered a triangle of toast in a thin layer of bright yellow jam before setting it on a tiny plate and handing it to her. The citrus smell washed over her, intoxicating. Any other time she would have devoured it. She loved lemon flavored pastries and he knew it. Which was why it didn’t cost her much to set her plate down off to the side  and ignore it.

The wave of twisted self satisfaction more than made up for her hunger.

Next he poured her a glass of clear water from another thermos and slid it over to her.

“Water?”

“I’m not thirsty.”

She wanted to drown herself in that glass of water, but she’d rather drop dead than give him that satisfaction. He wanted her to eat and drink so badly. He wanted her healthy enough to pretend that her life wasn’t in his hands. To forget how responsible he was for ruining it.

She wouldn’t let him.

“You are thirsty, though,” he said, his stare cutting her from across the table. “Because you haven’t eaten or drank anything in almost three days.”

“That’s not true.”

She had a pickle slice. And a piece of plain toast. And some water from the sink. His gaze narrowed, though, the previous warmth in his gaze clouding over.

“Oh but it is. The servants have found your food in the trash after every meal, save for last night’s dinner, which they found in the bathroom while you were sleeping.”

“I’m still figuring that one out,” muttered the driver from behind her.

“Why does it matter what I do with my food,” she retorted.

Silence answered her. Silence and that unnerving gaze pinning her down like a push pin in a cork board. She fought the urge to squirm under it, to feel like a student confronted by an angry principal. Though only a decade separated them, she felt like a child around him at times. A silly, clueless child.

But of course . . . He wasn’t actually a decade older. He was several decades older. Over a century older, at least in his mind.

“Val.”

He kept using her name like it meant something to him and it pissed her off.

“Eugene,” she said, his old name still feeling like sacrilege to the part of her brain still clinging to her previous professionalism.

If it bothered him, he showed no sign.

“I know what this is,” he said finally. 

Her hackles raised.

“Breakfast” she said, raising a brow.

“Control,” he countered. “Rebellion. Whittling yourself down to spite me.”

She hated how easily he saw through her. How well he could guess what laid under her professional mask when she couldn’t get a read on him at all.

“Maybe I don’t like the food,” she said, purposefully obtuse.

“Nonsense,” he said dismissively. “I know everything you like.”

“You’re not going to get anywhere because of that,” she snapped. “I’m not a kid you can bribe with candy and a trip to the zoo.”

“So that’s what this is.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I’m not trying to bribe you, Val. I’m just trying to feed you.”

“Well I don’t want to eat it.”

“Would you rather I send you food that you hate? French onion soup and pork rinds and spicy curry? Would that make you feel better?”

“I’m not eating anything that you give me.” She crossed her arms, fingers clenching tight at her sides, feeling as if she were digging and digging further into her own grave.

She would rather die than give him any kind of satisfaction and it scared her that that thought could be literal. But she didn’t know how to back down yet she couldn’t stomach the thought of giving him the one thing she could deny him when he had taken everything else.

“For how long? Because I’m not sure if you noticed, Val, but the only food available to you comes from me.”

She shrugged, not having an answer. It’s not like she planned a hunger strike. But refusing to eat fueled the rage simmering inside her and that felt so much better than the fear. It felt like she could do something, even if it only hurt herself.

His gaze flickered over her shoulder for a moment before returning to hers.

“It stops today. I am not leaving this room until you eat something.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time,” she retorted with bravado she didn’t feel.

Especially with the hands that dropped suddenly onto her shoulders. She launched forward, even when she had nowhere to run, but the hands grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms back behind the chair. Tugging only brought sharp pain in her shoulders, the driver’s hands a shackle around her own. 

The king stood up and stepped towards her. “You will eat today, by your hand or by mine. The choice is yours. And if you make either impossible I will chain you to a hospital bed and an IV drip. To be fair you might be close to that already with your dehydration. So we will start with that glass of water.”

He plopped a glass straw into the cup and held it out for her.

“Why does this matter so much that I live?” she demanded. “That I’m healthy? What does it matter to you what I do to myself?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he set the glass back down on the table and knelt down on one knee beside her chair, hand resting lightly on the arm. It brought him a few inches under her gaze so he had to look up, dark eyes fathomless. She couldn’t tell what emotion shone out of them, but it burned unfiltered.

“I must admit, when I pulled you into the car and onto the plane I didn’t know what I was going to do with you,” he said quietly. “ But I never considered torture or punishment — you’ve done nothing wrong. And yet, it didn’t matter, because you have done nothing but torment yourself since you got here.”

She broke away from his gaze, her stomach twisting uncomfortably, but he didn’t stop. 

“You don’t sleep and then you stop eating. You live in constant fear despite our reassurances that you’re safe. I try to give you comforts, things to make you happy and you reject it all. It’s not meant as a bribe to lull you into complacency or servitude. The reason why you’re here is because you cared about me enough to risk your safety and I refuse to have you punished for it but that’s exactly what will happen when you go back home.” 

Fingers nudged her chin until their gaze met again. 

“I’m trying to give you a life here. Bit by bit. Will you let me?”

He looked so beseeching, so soft. It hurt. She wanted to believe it so bad. 

“You tell me I’m safe but  you’ve threatened my life multiple times since I got in that car,” she pointed out. “You both have. He especially loves to point out how I live on borrowed time and borrowed favor,” she added, jerking her chin back towards the driver. 

Ice settled in those dark eyes as he flickered them over her shoulder. Immediately the driver released her arms, relief following immediately afterwards. She shook them out, then cradled them to her chest. 

“Rook has a penchant for practicality that borders on the sociopathic,” the king said. “And I haven’t threatened you so much as warned.” He took one of her hands in his. “I’ve been building up to this moment for three lifetimes and I cannot allow anyone to stand in my way. Not even you. So long as you don’t actively impede me, you have nothing to fear from me.” 

She swallowed. “You’re a very terrifying person for someone who wants my trust.”

He smiled then, a soft rueful thing. “I was not always so. Will you trust me, anyway, Val?”

And this was why he was elected, she thought with a mental shake of her head, despite his vague past and unknown status. 

“I will . . .consider it,” she said slowly. 

“And will you eat with me? . . . .Please?”

Val sighed deeply, knowing she lost this round. “Yes.”

His smile spread, slow and bright, like the sun coming up over the ridge and butterflies rioted in her chest to meet it. Goddamn it. If kidnapping and captivity and threat of potential murder wouldn't kill this stupid crush, did she have any hope at all of ever being rid of it?

Tag list:

@rivalriotrenegade @sunyside-world @fishtale88 @those-damn-snippets @suspiciousmuffin @thats-alittle-gay @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @tobeornottobeateacher @burningkittypoet @kurai-hono-blog @clover-sage

Summary: Val goes on a spontaneous hunger strike, not really intending it to be one but because she sees serving her favorite foods as a bribe to get her to comply. She compares it to the peanut butter her grandmother wraps medicine in for her dog.

After three days of very little to eat and drink, the king and the driver visit with breakfast. The king tries to force her to eat, Val and the King have a confrontation when she refuses, and he admits that he isn't trying to bribe her, but to help her make a life here since she will be punished if she ever went back home. He doesn't want her punished just because she cared enough about him to look for him in the parking lot. Eventually Val agrees to eat again and she says she will consider trusting his word when he told her he didn't want to hurt or kill her.

[whumpshaped]

prev masterlist

tw intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, lashing out, conditioning, captivity, forced domesticity

Sion didn't know what Aaron liked to eat. They never bothered to ask. They saw what things went missing one by one from the fridge, occasionally they even ate together and they could see what he preferred. That was all the background knowledge they had as they tried to assemble a nice sandwich for him.

He was having one of his worse days. There were better ones, there were worse ones... this one was definitely one where he just wanted to be alone without anyone even looking in his direction. That meant not leaving the bedroom. Not eating. Sion hated when he did that, and they were going to put a stop to it with a nice gesture.

In exchange for that gesture, Aaron was going to cheer up a little and talk to them about what was wrong. They were going to solve it together. They were going to communicate without throwing things and having to resort to knocking anyone out.

Sion put the second piece of bread on top of the finished meal, empty eyes fixed on the plate and the promise of a better day. If Aaron wasn't going to honour the gesture– no, that was silly. Of course he was going to honour it. That was how life worked, wasn't it? Nice gestures yielded nice results. Simple.

They grabbed the plate and put it on a tray along with a glass of juice. They walked up the stairs to find the bedroom door closed, and they balanced the food in one hand as they gently pushed it open.

"Don't," Aaron said immediately, sounding more scared than angry. "Don't. Please. Just let me be."

"It's okay." They put on their best soothing act, which wasn't very difficult to do when he was being so adorable. "I brought you some food. You need to eat."

"Did you drug it?" he asked bitterly. "Again?"

"It's just a sandwich. You can take it apart and look inside if that's what you want."

"And the drink?"

Sion sighed. "I guess you can't take that apart." They placed the tray on the nightstand, then sat on the bed and patted the space next to them. "You need to stop sitting on the floor in the corner."

Aaron shrugged. "I like it here. Way better than being on the bed. With you."

Sometimes, putting on their best soothing act was difficult even with Aaron around. Increasingly, they were beginning to suspect that his attitude wasn't going to change without some serious work on their part. Or the muzzle.

"I would like you to eat so you can feel better. I know you're having a hard time today."

Aaron looked... offended? "Today? Today? You think I'm only having a hard time some days? And you think you can solve it with a fucking sandwich?" He stood up, clearly ready to defend himself; which at least meant he knew he was pissing them off. That was a start.

"You could at least try eating–"

"Go fuck yourself. Bring your stupid sandwich with you."

Sion stood up without thinking, grabbing Aaron and spinning him around, slamming him against the wall with his arm wrenched behind his back. It was quick, it was efficient, but it was also maybe rougher than it needed to be. He let out a pitiful yelp at the impact, and several more when they started pushing his arm to its limits.

"Do you think you're the only one having bad days? Do you think I never have a fucking bad day? Do you think you can just continue speaking to me like I'm a piece of trash and never face any consequences? Well, today you can't, because I'm having a bad fucking day."

"Get off me–"

Sion pulled him away from the wall a little, only to slam him back against it with more force. "But I decided I'd pour all my effort into caring for you regardless. I made you food, I made you a drink, I was trying my best to make sure you would at least have a good day. Because I hate to see you fucking sad. Meanwhile you spend all your days lounging around and making me feel like shit. Do you have any idea what it feels like to get rejected like that over and over and over again?"

Aaron sniffled, clearly shaken and scared by the sudden outburst. He didn't react, and that only made them angrier. He was supposed to react. He was supposed to see the error of his ways, and he was supposed to change. So they pushed his arm further up.

"Stop!" he cried out. "Stop, please, stop– I'm sorry!"

Sion let go instantly, like hitting a clicker so the dog would know exactly when the behaviour was correct. They let him back into his little corner again, cradling his injured arm and staring at them like they were about to kill him. For all he knew, they could've been.

They couldn't lie, though. The sight of his red, tear-soaked face made their day just a little better.

"I brought you a sandwich," they said gently, offering him a chance to start over. He looked confused at first, but he was smart enough to catch on before they lost their patience.

"Thanks," he choked out.

"You wanna try it?"

Aaron nodded, but he took another minute to peel himself away from the wall and slowly approach the bed and the tray of food. His eyes kept darting back and forth between them and his meal, and Sion gave him an encouraging smile.

"Can I see what's in it? I, I'm allergic to some things–"

"Go on."

He nodded gratefully, quickly picking apart the sandwich and throwing the tomatoes to the side of the plate.

"You're allergic to tomatoes?"

Aaron flinched at the question. "I... no. I just don't– I don't like them. I'm sure the rest of it is very tasty, and I appreciate the effort you put into it." He offered them a forced and very nervous little smile. "I'm sure it'll nake my day a lot better."

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @hidden-dreamland

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

I'm a short, chubby middle management type in my 40s, but deep down I wish I were a massively obese, 20 something janitor. I don't want to forget who I am. But i would love it if you could make me that fat loser of my dreams. A raging sub bottom queer who only knows how to take orders, shorter and fatter than I could ever imagine being.

You want to be bottom of the masculine food chain. The one that is on the ground eating like a filthy hog. So be it.

You’re going to remember exactly who you were. But I’m going to enchant your body so that you’ll never be able to tell a sole. Sure you used to the hot skinny middle management worker in the office. Hitting the gym and the talk of the office with your six pack abs. You’re going to remember all that. You’ll even remember all that education you have that helped you get that high paying job. But my curse is going to rip all that away from you. You’re going to trade alll that away to be the young fat fuck of your dreams. You’re going to be 23 years old. Morbidly obese. Hairy. Working after hours to clean up the messes from everyone. You’re going to be shorter. 5’4” to be exact. A drastic drop from your previous 6’3”. But you wished it. And even though you remember all the aspects of your previous life, whenever anyone asks you about anything you’re going to respond with a thick southern draw. You’ll respond to them that you dropped out of high school. That you “ain’t got no learnin” and you’re just lucky to be working here as a contract hire. You’re going to live the life of a poor dumb loser now. And what’s even more is you’ll be able to escape it, all you have to do is ask for your old like back 😂. I bet that janitor you swapped places with is really living it up right now. It looks like you’re shaving to clean some of his condoms out of the trash as we speak. I guess you are really getting to take orders from people now eh?

[bluestjayy]

Emotional Post/Vent under the Cut (but positive this time, I think!)

I've been suffering with chronic depression since I was about 14. I've cycled through therapy a lot, I've been on antidepressants since I was 18.

You get some good advice and you get some bad advice. And often this is also contextual to yourself. Some things that work really well for me might make other people worse, that kind of thing.

By far one of the best bits of advice I ever got was to find something to keep you alive right now. Doesn't matter how small it is. Doesn't matter if it feels silly or inconsequential, if it works, put it on a list.

A reasons to live list.

Recently as I've been in what I think might be the worst mental health state of my life this far, I started small. Really small. And I mean each reason bought me a few hours.

I can't die yet because I have to take the trash out and my roommate is too scared of the bin store to do it herself. I can't die yet because I have a food item in the fridge that will go off if I don't eat it today. I can't die yet because the youtuber I like just posted a new video so I should watch that first.

After that, you start to buy yourself days. It's I can't die yet because I kinda wanna see the Venom movie this weekend. I can't die yet because there's a new episode of my favourite show this week. I can't die yet because on Fridays we order takeout food and I'm really craving it.

Next comes weeks, and even in some cases, months. I can't die yet cause I bought the perfect Christmas present for my friend and I want to make sure she gets it. I can't die yet because I have a pre-ordered item arriving. I can't die yet because they're gonna make xyz show/movie and I want to watch it.

I can't die yet because I have unfinished stories I want to tell.

And now, I am getting to look further ahead before than I have been able to for a very long time. I'm getting to say things like, I can't die yet because I'm going to own my own place one day. I can't die yet, cause in a year or two I'm going to go to Thailand with my best friend. I can't die yet, because I want to be able to get a pet cat one day, and then I won't be able to die because they'll need me to take care of them.

It feels good, that all my small steps are adding up. It feels really overwhelming that I'm starting to see these little but very real changes in myself, that I can start to see a path to a future where I survive.

And wish I could tell many people, but specifically Jeff, Barcode, and Bible (+ the whole 4 Mins team tbh) how a lot of the time, especially in the early days - they were my reasons.

There were days I woke up and said I can't die today because Barcode has a new song I need to hear. Or I can't die today because Jeff is in concert and I'm not missing those fan cams. Week to week I would tell myself I can't die today because I need to know what the fuck is happening in 4 Minutes.

They've helped me get to the point where they're part of my much bigger goals. I can't die right now because I want to see Jeff perform live in person at least once, I can't die until we get Wuju Bakery AND Happy Ending on our screens. I can't die until Bible comes to Europe somehow.

And in all of this, if you're reading, I need to also say how this community has helped me so much. This little corner of the internet we have gathered together. So much of me waking up each day is tied to not wanting to miss the stories you write and the art you make and the meta you discuss and the GIFs and the fanvids and the brainrot. All of it. Has helped me keep going, so as much as the idol's we look up to, you're all very important to other people.

There's folk out there who think about you on their worst days and feel comfort. Who seek out your creations to soothe themselves. Who find community in your Tumblr blogs and discord servers so.

Thank you, I guess. To all of you, and of course, to the boys.

And for anyone else struggling. Find a reason. Any reason at all. Make a list, and stick with us.

The world is a better place with you in it 💛

[luk4695]

tw vent.

have you ever found yourself at a time in your life, where you should be resting and preparing for the future, but you just can't. I felt exhausted and burned out back in May, when college ended. I've had 2 months of vacation already, and have 2 more months ahead of me. I'm lucky enough to not have to work this summer. I thought I'd make the most out of my time. and yet here I am.

on most days, I'm fine. however, that feeling of "fine" is as stable as a horse without its fucking legs. I'm a fucking kid trusted with adult responsibilities like voting and driving, and good thing I have my antidepressants because I would be doomed otherwise. even with antidepressants I'm a mess. the smallest of things can trigger me. oh, I had a hard time driving this morning, guess I have to spend at least half an hour in bed doing nothing to recover, sorry ! and also now I'm too mentally drained to pretend I'm fine. oh sorry you coughed too loud or you were arguing about not receiving your mail so now I have to shutdown mentally. the lights in the supermarket are too strong but I really want to buy stuff so im going to go anyway and then be surprised I'm overwhelmed. sorry the dog is crying too loud. why are you trying to make small take while I'm driving and desperately trying to keep us alive? stop eating food that's been spoiled for a month. stop laughing at my food anxiety. stop deadnaming me when you think I can't hear. stop talking. I want to stay in my bed all day but I'm restless. I feel disgusting but I'm too tired to get myself in the shower. I try to take care of my piercings but I feel like I'm doing a shit job at it. my earphones aren't working right. I want to cry but I've squeezed all the tears out of my body I guess. I spent 2 hours vacuuming and mopping the floors but now my dog has her period. the trash stinks. dishes are piling up. the vape fumes are sticking everywhere. at least I'm alive. at least I did stuff. but it never feels enough. or it feels like I didn't do it good enough. there are people in my live which I love but I don't have the energy rn to be with. I'd be an asshole to them. I need to sort myself out but I have no idea how.

I'm going to the doctor tomorrow. just getting my antidepressants prescription renewed. I hope the tears will come then. I hope I'll be able to tell someone. anyone. how tired I am.

it's so weird. I'm not at rock bottom anymore. I'm good a lot of the time, but I have moments in the day where I'm just so tired. how am I supposed to go to uni next year? how am I supposed to prepare to study abroad? how am I supposed to learn Spanish on my own? how am I supposed to work a summer job next year? how am I supposed to act cis and straight around most of my family for the foreseeable future? how am I supposed to function in this world, when cleaning my room for an hour is enough to exhaust me? when it's enough to put me out of service for the rest of the day?

meh I'll figure it out I'm sure

[euphorial-docx]

a journal entry by remus from my deadly class au wip that i’ve been possessed by some evil spirit to try to write again:

October 27th, 1987.

My dad used to say that you can’t change reality, but you can change the way you feel about it. I’m trying, papá, but it’s hard to feel anything good while living like this. All I can feel is bad and I don’t know how to change that.

Whenever I give the whole “positive thinking” thing a chance, I always end up seeing something– anything– that reminds me how shit my life has become. All around me people go about their business, to get some fast food they won’t even finish, on their way to another boring day of work or school. That positive thinking does fuck all when I hear them complain about their bonuses or when I dig through the trash for their half-eaten leftovers.

There aren’t many upsides to sleeping on the streets and eating garbage, and I can’t change my reality, but I guess there’s one bright side that makes it easier to fall asleep at night:

I’m not in that fucking place anymore.

[thisismycorneroftheinternet]

Fucking how tf am I supposed to not feel like shit and always anxious if shit never fucking improves?? I am not that fucking self-deluded to fool myself into thinking this is still a good situation somehow. Yeah sure, there's always deeper in the hole, thank fuck I am not literally digging through the trash for bones to get some protein in my meals like the poor in this city that got featured in that grotesque, horror circus-style magazine story I remember reading about in the pandemic, but that sort of thought does not make life any easier when you're still having to rely on free food that takes you a total of 2h to get, per meal, and now donations from your sister's fiancee to get by the month.

And then yet I have to deal with my sister fucking throwing a hissy fit at any time I fucking complain about (1) thing, but also debase any fucking medical help I'm trying to get because apparently according to her, I'm not that bad off and should suck it the fuck up and "learn to manage (my) own stress better" while being completely unhelpful on that front besides telling me to meditate, which doesn't fucking solve shit??? And then she also gets mad when I have to whine and cry to our mother to not let her try to cut off our little assistance, because apparently that's begging and I should not be begging I should be demanding, when our parents are literally sinking into debt more and more and our mother can barely afford to pay the taxes for her freelance job??

Like, I'm going to fucking walk in on Tuesday to the health clinic, and update them on my deteriorating mental health, and it's going to fucking be the same fucking old adage of "you should exercise for your anxiety, you should learn to organize yourself better, you should manage your ADHD without meds, you should stress less" which is so fucking unhelpful as well. Platitudes like that I already get from the fucking web as well, Instagram loves to fucking show me WellnessTM posts on the greatness of exercise and being thankful for life, why am I fucking taking hours of my day every other month to hear that as well from people I was trying to seek some sort of further help??

And like, in general, I feel like I am going circles, and nothing ever gets better, only worser and worser, and like, I am really grateful for my sister's fiancee's kindness, but like, I've been the entire month trying to not get to this. Yes, because it's humiliating, yes I'm fucking prideful and I feel like I am an able enough adult that I should not need to depend on others' kindness to eat! But also because like, I am able enough to work, I have all sorts of skills, and I am more than fucking willing to do whatever it takes, but no one wants me regardless. And worse, it's pointless to seek a full-on job because university fucking gets in the way of everything, because I fucking switched to day classes because of my family's insistence, because I entered university in night classes originally and that offended them enough that they bothered me about it, and now I'm paying the price.

And then I talk to my one university friend, and she's like "yeah I'm struggling as well" and I try to commiserate with her, because that's what one does, it's like, I realize I'm struggling way more with way less than her. Yes, sure, she had to drop university twice, but also, she's doing 40h a week of classes, and undergrad research, and was sleeping like, 4h a night. No fucking wonder she snapped twice. Meanwhile I can barely get above 14h of credit/hours without flunking something, and even when I pass it's barely scraping by. How come she's being more seriously contemplated for ADHD and anxiety and all than I am?? I guess it's because I have to rely on the free clinic, while she's on her military daddy's insurance plan. God, I don't want to resent her, but I came so close to snapping at her in the group chat when she told me that she's struggling because she can barely sleep, and sure she's seeing stuff like I used to when I slept little, but she "just ignores it and it's fine!" while I used to be terrified I'd get killed by the fucking Balloon Boy from FNAF and shadow demons when I underslept.

God, fucking hell, I swear to fucking god, I am trying so fucking hard to act normal and be normal and not be a fucking mess but even that's hard and worsening my anxiety. And yet I don't get any help that sticks.

[dirtroadtooutofhere]

Chapter 2 - "Preparations" Max

ROAD! TRIP! ROAD! TRIP! ROAD! TRIP!

Alright, I’m gonna be real with you. I’m not actually that confident Canada is safe.

Is it possible? Definitely. Do I think it could even be likely? Hell yes!

But there’s no guarantees in life, especially not after the apocalypse.

It’ll still be good to escape this dump, though. Even if it’s only for a couple days before figuring out we have to go back.

Raymond takes the map and crumples it up, throwing it in the trash.

“Hey! What the fuck? I thought you were on board with this?!?”

“I am, Max, but it’s no use to us. Every last major roadway in the country is going to be blocked by abandoned vehicles and swarmed with roaming hordes. Driving through is physically impossible, and walking is suicidal.” He talks while pulling a drawer out and rifling through it, finally finding a compass and a zoomed-in state map of Florida. “This is all we get to work with, plus more regional maps, if we’re lucky.”

The next morning, I find his legs sticking out from under the car, working on the engine. “How’s it going?”

He remains absolutely stoic.

“Raymond. Hellooo. Earth to moron.” I lightly kick his shin, and he stirs.

“I’m up! I’m up.” He slides out, sits up, and lets out an audible yawn. “I wanted to. Check everything before we go.”

Sleeping beauty finishes his tests as I do some final packing, and we load everything in the trunk together. He sighs nervously. No clue as to why he’s worried, we have more than enough:

A metric fuckton of food. It’s mostly chips, cookies, cereal, that kinda shit. Shelf stable. Ready to eat. Not the most nutritious, I admit. There’s also a little over a dozen meals, between canned foods and boxed pastas. It looks like a lot, but I admit it might not last as long as I was hoping.

Some medical supplies. Some bandages and tourniquets, various pain medications. God, there’s a lot of pain medications. When did we even get all of these?

My trusty fire axe, that I used to smash windows and bust doors with back when the department was still a thing. Still good for breaking shit, but sees a lot more zombie blood these days. I kinda miss when destruction was for a cause.

Two boxes of low-caliber ammunition. If we’re lucky, we’ll find a working gun to use it with. We do have a revolver, but it’s ancient, and only fits the 4 bullets that were in it when we found it in the back of an antique store.

Raymond’s box of tools. He managed to keep most of his original set after all this time, but there’s a few odd screwdrivers and wrenches he’s had to replace with whatever was left in the hardware stores. Includes his thick iron monkey wrench, which has doubled as his go to back-up weapon when whatever sports gear he’s holding breaks.

A pair of fire extinguishers, an ordinary red one you’d find in any house, and a bulky yellow that resembled a diving tank. You’re not supposed to hold the hose by the horn, it can freeze your fingers.

Three ratty blankets and an old nylon camping tent. There was about a week last winter where a bad frost-snap caked these islands in ice. We set the tent up in the basement and laid the blankets over it, and rode it out. He was really clingy then. “For body heat.”

He turned the ignition after we got in the front seats. He pinched his nose and blinked a few times. “I should probably drive first, dude. You look like death.”

“...yeah.”

I wasn’t even out of the neighborhood before he passed out, passenger’s seat leaned all the way back. Only a handful of undead passed by as we rode towards the main peninsula. They look so fun to run over, but I guess I value his sleep. Bastard.

[buggybugzxo]

Santafication

Chris was your average dude, brown hair, 6 foot, lean body, stubble, all the good stuff. He was gay as well, and ran an account online, showing off his body for money. Life was good, until one day when one of his followers sent a package in the mail. It was a small cardboard box with the words ‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’ on it. He guessed it was just a Christmas gift that came early. He went back inside his house and slit open the box and found two things. One was a piece of paper, and one was a baggie that had two red pills inside of it. “The hell?!” he whispered to himself. He squinted and read the paper, which had this on it, “Hey, Chris! I’m a big fan. I think you will like these pills (no they are not drugs) and they will make you really sexy in my opinion. See ya! (P.S. Take these with eggnog!)” Chris stared at the baggie. “So these will make me sexy, huh?” He said, confused. He had so many questions, but no answers. He grumbled and took a bit out of one of the pills and got a cup of eggnog out of his fridge. He tossed the pill in his mouth and got a swig of eggnog. Ignoring the taste of the eggnog, he could tell that the pill tasted sweet, but almost like peppermint. He grumbled and went on his couch to watch TV. Not even 10 minutes later, his stomach started to growl. “Huh? I could’ve sworn I ate half an hour ago...” He said, getting up to get a snack. As he went to his kitchen, he felt himself get more and more hungry. “Must be the pill.” he said, rubbing his stomach. At this point he had enough. He grabbed a pizza from his freezer and put it in the oven. “This better stop making me hungry.” He grumbled. The oven beeped and he got the pizza out and let it chill for a few minutes, but as soon as it was done cooling, he got every slice and started to eat. The pizza tasted different this time, almost as if the flavor had been boosted. He happily ate every single slice without a care and fell asleep on his couch. 

The Next Morning

He yawned at got off the couch to go use the bathroom. He groggily walked in and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He had to do a double-take when he saw that he practically had a beard now, and it was turning grey! “What the fuck?!” He yelled, “How did I get a beard overnight?! And why is it greying?!” He immediately got his razor and shaved it all off. He used the bathroom and went to his kitchen. He picked up the bag and wondered, “Did these cause all of this? How?” These thoughts raced through his mind and went to go through them in the trash. He opening the lid and was ready to drop them back in, but something told him not to. He sighed and placed them back on the counter. He had a strange urge to take another pill, but thought to himself “If a little bit of those pills caused all of that shit to happen, what will happen if I take a full one?” He shrugged and poured a glass of eggnog and took a full pill. “Whatever happens, happens, I guess.” he thought to himself. But as soon as he swallowed the pill, he immediately felt ravenous. Without thinking, he got in his truck and drove it to the local buffet. He piled his plate and started to eat like he had never tasted food before. He got a beer, which was strange because he didn’t like the taste of beer, and got another plate. 2 plates turned into 3, then 4, then 5, and so on until the buttons on his shirt busted and he was asked to leave. He waddled back to his truck, and looked at himself in the rear-view mirror, and saw that the beard had grown back and was longer than it was before, and it was more grey. “Well, isn’t that something he said.” Knowing he shouldn’t drive home drunk, he got in his car and rolled the driver seat back until he could lay down in it. 

The Next Morning

He woke up at around 4:40 AM, and was confused to see that he couldn’t see his feet now. He rubbed his eyes and saw that he now had a firm ballgut that was coated in grey hair. He rubbed his new body and knew he had to go home and take the last pill. He drove home and ran (more like waddled) into his house and saw there was a milkshake and 5 pills. Beside the milkshake, there was a note that said ‘Take the pills with this ;)’ Without thinking, he took at five pills and chugged the milkshake. He immediately felt a change go through his body, and felt his face become chubbier, his firm gut became massive and squishy, his arms and legs ballooned up like sausages, and his beard and body hair kept growing and growing. Eventually, it was done, and he felt the waves of fat go through him. He laughed and waddled over to the scale, and saw that he now weighed a massive, 1,048 pounds (475 kg for you folks not in America). He was now a big, fat Santa Claus, and loved it.

[awsugar]

1, 7, & 11 :^)

hi!!! :)

chipotle order? i get either a bowl or hard tacos with white rice, black beans, queso, mild salsa, sour cream, cheese, and lettuce depending on how the lettuce looks that day. and yes i have chipotle pro tips. number one is to drizzle some honey on your chipotle. its sooooooo good. yummmmmmmy. also yes i recommend the hard tacos but they should not be ordered to go, so only get them if youre eating in. they dont travel well basically they get soggy at the bottom and then they are not hard tacos and its unpleasant but if you eat them right away i love the crunch. you get the most food in a bowl so tacos arent the most bang for your buck but i dont pay for my chipotle so whatever. i usually just get one or two hard tacos and i crush it up with a fork and eat it like that? which is weird but i like it best that way. its similar i guess to eating a bowl with chips but the taco shells dont have all the salt. and also the chips are so hit or miss because so many people are trash at frying them. but the taco shells are never fucked up. so its a good option. those are my thoughts.

what animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium? i cant remember the last time i went to an aquarium but i think i would like to see a jellyfish rn

anything from your childhood you’ve held on to? a lot of things but i guess specifically on my bed i have a simba stuffed animal that was mine as a kid and then it became my dogs for his 16.5 years of life and then he died and its mine again and he sits on my bed and he is well loveed....

[medicinemane]

Get real tired of my mom

I ask her if she can like... actually do some laundry if I bring it down to her so we can store clean stuff in an organized way instead of dirty trashbags full of it

Answer is basically "I guess", though she made very sure to tell me not to put it in the middle of the dinningroom because that would be in her way for doing yoga... cause you know, the default is to assume I fuck everything up and am just kind of a selfish asshole with no forethought

(Only reason I'd do that is if I was trying to like... actually fucking make her help, but I don't tend to be that petty)

So I go and I clean out this... it's not the nastiest thing I've seen by a long shot, but it's a hamper that has a lot of some kinda powder in the bottom and a bit of fly prints around the side, and I spend like 15 minutes scrubbing it down the best I can with hydrogen peroxide and then finishing with rubbing alcohol to... to hopefully at least kill anything gross on the bits I couldn't get fully clean (cause I suck and I can never get anything totally clean)

Then, I go to eat one of the things she picked up from arby's. The other day she discovered that she could stop by the grocery store, pick up bread and meat and make herself a sandwich and have more food for home for cheaper than fast food... so she 100% is never doing that again

Whatever, she gets some and she (for once, there's plenty of times she doesn't and basically fuck me getting diner) brought me home some stuff... which as I expected I found that she ate one of, cause she can eat anything in the house, so the best thing is to always eat something I can actually stomach

But you know... that's not even the part that irritates me most with it, it's that she couldn't even throw out the fucking wrapper

Like... just take it 2 feet to the trash instead of leaving it on the stove

If it wouldn't be super disruptive and just kind of cruel, I'd legit just go tell her to get the fuck out. Like... you don't help me clean up after you, you constantly make a mess, she's legit one of the main reasons I'm constantly saying how worthless I am (and the people most responsible were her parents, who she'd literally take me over to so they'd give her money, so like she indirectly has a part in the rest of it), so... why the fuck should I keep letting you stay here?

Life would be so much fucking easier without you here, I might actually be able to clean the place up... I might be able to enjoy some quiet... I might not have to play therapist to the person who said no one could ever love me... you know?

Like 1200 bucks, that's why. Cause I'm a useless loser who doesn't have an income and can't act on any of the shit that might make me money. Legit that's a whole lot of the reason to let her stay

...the other reason is I'm not heartless and I'm not gonna kick someone out that would probably just go die if I did, but... I don't fucking know

You know, she spends money on a personal assistant for her writing... her writing which makes like... $12 some months

She makes herself miserable taking on like 3 projects every month, and every month swearing that's the end of it, she's not gonna over fill her plate again, and then doing the same thing next month. None of them are her own projects, almost none of them make money, almost all of them are trying to get into charity anthologies for exposure

Which is part of why she can't help me, cause she's always too tired because she's got all these big important projects that she... that she straight up pays money to get into and to have a PA promote

No offense to the PA, sure they do a great job, more it's offense to someone spending money we don't have... and you know... I could even deal with all this, all this, if she'd just... not spend money at walmart to buy stuff I get cheaper at costco... give me money for costco so I can do stuff like... pick up more hydrogen peroxide and rubbing alcohol so I stop having to ration them... pick up toothpaste so I don't have to ration it... if you're gonna blow money on the writing fine, but at least don't blow money on inferior shit from shitty companies

Anyway, I'm just kinda worthless trash and need to blow my brains out already

A gun costs a lot, but frankly it would be a good investment if it got rid of me

[worthless-weight-in-gold]

Muse Projection: Can That Bitch Cook ?

daniels: she hates making stuff from scratch but can cook pretty decently if she uses some pre-made stuff. mostly she’s good at tweaking stuff to be better; like she’ll never make a cake from scratch, but you’d never guess the cake she brought was a box mix either

jim: due to being horrifically broke for a few years he kinda had to learn how to make basic stuff, tho nothing that tastes great. he can make a lot of beans and rice based dishes that taste decent, once u get into more expensive ingredients he loses experience bc once he could pay for that he started just paying for premade food

eun yoo: she has a few dishes she can make really well, but mostly shes an average cook. she can follow recipes fine but if anything goes wrong she doesn't know how to fix it

porter: this man is basically a hobbyist chef. he cooks almost all his own food and since he’s got money he owns quite a few fancy tools to elevate dishes. he loves to do good presentation, so sometimes it looks like just rich people bullshit, but you’ll eat yourself into a food coma when you actually taste it

bruce: he knows how to make 1 type of biscuit so, so well. otherwise he's a trash cook. manages to fuck up at least 1 thing, and if its a complicated dish more than one thing. chronically forgets to add salt, which is... a bad thing to not remember

riah: a shockingly good cook. she bugged her parents' chef enough when she was a kid to have gotten some really good techniques and tips ingrained in her; she doesn’t cook all that often because she’s lazy about it but when she does cook the food is really, really good. not coma good but way better than most would expect

noa: loves making bread. loves making cookies. shes much more of a baker than a cook, honestly, tho she also makes some really good soups. she picks up cooking and can follow instructions well, but cant really improvise a meal or tweak it too well; however she comes up with new/improved recipes when baking all the time. fantastic at putting together snacks though, like makes amazing sandwiches and fruit spreads and dips

min: with what time? no

thespian: thespian ? be competent at a basic life skill ? no

sanjit: he can do basics and some very specific recipes that are favorites of his loved ones. otherwise he’s a pretty mid tier cook, tends to overcook meat bc he's scared of under cooking it and giving people food poisoning

[spesphire]

I know I live in a fucked up society where everyone is openly talking about suicide and there's a lot who's killing themselves. is this normal? where you are forced to feel useless and trashed? the voices in my head is saying the same thing over and over again. kill yourself, only a few will mourn, and the world will go on. Am i the problem they keep talking about? fuck fuck and fuck. here i am, thinking how my own mother tells me indirectly you are worth nothing without your results. as if i am just a void without it. am i really? i tried so hard to make her happy but she is Never happy with me. i wish could just press delete and make me disappear. win win situation really. she never let me have a friend. i don't have any friend. all my life i tried to be a good girl. no dating, no boys, no extrovert friends, no going out, no having fun, no listening to music no eating junk food, no watching movie. god. guess who is now a sociopathic lesbian with eating disorder and clinical depression. oh wait there is no such thing as depression. i'm just stupid and useless piece of shit. the headache is just fine. please lord, help my younger siblings, they don't deserve to see my pain. espeacially rai, she have seen worse in me.