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ellethespaceunicorn · 2 years ago

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Don’t Take My Sunshine Away, Part I

Title: Don’t Take My Sunshine Away, Part I

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader (Sunshine)

Fandom: The Gray Man

Word Count: 2.5K

Series Summary: You lived your life on a schedule. Everything is planned out from sunrise to sunset. But what happens when you go out on a limb and out of your comfort zone? Will it have dire consequences?

Chapter Summary: You’d agreed to meet someone from the internet and you find yourself tied up in a basement.

Warnings: dark fic!, attempted mugging, drugging, abduction, suspension bondage, Murder Daddy™️, oral sex (m receiving), dub-con, non-con, unprotected p-in-v sex, knife play, biting, blood play

A/N: I had an idea about Lloyd Hansen. Here is that idea. I haven’t written for Chris Evans’ character since Steve Rogers pre-Infinity War so this was an exercise and a half! Also, many many many thanks to @peyton-warren and @raccoon-eyed-rebel for helping me entertain Lloyd and for helping me to not lose my mind whilst writing this. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art: by me

Spotify Playlist is here.

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

It’s just your luck, honestly.

You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The place was a dark street. The time was 9:03 pm.

Well, technically you could blame your Tinder date for this. He didn’t fucking show up and he didn’t respond to your texts or calls. Like he just disappeared off the face of the Earth. You ended up waiting for an hour and decided to just pay for your third cup of coffee and leave.

Luckily for you, the buses were still running and there was a stop just across the street from the diner. You climb off your stool at the counter and exit through a particularly noisy door. It alerts some guys down the street and they turn to look at you before turning back to each other. Your sigh of relief is reversed when you get across the street and hear one of them shouting at you before moving closer.

You check the bus schedule that hangs in the bus shelter. You only have to wait for five minutes for safety.

What could go wrong?

“Hey baby, can I have your number?” The overwhelmingly strong skunky smell of bad weed hits your nasal passage and you gag. “Oh, what? I’m disgusting to you? Stuck up, bitch!”

“Look, I’m just trying to get home. I don’t want any trouble.” Your hand went to your pocket where you had your safety keychain on your keyring.

“Too fucking bad because you just landed yourself in trouble, cunt,” Three long strides and he has you in his grip, pulling you behind the bus shelter into the empty alleyway. He pushes you onto the wet pavement and is on top of you in seconds. He watches as you open your mouth to scream and he clamps a hand around your throat, cutting you off. “Who do you think is coming for you, unlucky bi–”

“What the fuck…hey!” A voice is coming from the street and getting closer.

Your attacker is being pulled off of you and it’s so dark in the alley that you can’t fully see who grabbed him. You see a dark blur and you hear sounds of a struggle before a strong pair of hands is helping you up.

“Are you ok, Miss?” You’re being ushered down the alley to the only lit streetlight. The more you walk under its glow, you notice the man who saved you. Your eyes are drawn to the push broom on his lip first, then to his slicked-back hair, and finally to his dramatically-patterned polo and pastel chino pants.

“Yeah, I’m fine…I think. Thanks.” You reach out your hand to touch his where it lingers on your arm. He doesn’t attempt to remove his hand, even after you squeeze it with yours quickly.

“No problem, why don’t I take you home? My car’s just around the corner here.” He does attempt to pull you towards the street. You know better than to let anyone take you to a second location, so you put your hand up with a smile.

“That’s quite alright. I’ll just wait for the bus if you don’t mind.” You try and remove your arm from his hand but his grip on you gets tighter.

“Let me at least walk you back to the bus stop?”

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You try to turn away and he pulls you closer to him.

“Why did you have to make this difficult, Sunshine?” His angry growl is quiet but no less intimidating.

“I’m sorry, wha–” You don’t get to finish as you feel a sharp prick in your bicep. Looking down, you see a syringe sticking out of your skin. You go to pull out the needle but darkness fades into your eyesight and you slip off into the void.

You awake to a pounding in your head. Your arms are sore. Your legs are numb. And you can feel the stiff presence of duct tape over your mouth. Opening your eyes, you try to raise your hand to shield your eyes from the sudden brightness but you realize your arms and legs have been immobilized.

Looking around, you see that you’re suspended about three feet above the ground in some pretty elaborate rope bindings. Your wrists are crossed against your bare chest. Your left leg is being held up straight, while your right leg is only supported by two lengths of rope on your thigh, leaving your foot to dangle which means your pussy is on full display.

You hear a door open and two sets of footsteps walk down the stairs. As the steps get closer, you hear two voices as well.

“...didn’t have to punch me so fucking hard!”

“Yeah? Well maybe if you didn’t have your slimy hands all over my things, I wouldn’t have had to bruise your fucking spleen. Don’t be such a pussy, Dougherty!”

“Fuck you, Hansen.”

“Don’t be sad I have a new plaything and you don’t.”

“Yeah. Just don’t wreck this one like that last girl.”

You struggle in the ropes and try and grunt loudly through the duct tape and the metal anchor that holds the rope loudly jostles. You pick your head up and look to your right as the men come into view.

As you recognize the man who had you on the ground, you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw the geometric-patterned polo-wearing man who tried to “save” you.

“I’m so glad you’re awake. I know you must have a lot of questions. But, you’re gonna listen first,” He walks until he can grab onto the ropes that hold you up. Looking down at you, he smiles sweetly. He begins to swing you toward him, letting go and watching as you swing back and forth, “Now, my name is Lloyd Hansen, but you are to call me Sir. You now belong to me. From every thought you have to every step you take. I own all of it. You may be wondering why I chose you of all people. Well, it had to be you, Sunshine. You’re the one.”

You are at his mercy as his hands grope at your tits and he pinches your nipples. You turn your head to look away but he just grabs you by the chin and makes you look at him.

“Now, Sunshine, you take what Sir gives you and you are appreciative. Trust me, this will all make sense later. But for now, I think it’s time I claim what’s mine.” He stalks over to your legs, standing between them. He places a kiss on your left ankle as he grabs at your right thigh. Pulling your core flush with his clothed hardness, you can feel exactly how excited he is to own you.

“I’d hate to interrupt, but–”

“But yet, you are interrupting. What?” Lloyd says as he trails kisses down your calf, his mustache tickling you as he moves.

“Well, I just…you said you would pay me. And I don’t really wanna stay around for whatever this is, honestly.”

Lloyd finally turns his head to the other man in the room before patting your leg, “I’ll be right back, Sunshine. Don’t you go anywhere, ok?”

Fucking asshole.

Pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket, Lloyd starts counting bills, “So what do you say to…a hundred bucks?”

“I say fuck you if you think I’m taking less than half a yard. Shit, I didn’t even get to fu–”

The pop of a gunshot cuts through not only his sentence but also his left eye. You watch as Lloyd pockets the money and turns back to you with a smile.

“Fuck, ok. I didn’t plan on shooting him in front of you. But…well, I did,” He caresses your cheek before ripping off the tape from your mouth. He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, expectantly waiting for you to speak.

“What do you want from me?” Your wrists hurt from struggling against the ropes.

“Oh, Sunshine. I want everything from you…eventually. But for now, I want to use your mouth.” He unbuttons and unzips his pants, “Those fucking lips of yours look so delectable.” He traces your bottom lip with his thumb and you debate biting it. Then, you remember the dead guy in the room.

Just comply. He won’t have to hurt you if you comply.

You clear your throat to get Lloyd to look at you. “Um…S-Sir?”

“Look at you calling me Sir already like a good girl,” He beams, looking down at you and holding your face in his murderous hand, “What do you want to ask me?”

“Are you going to kill me, Sir?” You couldn’t stop the fat tears from falling as you blink up at his face. You watched as his smile fell and he crouches to bring his face to your eye level.

“I would love to tell you that I won’t kill you, Sunshine. But it really all depends on you. If you don’t give me a reason to kill you, I won’t kill you. It’s as simple as that, Sunshine.”

You feel your eyes glaze over as you thought about what Lloyd had said. You didn’t want to give him a reason to kill you. You also know that there was no one coming to save you. You had no family, no friends, no roommates. You had lived a solitary life.

The sound of Lloyd clearing his throat brought you back to reality.

“Use my mouth, Sir.”

No sooner does the half-sultry half-terrified sentence leave your mouth, than Lloyd is reaching into his chinos to pull out his fat dick as he walks around you. You tilt your head back and are met with his impressive package. Eight inches of veiny length in your face suddenly is a lot to handle. As he strokes himself, he makes sure to keep it just out of reach. You hate yourself for licking your lips and following his hand with your eyes.

He positions his dick slightly over your mouth and squeezes his length from base to tip so that a dribble of pre-cum hits your lips. You snake your tongue out to taste him, the salty bitter taste you expect turns out to be almost sweet. Why couldn’t he just taste terrible?

“Open up, Sunshine.” He steps closer to you as you part your lips. He doesn’t stop pushing in until you feel his balls touch your nose. You close your lips around him and breathe through your nostrils.

Inhaling deeply, you’re hit with the familiar scent of sweetness mixed with musk—sort of Earthy. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was African black soap. You knew the smell very well, you used the body wash every day.

“Fuuuuck, baby. Gonna fuck this throat.” He wraps his large hands around your throat as he pulls out slowly, leaving just the tip before he slams back in making you gag.

He starts a steady rhythm and soon his balls are slapping you in the face. You can deny it all you want, but the way he fits perfectly in your mouth is obvious. The way your hands clench into fists and unclench denotes the urge to grab him and pull him deeper.

One of his hands moves from your throat to your tits. Pinching your nipples and groping the soft flesh must not be enough because soon he is slapping at your breasts, getting you to grunt around his dick. The groan that leaves him is so sinful, you wish you could squeeze your thighs together.

But you don’t have time to worry about that because Lloyd is pulling out of your mouth. A string of saliva connects you until he steps back. You try to follow him with your mouth but he’s out of reach too soon.

“Sir?” You don’t like the air of desperation in your voice when you speak. You watch as he moves to the other end of your body and you soon feel his hand roam from your thigh to your pussy.

In one swift motion, Lloyd is inside your cunt. With the grip his hands have on your hips, you know it’s going to hurt tomorrow. But, that’s a later problem because Sir is fucking you like he hates you. You should hate this, but you don’t. At least not yet.

“Fuck, Sunshine…knew your pussy was gonna feel good but DAMN!”

You can’t help the slew of sounds that escapes your mouth as he fucks you. The last of which sort of sounded like “Hnnnngg”. You feel as if you are going to explode at any minute but a spike of fear hits you as you think about where Lloyd is going to finish. You’re not on birth control. The speed of his thrusts picks up and you can feel him swell inside you. Fuck it.

“Sir, cum with me!”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuuuck…” Lloyd latches onto your stretched left leg with his teeth, leaving behind deep and angry bite marks as he empties inside you. Pulling out, he watches his spend leak from you, righting his pants.

You are in a state of bliss so deep that you barely register as Lloyd bites into your right thigh enough to break the skin in a few places. But you can feel the sting of his butterfly knife as it moves over your skin. The letters “LH” well with blood on your leg as silent fat tears roll down your face.

“Now you can wear my bite mark like the badge of honor that it is. And when that fades, you’ll still have my initials so you can be returned to me if you are ever lost. I don’t plan on losing you, so you better not plan on getting lost, Sunshine.”

“I don’t want to get lost, Sir. I like it here with you.” The tremble in your voice doesn’t hide your fear, and part of you doesn’t want it to. You want him to know he doesn’t have to worry about losing you somehow.

“Think you can behave for a bath and a meal? I’ll have to supervise the bath, of course. And we’d be eating together. Unless you like being hungry, in your own filth with my cum dripping out of you all night. What do you say?” Lloyd offers, the fingers of one hand ghosting over his initials on your thigh.

“Would I still have to be tied up, Sir?” So many questions you could have asked, but you picked this one.

Maybe if your hands were free, you could…do what? Fight him? Pick a lock?

No, just comply. You can do this.

“You won’t be tied up, but I do have a gift for you upstairs. But you can only have it if you’re a good girl. Are you gonna be a good girl, Sunshine?” While he spoke, he dragged a fingernail from your thigh to your upper torso as he walked around your body to your head.

“I’ll be a good girl for you, Sir. I promise.” The words on your tongue felt both foreign and familiar. Almost like you weren’t afraid for him to hurt you.

You were afraid that he wouldn’t. And that scared you more than anything.

Part II

A/N: There will be more of this. I’ve never written for Lloyd before but I enjoyed him as the little devil on my shoulder.

@raccoon-eyed-rebel @peyton-warren

If you would like to be tagged in the next installment, lemme know 🫣

#chris evans #chris evans characters #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #dark! fic #dark fic #dark!fic #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic

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rewrittenwrongs · 6 months ago

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Whumptober day 5: Sunburn / “if my pain will stretch that far”

Read on Ao3 (registered users only) | day 4 | day 6 coming soon | Whumptober masterpost

TW: nothing, I think. Unless chronic pain counts?

The sunburns are actually pretty minor, but I just HAD to include them in some capacity. The duality of the source of Kon’s powers and energy being able to hurt his loved ones… yeah, I’m a fan.

Tim and Kon’s relationship can be interpreted as both platonic or romantic.

Kon was concerned about Tim.

Honestly, it shouldn’t be surprising at this point. He gets concerned for him a lot. But the reason for his concern was certainly surprising. You see, despite the entirety of Young Justice being present at base, Robin was the only one who hadn’t shown up to training today.

Now, if you know anything about Robin’s, you know they take training seriously. They never let injuries, short of something truly obscene like a dozen broken bones and three gunshot wounds, keep them from doing at very least some stretches and/or cardio. And yet. Kon has been hanging around the training rooms almost all day, and has seen literally every other member of their team at least in passing, except Robin.

Kon knew Tim liked to get his workouts done in the morning. He’d have a protein bar, sling a towel over his shoulder, and lock himself in the gym or training room for at least an hour, usually closer to two. If he was injured or tired from an exhausting mission he might stick to cardio, or cut his session short, but he never skipped all together. And yet, when Kon checked the time after the dozenth repetition of a move Robin was supposed to be teaching him, he found it was already 5 PM.

And while Kon hasn’t actually been in the gym or training room the entire day, he’s spent most of the day nearby, or in areas between the gym and the bedrooms. He hasn’t heard Tim’s bedroom door open once all day. He didn’t even see him at breakfast or lunch.

Frowning at the clock on the wall, he spared Cassie a wave before leaving the training room. He put back on his shoes at the door—his balance was better without the soles of his boots in the way, and he liked feeling the texture of the mats. He walked at a brisk pace rather than flying or running like he was tempted to. Tim must be seriously injured or drowning in casework if he didn’t have time for exercise. Kon didn’t recall seeing him get hit in yesterday’s mission. They’d spent the entire day in the sun and he was looking a bit red by the end of it, but sunburns weren’t enough to keep Robin bed-bound. Even if he had horrific tan lines around his eyes.

Kon knocked on the door to Robin’s room, listening closely for a response. Most of the rooms were soundproofed, but there was little that could hold up to a kryptonian up close.

He heard a muffled groan from inside. He knocked again, calling, “Rob?”

A tense moment of silent deliberation, before Tim said, “Come in,” sounding strained and quite miserable.

Kon tapped the touchpad and the door slid open obediently, lock either disabled or not up to begin with. Inside the only light source was a nightlight that threw pale star silhouettes against the walls. Tim was lying shirtless face down on his bed, blanket draped over his legs and waist.

Kon walked over, door shutting behind him. “Hey, bud, I haven’t seen you in the gym today. Or at lunch. You feeling good?” He reached the bed and sat on the edge of it. He heard in sharp relief the cut off whimper Tim made as the bed dipped, and the strain of fabric as his fist tightened around his pillow.

Kon went very still and scanned Tim for injuries. “Tim?” Save for some nasty sunburns on his neck, biceps and forearms, where his suit didn’t cover, he only had a few pale bruises on his hands. They were pressing against the pillow but Tim would just move them if they actually hurt. Kon eyed the sunburns distrustfully—the thought of the same thing that literally gave him his powers being able to hurt his friends still made him queasy, but he doubted they were the cause of this pain.

Tim groaned into his pillow. He sounded miserable.

“Tim?” Okay, Kon’s worry was increasing. Had he been hit with a curse? Yesterday’s mission was uneventful compared their usual, a pretty standard search and rescue after an earthquake. Minimal casualties, none of the team were hurt, there were no major aftershocks. Tim was in earshot the entire time. What was happening? Was he sick?

Tim made another pained sound, a whimper, and he shifted his head to the side so Kon could see some of his face. The sunburn there wasn’t nearly as bad as he expected, but there was water welling in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Kon tried not to panic. Tim and Red Tornado always told him panicking in high stakes situations would lead to mistakes. But this time a little hysteria was justified—Tim never cried! The only time Kon’s ever seen him cry was the time he took a bullet between his ribs and his lungs briefly collapsed. Did someone die? Did Kon miss an injury? What kind of illness could make Robin cry? What was happening!?

Tim’s jaw flexed, shaking, and he squinted shut his eyes. A tear trailed over the bridge of his nose and fell onto the pillow. “Hurts.”

“What hurts? Where are you injured?” Kon moved to rest a hand on his shoulder, but his palm hovered indecisively over it instead. “Are you sick?”

“No,” Tim whimpered, eyelashes fluttering. “No injured. Or sick. Just pain.”

“Just… pain?” Kon wracked his brain. If there was nothing specific causing it… Tim had brought up this mysterious pain without a source before, when he first witnessed one of Kon’s migraines a few months back. He’d been explaining to Kon that there were tools he could use to avoid or lessen his headaches, especially if outside sources were effecting/causing them. He listed doing stretches the day after a workout as an example, and briefly mentioned how sometimes the pain wouldn’t go away, no matter how long he held positions worthy of a contortionist. He said that holding still helped, and hot water bottles, ice packs, massages.

“Chronic,” Tim mumbled, another tear falling.

“Chronic,” Kon repeated quietly. He didn’t recognise the word. “How can I help?”

Tim whimpered.

“You said massages helped, didn’t you?” Kon checked, shifting his position to have easier access to Tim’s back, using his TTK to stop the bed from shifting.

“Mm-hmm.” Tim blinked open his eyes and looked at him. He opened his mouth—

“Don’t even think about telling me I don’t have to. I know, I want to.” Kon eyed the dresser. “Do you have any lotion? Or aloe?”

“…Lotion’s in the bathroom.”

Kon lifted off the bed, using his TTK to make the bed adjust slowly to the lack of weight rather than spring back immediately. Tim didn’t make any further noises of pain. Kon floated to the en suite bathroom and opened the cabinet beneath the sink, grabbing a bottle of lavender scented lotion. He was a little surprised by the amount of skincare products, but he supposed gluing fabric to your face for hours each day wasn’t conducive to clear skin.

Kon closed the bathroom door behind him as he reentered. “Where’s the pain?” he asked quietly. There was a furrow between Tim’s brow, the one he always got when he was injured.

“Everywhere.”

Kon winced. “Where is it worst? I’ll start there.”

“…Shoulders. Back.”

Kon set down the bottle of lotion, TTK curling the blanket beneath it so it would stay upright, and lowered himself slowly onto the bed, a leg either side of Tim’s hips. He stayed on his knees so there wasn’t any contact. Tim made a little choked whine as the bed slowly dipped. Kon dispensed some lotion onto his hands and rubbed them together.

“Heat and cold help too, yeah?” Kon asked, settling his hands in the centre of Tim’s trapezius’s, gently digging in the heels of his palms. He heard Tim’s breathing stutter, his heart rate speeding up as a muffled whimper left his lips. “I’ll grab some ice packs later…”

Kon was pretty sure his massage was just making things worse. It wasn’t the first time he massaged Tim or any of his teammates after a mission, but it was the first time Tim was so vocal about the discomfort. He knew Tim would normally rather bite his tongue off than make people concerned for his health or think he’s in pain. Yet this time, Kon’s almost every action caused a pained whimper or groan, a new tear glistened in Tim’s lashes every few moments, and the reactions weren’t shifting to contentment and pleasure the way they usually did.

Kon swallowed. Usually, if he took his time and was thorough enough, he could work out all of the aches and pains and exhaustion. But this time even his TTK couldn’t find any cramps, only a couple knots—there was no specific source for his discomfort. There was no helpful trail leading him to the final bosses. There was just… pain.

Kon slowly worked his hands across Tim’s back, occasionally collecting more lotion, carefully attacking each of his muscles in turn until they were loose and relaxed. He especially took his time massaging Tim’s shoulders. Tim had buried his face in the pillow at some point, muffling the worst of his whines. Occasionally he’d go tense all over for a second, only to cry out like someone set him on fire.

Kon asked regularly if he should stop. Tim replied no every time. Kon was seriously starting to wonder if he was a masochist.

At some point he started talking. Rambling, really, about anything and everything that came to mind. He cracked jokes and shared fun facts and teased their other teammates and recounted stories. Sometimes he’d prompt Tim to join in or share his opinion, and Tim would either force out some incoherent mumble or spend the next few minutes slowly stringing together words, past the tears and the pain. Kon was fairly sure his distraction was helping.

Once Kon had well and truly massaged the entire expanse of Tim’s back, shoulders included, he moved on to the arms, kneading and working each muscle attentively, one arm at a time. Tim’s pained noises, while still frequent, had slowly lost their volume, though they raised again each time he started a new area.

Kon finished with his hands, digging his thumbs into Tim’s callouses and working his palms. He rubbed over his fingers, his wrists, the back of his hands, his thumbs, all the while trying to ignore how significantly Tim’s pained noises had increased in both volume and occurrence. He sounded like he was being tortured. At one point he actually sobbed.

Kon froze instinctually upon hearing that. <i>He</i> caused that noise, those tears, that pain. He was hurting his best friend. Why hadn’t he stopped earlier?

Tim shifted his head so he could blearily open an eye at Kon. “Keep going,” he implored, muffled into his pillow. Tears were shining in his eyes and staining his cheek. He looked… resigned.

Kon took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and kept working the joints and tendons in Tim’s hands.

Gradually, ever so slowly, the noises quieted. Shifted from muffled groans and high pitched whines to short whimpers and miserable sniffles. Kon spent maybe fifteen minutes on his hands alone. Finally, he allowed himself to stop, and pulled back, sitting beside Tim. He no longer made a sound when the mattress dipped.

Without much thought, Kon reached out and stroked Tim’s hair. It was longer than usual, in need of a cut. Kon hoped he’d wait another few weeks before trimming it. “Are you okay?”

Tim hummed tonelessly. Not a confirmation or a denial.

“Want me to get some ice packs now?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Kon went and got some ice packs. They had quite a few in stock, for recovery after missions or workouts. Kon grabbed two smalls ones and a larger one. He returned swiftly, knocking on the door before entering, and presented his haul to Tim. “Where do you want them?”

Tim stared at him, seemingly gathering his thoughts. He didn’t spare the ice packs a glance. “…C’mere.”

“Sorry?”

“Come here.” Wincing like it took a great effort, he forced his torso to twist like he was trying to turn on his side. “Cuddles.”

Kon stared. Tim had participated in cuddle piles plenty of times, but he’d never asked for or initiated one. It took him months to be comfortable even joining in. Trying not to look giddy, Kon toed off his boots and slid under the blanket beside Tim, thankful he was wearing loose workout clothes rather than all the straps and bits of his costume.

There was some fiddling, and pain on Tim’s part, while they arranged themselves into a comfortable position. Kon ended up on his back with Tim on top of him, head resting on his collarbone, the larger ice pack spread over his shoulders and the smaller ones pressing against each hand. The blanket was pulled up around his back and Kon let himself card through Tim’s hair, once he was sure it wasn’t causing pain. Tim seemed more tired than Kon had ever seen him, which was really saying something.

Tim fell asleep quickly, heartbeat slow and breaths even. He’d tucked his head beneath Kon’s chin, snuggling up against him like he was the comfiest bed in the world.

Kon stayed awake for longer, thinking. He was glad Tim had let him stay and try to help. Even thought he wasn’t sure his massage had done any good. He was thankful, honoured, almost. He felt… undeserving, of Tim’s trust. Of seeing him so vulnerable. To see his walls fall so blatantly was a little overwhelming.

Kon, absently pressing a kiss to Tim’s head, made a silent vow that he would never do something that would get that trust taken away.

He fell asleep trying to think up new ways to help Tim with his pain.

#whumptober 2024 #no.5 #sunburn #“if my pain will stretch that far“#young just us #fan fiction #yj98 #my writing #kon el #tim drake #timkon #dc comics #dual post

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mehenit · 3 months ago

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7 Diet-Sabotaging Habits You Might Be Doing Without Knowing

Hey there, fellow dieters! 💪

Are you working hard on your diet but the numbers on the scale won't budge? You might be falling into these sneaky habits! Today, let's explore 7 unconscious behaviors that could be sabotaging your weight loss journey.

## 1. The 'Late Night Dinner' Temptation

Do you find yourself wandering to the fridge late at night? 😅 Eating after 7 PM makes it easier for your body to store fat. Try sipping on warm tea or water to get through those evening hours!

## 2. The 'Just One Bite' Syndrome

We've all been there – "I'll just have a little bit" turns into an empty snack bag! The key is to portion out your snacks beforehand.

## 3. 'Emotional Eating' as Stress Relief

Do you reach for sweet desserts or alcohol when you're feeling down? Try walking or light exercise instead – it's better for both your mental and physical health!

## 4. Skipping Breakfast 'Because I'm Dieting'

Skipping breakfast actually increases your chances of overeating at lunch. Start with at least a light salad or protein shake.

## 5. Weekend 'Cheat Days' Gone Wild

Saving all your cravings for the weekend can undo your weekday efforts! Moderate cheating is okay, but avoid two consecutive days.

6. Post-Workout Overeating

Think "I worked out today, so I can eat more"? Eating double the calories you burned creates a counterproductive cycle.

7. The 'Diet Drink' Habit

Even sugar-free and zero-calorie drinks can stimulate insulin production and trigger hunger. Water is truly your best beverage friend!

🌟 Solutions:

- Keep regular meal times

- Track emotional eating with a mood journal

- Prepare healthy snacks in advance

- Maintain weekday eating habits on weekends

- Get adequate sleep

Which bad habits do you struggle with? Share in the comments and let's overcome them together! 🤗

If you found this helpful, please like and reblog! ❤️

body fat escape booster method

#diettips dietmistakes diethabits healthydiet weightlosssabotage diet healthylife habitchange dietdiary healthylifestyle

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mamamittens · 6 months ago

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Hi! For the spooktober event; My OC Rena (intersex woman femme), goes with Massacre Soldier Killer (Serial Killer). Rena typically wears femme punk attire. She has fluffy short black hair with a permanent cowlick over her messy bangs and gold eyes, and a 'crooked' smile. There is a leftover bucket with dark and white chocolate. Rena gets a pink schnapps, and killer buys her a Black Jack and Sangrita. She shares her pink schnapps with him later and gets him a Hot Damn, Brain Damage, and Pineapple Upside Cake. They share a Gladiator.

Cut to the Chase (+18)

This ask is part of the Spooktober 2024 Event, for context!

Summary:

Rena always loved the quiet isolation of abandoned buildings. Her explorations cut woefully short when bodies start piling up in her city at the behest of her good friend, and gentle giant, Killer. But she… just can’t help herself to a little bit of mischief. So she plans one last exploration in secret, promising to knock it off until the killer is caught after this. And at first, everything is going great! The abandoned luxury apartment building as spooky and dreary as she expected it to be! But she’s not as alone as she first thought, and soon it’s a chase through a maze of identical, decaying rooms and amenities. Her life on the line as she seeks to make it out alive.

Soon, she finds something inside her awakening as the shadows stalk her with shocking intent. Will she succumb to the killer’s knife, or find a more rewarding payoff for her poor decisions?

(Serial killer!Killer/Rena(OC))

Warnings: Semi-public sex (abandoned building), rough sex, oral, dubious consent, serial killer SO, implied bargaining with sex (it's now low-key a murder kink ig??? But he's only mostly playing with her about it), threats, blood kink/play, and use of a knife during sex.

Word Count: 5,950

“—Police advise all residents in the city remain indoors after eight PM and in populated areas. They further advise that no one travels into the downtown area after that point where several abandoned buildings reside—several of which have been the crime scene of this gruesome serial killer, The Midnight Stalker.” The news reporter informed Rena in an empathetic but serious tone. Imploring all viewers to remember the crucial advice they were being given.

Rena huffed, groaning as she collapsed against her best friend, Killer—yes, really, his parents were… well, not legally parents anymore for a reason.

Killer was fucking built. An avid supporter of anger management through physical exercise and it showed. Biceps thicker than most part trees Rena had seen in her lifetime, few tended to get close to the blond man. But he wasn’t nearly as scary as he appeared, or his frequent stress relief implied. Killer, contrary to his name, was a quiet, somber sort of person. Quite shy, in fact.

Soft blond hair brushing down his shoulders with fluffy bangs covering his eyes. Lips constantly kept in a gentle frown because of how much he hated his smile and laugh. Despite this, Rena enjoyed making him happy. Seeing that rare quirk of his lips a victory in it’s own right. Anytime they were in public, it never happened though, which is why they usually watched tv together. She would hate for him to be uncomfortable because she happened to quip when he wasn’t expecting it.

One day, he’d smile wide with all teeth, just for her. Not even thinking about how much he hates it—just enjoying the moment.

Killer flicked her ear and she yelped, jumping. Turning to look at him sharply, black hair covering her eyes for a moment until she brushed it away to glare at him.

Despite his eyes being obscured, she could feel him staring. Blue meeting gold in an intense, silent communication.

“No.” Killer huffed and she jerked back.

“I wasn’t going to go out!” Rena denied hotly, face flush as she looked away with a pout.

“It’s too dangerous right now. Just… until they catch him, please stay at home after dark. Promise me.” Killer asked softly, his voice unusually tense. Rena glanced at him, running a hand through her hair and toying with her stubborn cowlick. It bounced back into a half curl the moment she let go.

“… Fine! Only because you asked!” Rena huffed, watching him relax as much as he was able to. Tense muscles softening, his head falling back as he sighed, his entire chest shifting with relief.

Seeing him so relieved at her promise made Rena feel… like an asshole.

Because Rena, contrary to her promise, absolutely intended to go out tonight.

And not to any club, either.

No.

In downtown, there was an abandoned luxury apartment building she’d been dying to get a look around. A far cry from her shitty apartment. She wanted to see how good she could have it—so sue her! Killer teased her about watching those renovation shows all the time. It was a coincidence that her hobby of urban exploration happened to take her to somewhere she could never live in a million years. Rena heard that the planned prices for those apartments were in the thousands!

So hell yeah, she wanted to see!

And unfortunately, Killer rarely joined her expeditions. Being too busy during the day to spend all night in some dusty, ruined building complex. Otherwise she would ask him. But it was already getting harder to coordinate movie night with his busy schedule.

So Rena would take this one to the chest—both for her own satisfaction and to have one last hurrah before actually following that promise.

Which lead her to here.

In the most abandoned section of downtown. Where the pavement was cracked along ever block and most of the street lights didn’t work anymore. Some flickering manically in a dying strobe effect until they eventually popped. Not even the homeless that usually lingered in the area were out. All hiding away from the serial killer that stalked the city for the past four months. Every week a body or three were reported. A truly staggering amount of people going missing and being found in pieces. Having clearly struggled, some dragging their bodies several feet until they were finished off.

The details were gruesome, and likely would fuel many podcasts for a very long time.

But Rena wasn’t worried too much.

The apartment complex was locked up tight.

It was only a contact that managed to find an in and let the urban exploration community know with heavy precaution. There may not be guards, the land itself in real estate limbo and likely to be torn down soon, but the half-finished nature promised structural issues at the very least. The upper floors visibly deteriorated from months of rain water seeping in through broken tiles.

Rena dressed comfortably, black cargo pants secured with a belt to keep the heavy pockets from ruining her dignity. Black, ripped sweater keeping the worst of the chill out as her leather gloves creaked. Hood up and a ventilation mask to keep her safe from any pollutants within the building, she creeped around dirty alleyways. Climbing over and through fencing until she reached the back half of the apartment complex.

No less than three fences keeping intruders out, Rena found her contact was correct. The gate appeared to be locked with a heavy chain and padlock, but the lock itself fell open with a light tug. The second fence had a section of wire clipped for a flimsy door. And the third? Unfinished itself with a section almost twenty feet away from the previous entrance.

It was a bit of a bitch to get through, but Rena was pleased when she found herself in the center of a dead garden. Dirt bags piled against raised beds of bricks and concrete. A massive, dry fountain cracked with an angel meant to pour water down several raised platforms. Her face serene but busted like a brick had nailed the upper half of her head. Dead shrubs shriveled in decorative walls up to her hips and ornate concrete benches lining the central pavilion. Scaffolding of what would have been hanging floral gardens left bare and, in some cases, collapsed.

But this was just one recreation area.

Of many.

Just how many, Rena was unsure. The project was kept pretty secret, likely only divulged to those belonging to several tax brackets above herself. But she knew there was an outdoor pool in the center of the building and an indoor one inside the gym. Assuming either finished before the owners were arrested for embezzling elsewhere.

Evidence of other explorers were rare. Not even a lot of tags littered the outer and inner walls of the building as she entered through an unlocked service door. She pulled out her flash light and clicked it on, sweeping the clear beam of light across the area.

The first floor was mainly lobby and reception. Some staffing areas like breakrooms, coat closets, and offices. No furniture, of course, just empty desks built into the space and counters. There was even a bare kitchen, purpose only clear by the broken tile flooring and deliberately built in gas pipes with a heavy door for a walk in freezer.

It was all so… off putting. Seeing a building so close to being ready for its purpose but stopped just short. The air smelled musty, even through her mask, and a thick layer of dust settled onto every surface and piled into corners. Some water stains littered parts of the ceiling and bare walls, indicating how far down the damage had come over the years. There was some carpet but it was molding and ripped in places, perhaps by a stray dog.

With no power, Rena was forced to use the stairs but didn’t find that particularly surprising. It happened often on her little misadventures, after all.

The stairwell was particularly derelict. Just gray concrete and darkness leading up and down. A window on every floor the only source of light, slipping through chewed up corners of plywood someone had placed over them a while ago. Dubious puddles littered the floor and stairs as she carefully made her way up a floor, certain this was for staff use rather than residents since, frankly, it looked like shit even unfinished. Luckily, no floor seemed to be locked from access inside the stairwell.

Rena removed a wedge from her pocket and propped the door open just in case it locked behind her.

The second floor was apparently dedicated to amenities. A section of bare rooms, some with prop spa equipment—perhaps for investor photo shoots as proof of concept. There was a shower section, with cozy, private shower rooms with their own electronic locks and numbers on them connected to what would have obviously been the gym. A single rack of dumbbells in the far corner abandoned, bizarrely enough, next to a wall of mirrors. The other far end of the room windows overlooking the pool.

The gym was large, taking up half of the floor plan, revealing the inner shape of the sky well to be a massive diamond. It was dark, naturally, her flashlight only revealing pieces of the pool area littered with debris. Mostly trash, as no trees could dump leaves in the deep end. If she wasn’t so interested in the actual apartments, Rena would have headed down there. But by all appearances, there wasn’t actually anything on the pool pad.

Huffing, Rena jogged back to the open stairwell and paused.

She’d left it wide open.

And it still was… but she could have sworn she propped it open at a wider angle. Not quite to the wall but a few inches away. Now it was open about two thirds of the way. Subtle but… not the same.

She glanced down at the dusty white floor and frowned, noting the scuffs in the dust indicating the wedge had been kicked into place. She tended to set the wedge down and force the door over the wedge enough to keep it in place herself.

A little unnerved, Rena removed the wedge and continued up to the next floor.

It was locked.

Huffing, she went up another floor.

Also locked.

There were twenty-eight floors and Rena had to go up to the twenty-fifth floor to find an unlocked door. It opened up to a hallway, a utility closet left open with wires hanging out of the access point in the ceiling. The hallway was bare, half painted and clearly about where they stopped during construction. Cans of dry paint left out beside an apartment door. Luckily, it was unlocked.

Now, the apartment building was built in a sort of oval shape. With an inner sky well of a diamond shape. Four sections, each with a pair of elevators and two stairways each—one for staff and one a fire exit. This section apparently overlooked the garden she’d come in through, her height revealing it was bordered by a miniature playground and a dry pond. Her view point a massive, window in the living room, white carpet still rolled up against the wall for installation.

The apartment was, naturally, massive. Clearly on the higher end of the building’s price range. Every room spacious with vaulted ceilings. Cabinets made of what appeared to be dark marble and intended to be highlighted with recessed lights. The bathrooms made her want to cry they were so nice. Polished porcelain and glass shower walls with the fanciest set up she’d ever fucking seen. The kind that needs a manual to operate for a few weeks and likely worked as a sauna judging by the crisp seal along the edges.

A total of three bedrooms and two baths, a laundry closet, a walk-in closet connected to the master bath, two regular but still larger than her closet-closets, kitchen, and balcony.

Weirdly, despite the state of the building, there wasn’t any trash or signs of life on this floor. It was the only one unlocked so far, and she’d seen a few tags in the lobby. So she wasn’t sure why there wasn’t any in here. Confused, she left the apartment and ventured further down the hallway. The doors were all locked. Still it didn’t baffle her as much, seeing as the paint cans were nearby the other one.

Why any were locked at this stage in construction was odd in itself though.

Circling around the building and returning to her wedged door, she froze.

It was open only a few inches, wedge leaving a small gap.

Rena swallowed hard, shivering suddenly in the stale air.

Quietly, she resolved to see if the upper floors were also locked and then quickly leaving before she found whoever was fucking with her wedge.

If she’d been able to see more than one apartment, she would have left that instant.

But she was breaking a promise so she was damned if she didn’t make it worth the betrayal.

Quietly, she retreated up the stairway to the next floor.

Locked.

Twenty-seven?

Locked.

Twenty—

Click.

Rena froze, eyes wide as she barely opened the door to the top floor.

It came from below her.

An access door clicking shut and echoing up the stairwell.

Heavy boots following up with deliberate slowness.

Heart racing, Rena made a gamble and slipped in, letting the door softly click behind her. Certain the other person heard, Rena raced down the hallway, circling the building, looking for a second stairway.

She found it next to the elevator, gold doors water stained and the stairwell door broken. Bent out of shape by the handle like a horse had tried to kick it in. Utterly jammed and not going anywhere.

…click.

Rena jumped, head snapping to look down the hallway. Heavy boots echoing on broken tile floors.

Desperately, Rena looked around, noticing the doorway to the next section was blocked by supplies. No way to quietly get through without alerting her stalker unless she grew several feet or risked leaping over.

Stalker.

Midnight Stalker.

Rena narrowly avoided gasping for air as she realized what was happening.

Gorey details of previous victims flooding her mind.

Grown men ripped open with their organs strewn out, each one stomped to on until the victim died. Women with their chests shredded, brutally cut into from the feet up. Faces mutilated. Tongues ripped out. Eyes stabbed clean through.

Her eyes met the door facing the elevator.

It was an apartment door.

Just barely open and clearly unlocked.

Aware she had a few moments left until she was seen, Rena slipped into the apartment and painstakingly locked the door as quietly as she could. Only with the doorknob though, the bolt still uninstalled and sitting on the floor. Carefully, she crept past the kitchen still being built, cabinetry bare bones along the wall and silhouetting the beginning of an island. The living room was massive but empty save the balcony window.

Guest bathroom? Completely empty.

Guest bedrooms? Also empty.

Rena didn’t bother checking the closets, realizing the floorplan was almost identical to the one below but simply bigger.

The master bedroom, however, was set up for a photoshoot. Airy, dusty bedding stained with mildew over a California king mattress. Dark wood for the bedroom suite furniture. Eyeing the wardrobe and the bed, Rena was forced to make a decision as the front door was kicked in.

BAM!

Rena turned off her flashlight and then she dove under the bed, dirty carpet unpleasantly gritty beneath her as she hid to the best of her ability. Holding her breath as the darkness pressed in all around her.

She could hear them walking through the apartment. Gritty glass and tile cracking beneath their boots as they confidently stalked around. Doors slamming open as they went.

Rena felt a cold chill drop down her spine as she realized she left the master bedroom door open. Hearing the stalker get closer.

Thump-thump.

And closer.

Thump-thump.

And then—

Thump.

They were standing at the foot of the bed. Rena barely able to hear steady breaths above her through the thin, showroom bedding that hung low to the floor.

Thump-thump.

Click—thump.

Click.

Thump-thump.

Creeeeeeak.

…

Rena held her breath as the stalker inspected one of the joined rooms. The closet or the bathroom, she wasn’t sure.

SLAM!

Rena jumped, nearly screaming but managing to silence her alarm.

She heard them leave, faster this time.

Thump-thump-thump-thump… thump—thump.

Click.

It was hard to hear the sound, her ears straining to register the noise.

She assumed it was the front door but couldn’t confirm with bootsteps in the hallway since the walls weren’t shitty thin like her own apartment.

Rena waited, counting down from one hundred.

She waited a little longer.

And then she slipped out from under the bed. Walking silently, arms outstretched as she sought the door, flashlight in one hand.

To her surprise, the door to the hallway was closed.

Carefully, she clicked on her flashlight and checked to make sure she hadn’t been turned around.

She stared at the light switch beside the door and cautiously opened it.

It was the bathroom door.

“O-Oh—ahah!” Rena laughed softly to herself, shaking her head. “I’m an idiot--!”

Rena turned around, beam of light sweeping across the room towards the far corner where a massive figure stood, knife catching the light in their hand. Screaming, she ran, this time correctly identifying the door out.

But she was too late.

A thick, bulging arm of steel wrapped around her throat, choking her with the crook of his elbow. Fabric bunched up around her chin as she gasped, dropping her flashlight, sending a beam of light spinning around the room. Knife stabbing into the door above her head, sinking deep into the wood. Arm lifting her up high against their chest as she frantically kicked and scratched.

A deep, growling voice hissed into her ear.

“You. Promised!”

Rena froze, breath wheezing from her lungs as recognition trickled in.

The voice was muffled beneath a mask, but undeniably familiar.

“K-Killer?” Rena wheezed softly, almost pleadingly.

“I told you to stay home.” He hissed furiously, squeezing her tighter as she flailed uselessly. “Told you it wasn’t safe—why do you never listen to me when it matters, Rena?” he asked, voice deep and harsh, more furious than she’d ever heard him before.

She pat his arm fretfully, barely able to gasp for air, let alone beg for forgiveness.

After a moment, he relaxed and let her drop to the floor, still sputtering.

She gasped for air, choking with her eyes burning as she was pressed against the door.

“W-Why do you have a knife—why are you here?!” Rena sputtered, looking up at him. He was cast in faint light, the flashlight facing more to their left and bouncing off the wall. Blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and lower face covered in a blood-stained mask.

Killer sighed.

“C’mon, Reens, I know you’re not that stupid.” Killer huffed, shifting his shoulders under a thick leather jacket. Muscles bulging against the unforgiving restraints of leather.

“You’re… you’re the killer… The Midnight Stalker. B-But why? Y-You’re so…” Rena struggled to explain her feelings. Tears dripping down her face as her heart raced, looking up at the knife still embedded in the door.

“Sometimes, exercise isn’t enough.” Killer shrugged, like it made all the sense in the world. And to him, it must.

“… are you going to kill me now?” Rena asked in a small, frightened voice. “I-I… you asked me not to go out… and now that I know…” Rena swallowed hard.

The air was tense for several long moments. Killer slowly leaning in, arm pressed against the door with the casual confidence of a man who knew the only way out was a window over two dozen stories above ground level.

She couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew he was staring down at her. His hand, bare of any protection, cupped her cheek as he sighed.

“…I—”

“W-What’s frustrating you? I-I can help—I would have helped you if you asked me b-before this… You’re my best friend—” Rena’s voice died as his fingers, so massive against her small face, flexed against her scalp. “But you are.”

“Oh?” Killer growled, curling his hand into a fist in her hair. “Even after you know what I’ve done? The people I killed. How long they must have begged for mercy?” He hissed and Rena squirmed uncomfortably.

The details still fresh in her mind… Rena couldn’t deny it frightened her.

She felt so small against him. Her head barely to his chest. An edge of danger where once she felt total safety. It was jarring.

Dizzying.

Intoxicating.

“I-I…” Rena’s voice faltered as he grasped the knife and yanked it free. Holding her still with one hand while the tip of the knife dragged over her face. Digging across her cheek and leaving a thin, tingling line behind. Just shy of cutting her.

Killer’s breathing picked up as he rubbed the blunt edge down her neck, scraping her skin until it flicked seamlessly down the front of her hoodie. Cutting it down her chest with a crisp sound. With a thoughtless motion, Killer flipped the sides apart.

She gasped as the edge of the knife slipped against the swell of her breast, blood beading up in the aftermath.

“…I can convince you?” Rena panted, uncomfortably hot as Killer pulled the knife away and flicked it in his gasp, blade down. For a moment, she was afraid he would plunge it into her body, but instead Killer delicately slipped the blade between the cups of her bra and cut.

“Convince me?” Killer purred thoughtfully. “I’m not sure you’d be offering me that if you knew how often I imagined making you scream.”

It was only years of knowing Killer that gave Rena the impression he didn’t… strictly mean it in a bad way.

“I can still scream.” Rena offered and was rewarded with a stilted snort.

“Oh, I know I can make you scream.” He sighed, pressing the tip of his knife between the fabric and her shoulder. Slowly pushing it away as she allowed it to fall. A flick of his knife cutting another thin line along her collar bone. “So small, you know? It’s the worst. Wanting what I can’t have without breaking you.”

Rena’s breath came in quick pants, nipples beading under his scrutiny as he tilted his head. The cold, flat part of his knife tapping her breasts teasingly.

“What’s this? Aren’t you scared?” he asked curiously. Knife slipping around the curve of her breast as cutting a thin, hot line between them. Rena gasped sharply and tried to remain still. Certain he’d cut her much worse if she struggled.

“A-Absolutely but…”

“But?”

“You’re still my best friend.”

Killer snarled, knife lashing out into the wall as he pinned her against it.

She felt small and helpless.

And made her rub her thighs together to relieve the edge it inspired within her.

Rena squirmed, slipping down Killer’s chest.

“Do you really hate being called that, Killer?” Rena asked in a soft voice.

“It’s one of many reasons I’m so pent up.” Killer admitted, his voice tinged with confusion as she half kneeled between his thighs.

Rena kissed the harsh tent of his erection and tossed away her ruined sweatshirt and bra.

“Then I guess I just have to make it up to you?” Rena implied coyly, hands tapping at his thick belt.

Killer’s breathing was rapid and deep, chest heaving for air as his hips canted forward.

“Yeah. You should. Before I find a better use for that lying mouth.” Killer warned.

Not needing to be told twice, Rena slipped open his buckle and tugged down his pants. Forcing them over his thick thighs until his cock bounced free. She froze, certain that the light was just not clear enough.

He looked thick and massive. Cock straining to raise under its own weight as the tip caught the light in a wet smear.

Rena reached over and pulled the flashlight closer, propping it up to cast light onto the ceiling.

No.

Killer’s cock was just massive.

A heavy hand settled over her head and his other fisted his cock. Pumping it harshly.

“Scared, Reens?” Killer asked gruffly, concern barely hidden.

Rena nuzzled closer to his cock, allowing his knuckles to dig into her hair as she kissed the swollen balls. Whispering against the heated, curly hair.

“You’re so big, Killer. You’re going to choke me.” Rena’s voice was thick with excitement as his cock throbbed. Killer let her go and shoved down his pants all the way to his ankles.

“Yeah I will.” He grunted, grasping her face and pressing her lips to his leaking tip. Groaning as she licked the hot skin. Despite both of their interest, he allowed her to slowly take him into her lips. The thick tip heavy and dripping onto her tongue as she lapped at it. Sucking it further down her throat in slow motions until it weighed down her tongue and brushed the back. Certain she reached her limit, Rena started to pull away. “I. Will.”

Killer grasped her head and rammed his cock down her throat, groaning as she whined. Choking around his throbbing cock, throat swallowing around the obstruction as her nose buried into his curls. Killer let slip a chuckle and ground against her face. Fucking her face as she fell limp, relaxing to try and make it easier to take his cock down her throat. Letting him control her as she tried to just breathe, lightheaded and dizzy with arousal at the rough treatment her usually gentle-giant friend afforded her.

“N-Ngh, th-that’s it. T-Take my cock! B-Better than I imagined it would be—small throat so tight—good girl, baby.” Killer whined, cumming down her throat with a harsh moan. It spurted down her throat in a hot wave and filled her mouth until it spurted free from her lips. But he kept rocking and trembling against her face. Fucking her in desperate jerks. “P-Pretty convincing, Reens, ssssoooo fucking convincing! Show me! Show me why I-I should k-keep you alive!”

Rena whined, looking up at him through her lashes with tears in her eyes. She moaned loudly, watching as he jerked hard at the stimulation.

“Y-Yeah? A-And?” He demanded, balls hitting her chin with wet smacks.

Rena slipped open her belt and reached into her pants. Rubbing her soaked panties with a muffled moan. Circling her t-clit as her hips jerked sporadically with the growing heat.

“M-Mmm! C-Can hear your next argument—s-sounds promising, pretty girl. C-Can you take it, though? Can th-that tiny pussy take my cock?” Rena swallowed hard and moaned an affirmative, nuzzling into his cock. “Y-You think so? B-Better—that little throat can barely handle me as it is. H-Hurt, baby?”

It kind of did, actually. Rena’s throat burning with exertion as she suppressed her gag reflex. Her saliva struggled to lubricate his cock when he wouldn’t pull out. It turned her on, though, her fingers scissoring her cunt as he continued to fuck her messy face.

It felt good to struggle against him like this. Like he was taking what he wanted. And Rena, despite wanting it too, struggled to give it him. Requiring a firm hand to please him.

It shocked her a little when he suddenly pulled free with a harsh groan.

She sputtered, gasping for air, only for him to cum over her face as she jerked back in surprise. His fist slapping against his cock as he stroked out the last of it onto her open mouth. He grasped her face and squeezed, tilting her head to either side as he inspected her.

“Oh—look at that pretty face. Would be a waste to bust it in. You like that? Like me telling you what I almost did—have done before?” Killer asked breathlessly, the sound of her wet cunt clenching her fingers audible in the quiet room. “I saw you in the gym, you know. Didn’t recognize you at first. I planned on dragging you down the stairs and making you watch as I cut you open. Seeing how hard I am at the sound of your screams. M-Maybe I still will, pretty girl. Maybe I won’t—if I breed that wet pussy you keep playing with. Selfish. Always so selfish with your best toys.” Killer chuckled thoughtlessly.

“A-And waste this pretty cock only doing it once?” Rena asked now that she had caught her breath. “I could be your best toy. W-Want it, please, Killer—I’m so wet.” Rena squeezed her t-clit. Playing with the engorged button as she licked the cum on her lips.

“W-Would be a waste… But maybe I’m not convinced yet? Maybe I need to see if it’s as good as I dreamed to fuck that pussy raw until you scream.” Killer mused, dragging her up and shoving her around. Smacking her ass once before stripping her pants off, Rena kicking off her boots eagerly as Killer removed her belt all the way. “You’re mine, either way.” He sneered, pulling her wrists close over her lower back and tying them together with her belt.

He stepped back, lifting up her hips and dragging her with him. Rena struggled to arch up her spine to keep from folding over his arm as he pressed his cock against her cunt. Rubbing the thick, hot mass between her folds as she dripped profusely onto him.

“I-I… Killer… you know I can’t have kids…” Rena admitted softly.

Killer grunted, popping the thick tip into her pussy.

“…I know.” Killer adjusted his arm under her belly to hold her more firmly before slamming in deep. “Doesn’t mean I can’t breed you, Reens.” He laughed as she screamed, her pussy struggling around his cock. Her ass not even brushing his hips as he railed her cunt open. Trying to force his cock to hilt despite knowing how small she was.

“K-Killer! Killer! Ahn! AH! A-AH! O-Ooh—K-Kill—Killer—yes—H-Hurts s-soooo g-ood! So! Good~!” Rena wailed, her voice bouncing off the walls erratically as she cried out, fucked like a toy over Killer’s arm. Legs swaying with his aggressive thrusts as she struggled to remain horizontal. Pussy burning as his cock bullied her past her limits.

His free hand stroked down her spine thoughtfully for a moment before the cold edge of a knife pressed against her skin. He made a small cut and she moaned, jerking in his hold without thought, fire burning as he sliced across her arm.

The pain twisted her mind as it consumed her. A scream ripping from her throat as her spine snapped back, cumming onto his cock as he continued attempting to hilt inside her.

“L-Looks so cute covered in blood—d-don’t worry, it’s not deep. B-But I sure am. L-Look at that, almost halfway down my c-cock—good girl—good girl~” Killer panted, fucking her through her orgasm as she wailed, mind scrambling to comprehend half of his cock inside her. “G-Good reason to keep you, isn’t it? T-training you to take my whole cock like a good girl? Breeding you every night—how’s that sound? W-Want to save a few lives with that cute pussy?”

The suggestion of a future offering up her body to keep Killer from going out and murdering someone made her moan. Letting him take out all his frustrations on her body, his good girl.

“Y-Yeah—yeah—w-why waste your time with them when you c-could be breeding me, baby?” Rena asked breathlessly, thighs trembling as he buried his cock as deep as it would go. Straining her walls as she whined. “B-Breed me—breed me, Killer—wanna be yours! M-Make me—give me—w-want it~!” she babbled, head fuzzy with the impossible stretch of his cock.

Killer leaned down, chest plastered against her slick back as he reached down to where his cock bullied her pussy. Fingertips brushing over her swollen t-clit. Grinding harshly onto it with a deep groan as it made her cunt spasm around him.

“Now that’s a good argument.” Killer agreed, making her squirt onto his cock as he ground into her overstimulated cunt. Hot cum filling her stuffed pussy and spilling down her thighs as he grunted. Brushing down his face mask so he could kiss her shoulders and lick up her throat. “H-Hate wasting time—already wasted so much time trying not to breed this sweet cunt. W-Why hold back anymore when I could enjoy making my brave girl scream?”

Rena cried out, babbling agreement against the molded door as Killer started fucking her again. Keeping her lifted up to receive his cock—as much as she could take and a little bit more.

Rena’s moans bounced off her apartment walls as she clutched Killer’s leather jacket. Legs trembling as she lowered herself onto his cock. Still barely able to take any more of it than she did that first night, Killer was still just as eager to try. One arm thrown over the edge of the couch and the other brushing back his hair as he grinned without a single care. Too enthralled at the way her pussy struggled around him.

Knife gleaming in his outstretched arm.

“Ya sure you wanna try again tonight, Reens?” Killer asked with a smirk. “Been wanting to check out a new building.” He teased.

“U-Uhn—less you wanna fuck there too—no! W-Wanted this all week! C-Can’t wait anymore!” Rena whined, leather creaking between her fists as he stretched out her pussy.

The ‘Midnight Stalker’ hadn’t claimed a life in over a month.

Not since they’d made their relationship official, that is.

Sometimes he’d cheekily threaten to ‘go out’, but he barely needed to finish his sentence before Rena was bent over the nearest table.

They fucked other times, sure, but when he was in a mood… Well, there was a reason Rena was so eager to take his cock. Only a matter of time until he used the knife on her, gifting her little cuts here and there. And every inch of his cock her body could take until she wailed about it being too much. Her sadistic boyfriend not stopping until his bloodlust—and sexual desire—was sated.

She could lie and claim it was for those innocent lives he’d otherwise brutally murder but…

“That’s my eager little girl~” Killer teased, thrusting up into her suddenly to force out another wail. “So pretty on my cock. Struggling to take it all… maybe tomorrow instead. Don’t have work so I’m free… unless you are too?” Killer asked.

She nodded, bouncing on his cock harder, gasping for air between frantic moans.

“I-I am--!” Rena squeaked, falling onto his chest as he braced her ass with one hand. Thrusting up into her as he sighed in faux reluctance.

“Nothing for it. Guess I gotta breed you tomorrow too, baby.” Killer smiled, leaning down to kiss her. Tongues tangling together as they moaned, bodies trembling from pent up aggression.

If he never killed again—it would be a secondary benefit to the city. Mostly just because Rena couldn’t stand not having his pretty cock on a regular basis and Killer willing to indulge her. Only smiling when she’s crying on his cock—too fixated to care about his smile or laugh when her pussy demands every inch of his attention.

#one piece smut #spooktober 2024 #killer one piece #tw: murder #tw: dubcon

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wecandoit · 1 year ago

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17112023 day 23/30 of intentionality

my intentions for today:

health: am meds, hygiene, exercise, pm meds

work: 9-5

accountability: derm appointment, dance class

📖: Talking to Strangers by Malcolm Gladwell

reflection: my coworkers loved the samosas which was a huge relief! the derm has put me on roaccutane so we'll see how that goes. the pretreatment already worked pretty well so i hope it goes well. our dance performance is next saturday and the students and their parents aren't putting effort into coming to classes so i had a strict talk with our coordinator and let her know we'd better cancel it if it keeps going this way. so anyway today's class got cancelled and we'll see what happens. tad worried.

join the 30doi !

#studyblr #motivation #productivity #30doi #30 days of intentionality #intentions #30 day challenge #self care #academia #study #light academia #dark academia #original

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purplesurveys · 3 months ago

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1966

Have you had more hot or cold drinks today? Cold. I hate hot drinks, they're suuuper uncomfortable to me – then again, it's likely because I live in a tropical/very warm climate. I spend more time waiting for a hot drink to cool than I do actually drinking it, if ever I am served something piping hot.

What’s a name you like that’s similar to yours? I like the name Rowan, for a girl.

Where did you get the last plate/bowl you ate with from? Idk, it's been part of the house ever since we moved in 17 years ago.

How’s your mental health today? I feel like it's generally been a lot healthier and more stable since I started to consciously set boundaries (work-wise, of course; y'all are not new here hahah) for 2025.

I delegate tasks if my load feels full, I speak up if I don't agree with something/someone, I don't pressure myself to laugh with everyone anymore, I don't reply when I've made it clear that I'm away... I know they're probably not happy about me stepping a bit back, but as long as my mental health no longer feels like it's being pounded on by a sledgehammer, I don't intend on bringing things back the way they used to be where I ended up suffering all year long.

What bands and artists did you listen to when you were a teenager? I was heavily into punk rock coming from CM Punk's influence – so apart from my own favorites which included Paramore, All Time Low, Fall Out Boy, and P!ATD, I also discovered H2O, The Bouncing Souls, Rancid, The Misfits, Cro-Mags, Minor Threat, and Against Me!

Oh I also liked One Direction LOL

Do your feelings get hurt easily? They do. I'm admittedly sensitive. Maybe it comes from the years of my mom hurling insults at me? Haha but instead of it jading me, I've just been more easily hurt.

What sort of restaurant did you last eat at? My best friends and I had dinner at Salta, this quaint little Italian place somewhere in the city. It's been getting a healthy level of virality recently, but it was a relief to find out that they can walk the talk because holy tasty Batman everything was excellent.

Do you have a friend who’s always sending you TikTok videos? Do you actually watch them? Angela's ALWAYS sending me videos in our TikTok PMs, but it's since turned into an inside joke of sorts because it's ME who never opens the app – so all her video shares just get clogged up in our thread. lol she's since learned to send me videos through Messenger instead (I'm on there much more often) but every once in a while she'll still send me videos through TikTok.

Have you ever seen a cougar in the wild? No...and I don't think we have them here, either.

Will you attend a wedding in the next 3 months? Nothing in 3 months! The only one I have scheduled is 13 months away.

Are you good at following instructions? Terrible, especially if it's just recited to me. I'm not too good with following drawn/illustrated instructions, either. I need them to be written out.

What’s your backyard or outdoor area like? It's minimalist, but we also like it that way. It has pebble paving(?), and has enough space to fit our basketball net and for my dad to run and dribble around whenever he does his daily drills/exercise. We don't need anything too large as we prefer using the rooftop anyway if we're looking for time outdoors.

Do you like your boss? (or your last boss if you don’t currently have one)? He actually just got hired a week ago after more than a year of the position being stupid vacant, so for now I'm just letting myself feel the absolute RELIEF of finally having a superior / mentor figure. He's still getting himself settled so there's not much room for feedback just yet from me. We'll see what the next few months give us.

When was the last time you took a selfie? Last Sunday, with Cooper.

What did you have for breakfast yesterday? A cup of coffee, as always.

What do you do to entertain yourself on a long flight or journey? If it's a flight, I make sure to download a loooooot of options for offline videos (for me, either BTS videos or Friends episodes) since there's never any wi-fi on planes, and I don't like falling asleep during flights, either.

If it's just a road trip, I'm usually fine with an alternate routine of listening to music, scrolling through Reddit/social media, looking out the window, and talking to whoever the driver is so they feel accompanied during the long ride.

Where are you right now? I'm staying at a coffee shop while Agi's getting his fur trimmed at the pet salon next door.

Have you ever done a hearing test? I don't think so! I've done countless vision tests, though.

Do you hate small talk? I hate small talk if it's related to work (like if I need to entertain attendees during an event), but I'm good at it. It's just something I need to do and get through, because such is life.

Otherwise, if it's with family, mutual friends etc... I actually prefer small talk! I like making people feel listened to/included, and at the same time it lets me learn more about them, too. I have no problem backing out if a person prefers to be quiet.

What’s the hottest temperature your current town/city has ever had? Somewhere in the 40Cs, which is usually the case from April-June.

How many steps per day do you do, generally? Less than 1k. I work from home and also don't like walking in the village all that much, lol. Whenever I have work days, though, I do walk A LOT so my endurance is pretty good regardless. In Japan alone I had nearly 20,000 steps for 3 days straight and could keep going if only it wasn't so crowded in some areas.

Have you had any snacks today? None yet but when I get back home, I'll probably look for something to eat. Fortunately we've got quite a lot of snacks left over from the holidays, haha.

What’s the next thing you’ll tick off your to-do list? I need to pick up batteries tomorrow for my Carat Bong.

Have you ever had a chia pet? No.

What’s your favourite sandwich filling? Fried chicken. The big, crispy kind; not the thin, cheaper variant.

Do you have any nieces or nephews? Nope.

What was the last reason you saw a doctor? Besides my dentist, I had to see one for my annual physical exam.

Do you use light mode or dark mode on your phone? Dark for most apps. On Reddit though I like the light mode better.

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congorx · 4 months ago

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Understanding Menstrual Disorders: Causes, Symptoms, and Solutions

Menstrual disorders are a group of conditions that interfere with the normal menstrual cycle, affecting millions of women worldwide, including in the Democratic Republic of Congo. These disorders can significantly impact daily life and overall well-being, yet many women suffer in silence due to stigma or lack of access to adequate healthcare.

If you are experiencing irregularities in your menstrual cycle or unusual symptoms, know that help is available. Let’s dive into the causes, symptoms, and solutions for menstrual disorders, and how online consultations through platforms like CongoRx can provide timely and effective support.

What Are Menstrual Disorders?

Menstrual disorders refer to a range of issues that deviate from a regular menstrual cycle. Common conditions include:

Dysmenorrhea: Painful periods with cramping.

Amenorrhea: Absence of menstruation for three months or longer.

Menorrhagia: Heavy or prolonged menstrual bleeding.

Premenstrual Syndrome (PMS): Physical and emotional symptoms occurring before menstruation.

Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS): A hormonal disorder affecting ovulation and menstrual cycles.

Irregular Periods: Unpredictable cycle lengths.

These disorders often stem from underlying health issues, hormonal imbalances, or external factors like stress and lifestyle.

Causes of Menstrual Disorders

Several factors contribute to menstrual disorders, such as:

Hormonal Imbalances: Fluctuations in estrogen and progesterone levels can disrupt the cycle.

Medical Conditions: PCOS, thyroid disorders, and uterine fibroids.

Stress and Lifestyle: High stress levels, poor diet, and lack of exercise.

Infections: Untreated pelvic infections are a leading cause in regions like Congo, where access to timely healthcare is sometimes limited.

Addressing these causes often requires a multidisciplinary approach, including lifestyle changes and medical interventions.

Symptoms to Watch For

While menstrual symptoms vary widely, it’s essential to recognize warning signs that may require medical attention:

Excessively heavy bleeding or passing large clots.

Severe pelvic pain or cramping.

Irregular cycles lasting less than 21 days or more than 35 days.

Spotting or bleeding between periods.

Chronic fatigue, dizziness, or anemia.

If you or someone you know in Congo is experiencing these symptoms, seeking professional guidance is crucial.

Managing Menstrual Disorders

Lifestyle Adjustments:

Maintain a balanced diet rich in iron and vitamins.

Engage in regular physical activity to regulate hormones.

Practice stress management techniques, like yoga or meditation.

Medical Treatments:

Hormonal therapies such as birth control pills or IUDs.

Medications for pain relief and symptom control.

Surgical interventions for conditions like fibroids or endometriosis.

Online Consultation Services: Access to healthcare is a challenge in many parts of Congo. Platforms like CongoRx offer online consultations with gynecologists and specialists, ensuring timely diagnosis and treatment from the comfort of your home.

Why Addressing Menstrual Disorders Matters

In countries like Congo, cultural stigmas around menstruation often deter women from seeking help. Education and accessible healthcare can transform this narrative. With services like CongoRx, women can connect with trusted doctors for compassionate and confidential care, ensuring they don't face these challenges alone.

Take the First Step with CongoRx

Living with menstrual disorders can be challenging, but you don’t have to face it alone. Whether you’re dealing with painful cramps, irregular cycles, or suspect an underlying condition, timely consultation with a healthcare professional can make a difference.

Visit CongoRx today to book an online consultation and start your journey toward better health. Empower yourself to take charge of your menstrual health—because every woman deserves care and understanding.

#healthcare #nutrition #self care #positive mental attitude #healthy #women health

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abhinavayu21 · 9 months ago

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PMS Relief: Find What Works for You

Introduction:

PMS is a state experienced by many women whose symptoms show up within 1 to 2 weeks before the start of menstruation, and they revolve mostly around hormonal changes affecting physical, mental and emotional conditions. Identifying ideal therapies for PMS that would improve daily functioning, is also useful. This blog will address: natural and non-pharmacological approaches to treating PMS symptoms, which will be explained through recommendations on lifestyle modifications, dietary changes, and other medicine for premenstrual syndrome.

What is PMS?

PMS is a hormonal disease that focuses on the fluctuations in levels of estrogen and progesterone hormones. Such hormonal changes have several effects on the body, including tender breasts, weight gain, mood swings, irritability, and constant fatigue. As for the present article, it is important to understand the origins of these symptoms in order to find the cure.

Symptoms of PMS:

PMS symptoms can vary widely but often include:

Mood swings

Irritability

Fatigue

Bloating

Breast tenderness

Headaches

Anxiety

Depression

These symptoms are due to alterations in interact function between steroids and hormones such as dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin.

Natural Ways to Manage PMS:

1. Increase Serotonin Levels Naturally:

Serotonin is a neurotransmitter which has an impact on person’s feelings. It has been preceded that inositol enhances serotonin signaling and that low levels of serotonin are associated with mood swings and depression, both of which are symptoms of PMS. Here are some types of foods that directly enhance serotonin:

Diet Tips:

Make sure to consume products containing complex carbohydrates such as rice, fruits and vegetables.

One should take products rich in lean protein for instance chicken fish and beans.

Take monounsaturated fats in nuts, seeds and avocados since they help reduce cholesterol levels.

This means that one should refrain from consuming foods in boxes, sugary foods, and foods that contain caffeine.

2. Stop Being a Night Owl:

Another crucial principle of daily life and hormonal balance is wake-sleep cycling or rhythmicity. It was also found that lack of sleep would lead to aggravation of PMS.

Sleep Tips:

The recommended amount of hours for sleep is between seven and nine hours for a competent level of functioning.

Stay on a regular sleep-wake schedule and avoid sleeping during the day hours.

Ponder on the creation of a relaxing bedtime regimen of reading or bathing with warm water.

This means that activities that involve use of screens or anything that would stimulate the brain should be avoided just before sleeping.

3. Take Sun Baths and Engage in Physical Activity:

In addition to affected mental health conditions, natural sunlight exposure and subsequent physical activities can improve many PMS symptoms. It assists the body in the synthesis of vitamin D, which plays a critical role in mood as well as in the body’s general wellbeing.

Activity Tips:

Get 15 to 20 minutes of sunlight exposure per day.

Perform activities such as yoga, exercise, Surya Namaskar or morning walking which enhances the secretion of endorphin thus helping to calm the nerves.

Physical activity contributes to the regulation of hormonal levels, elevates one’s spirits, and combats bloating.

Understanding the Role of Neurotransmitters:

Neurotransmitters like dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin are known to cause or exacerbate PMS symptoms.

Dopamine: Associated with pleasure and reward system. Whereas, low levels can cause depression and lack of aspiration or motivation. The levels of dopamine can be increased through exercises as well as fun activities.

Serotonin: Closely related to mood control and modulation. Tasty foods, drinks, and regular exercise help to enhance the serotonin level in the human body.

Oxytocin: It is popularly referred to as the ‘cuddle hormone’ since it aids in the bond formation and the calming effect. Oxytocin level can be boosted through participation in activities such as those involving yoga, interpersonal communication, and touching.

Finding the Right Medicine for Premenstrual Syndrome:

While lifestyle changes can manage PMS, some may need medication. Consult a healthcare professional to explore options like these:

Over-the-counter pain relievers such as ibuprofen and aspirin.

Hormonal treatments like birth control pills to regulate hormone levels.

Antidepressants, mainly selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), for severe mood-related symptoms.

Moreover, “Upasham Tablets” by Abhinav Healthcare are natural remedies that have shown fairly promising results for PMT patients. This Ayurvedic medicine effectively helps in treating various PMS symptoms through the use of natural ingredients that balance hormones and reduce discomforts.

Conclusion:

Effectively managing premenstrual syndrome necessitates a holistic approach including dietary improvements, changes in lifestyle and medical interventions when necessary. Appreciating the hormonal and neurotransmitter aspects of PMS enables one to make decisions on how to minimize these symptoms and improve quality of life. Importantly, what works for one person may not work for another; therefore it is important to find the right combination of approaches that will suit you best.

Upasham Tablets from Abhinav Healthcare could be worth considering by anyone searching for Ayurvedic medicine for premenstrual syndrome and menstrual irregularities. The right blend of dietary modifications along with an appropriate drug regimen can go a long way towards managing PMS effectively while also enhancing physical issues.

Resource:

#medicine for premenstrual syndrome #ayurvedic medicine for menstrual irregularities

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fettesans · 2 years ago

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I wrote a text to accompany the announcement of Felix Deiters' exhibition The Questionnaire which opens Friday, 13 October 2023, 6–9 PM at SOX. If you are in Berlin, please join us.

🎶How does the disappearance of time influence your mood, mental health and bodily experience? Help us find out by signing up for, and sharing, our new pre-registered survey! These surveys will track your mood, your experience of the (time) crisis, and your interoceptive experiences on that day. You can stop at anytime, and should do so if you feel any distress whatsoever from completing the surveys. 🎶

The first time she had her tarot cards read, she was told to keep her question quiet, to herself. And in this crowded bar she took a breath of relief and with sedulous silence, she uttered nothing. Oh, how good this felt to be offered both the question and the answers, she had thought.

Considering how much biometric data she had shed into the world, it was astonishing how much more diffuse she was with information. She told herself this spoke of a desire to inhabit other identities, of voraciously collecting stories, of wanting to remain odd-angled, hazy-like, being based nowhere-in-particular but here, and of always preferring another scene altogether, like a second opinion to her own thoughts. Anything but a straight answer, and never settling on a favorite color. Not that she didn’t have one, she simply preferred to complicate impressions made of her.

But a questionnaire isn’t a manifesto, I told her.

In 1617, an interrogatory comprising eighty-four items guided the commissioners of Eichstätt in Bavaria in their investigation of suspects. Some of the questions were grouped under topics, such as “Diabolical lust” or “shapeshifting.” Under the latter, one of the questions asked was “Whether she did not change into other forms; why, how, when, and by what means did it happen (no. 75).”

In a world where death came often and unannounced, I imagined how such questions required precise answers when the only guides were shaped by dictated prayers and confession-by-fire.

A questionnaire would have to be cast like a spell, she said. And the answers would bear the contours of a knife found in the crease of a striped couch. Words thrown like insults to exercise one’s conjured slang—the bastard tongue lovingly excoriating the mother. Or Panacea fucking Epione, I said over her laugh.

She wanted to know if there was this one lie I kept, and would always reach for when trying to give a satisfying answer to a stranger felt like watching my doppelgänger reach into my organs with a grin. I realized that I didn’t possess such a handy tune to sprinkle. I already killed the louche fucker, I probably answered instead.

I take that you have one to recite, I asked. Yes.

She had always loved taking and trying on things from her friends’ closets, or from a lover’s bedroom floor, a shirt worn the night before preferably, and when they would say you look good, she would always believe it. She thought how such gestures were templates to her own advice column, or towards an entire self-help book for casting foolish yet sensual responses when each question is a riddle. After all, advice—whether unsolicited, unwarranted, or desperately sought—appeared in ancient philosophical treatises, and medieval medical manuals, before it became the golden smear of Facebook’s actually infinite News Feed.

It was the hospital regime that produced the first sets of standardized protocols for the collection of information forms to be filled in by doctors. Volker Hess and Andrew Mendelsohn have written about “the technology of paper pre-scribing,” namely, blank sheets ruled in columns to obtain particular data. By the end of the 18th century, hospitals in Berlin and Vienna used these to record patient admission, diet, and discharge (or death). More detailed diagnoses and treatments for each patient came to be added, or recorded, on separately configured sheets or in journals. In long-practiced disciplines, such as medicine, the categories or topics written at the top of the columns – symptoms, diagnosis, prognosis, cure, etc. – functioned as implied questions.

I told her how much I loved to look at my multiple reflections formed by opposing mirrors in the entrance halls of the old Charlottenburg apartment buildings. Like a relentless acquisitor of circumstances, you seem to extend into the infinite when in reality you get progressively darker and fade into invisibility, long before you even get to the end. I remember how she looked at me as if I had just hurled an occult formula she could deviate into a questionnaire. It’s in the way mirrors reaffirm body consciousness by gesturing deceptively towards our inherent failure of communication—how my reflected body would be saying no when I wanted yes. Is that what being in the world means to you? she finally asked me. Maybe.

The push and shove of wanting, immersed in such an unstable, expansive present. How does one sequence self disagreements? I responded.

Eventually, I told her that the questions I’ve answered best were always the ones conferred like orders by a lover, questions without interrogation points, permissions really. As if possessing a strange talent like drawing blood simply with their fingers touching my skin. Conjuring veins for a laugh, or a fuck, and never expecting words. She would attempt a dispute, insisting that a questionnaire is always like an armor to the one who asks. The one who asks doesn’t have to endure any of the arrows yielded in return, she yelled at me. I remember how I stroked her hair, consoling her fantasy of opting out by saying that she needed to commit more dramatically to the source of the conflict by spending even more time on Quora. Finally, she kissed me with a smile. I remember having said something like how in his genius, Bob Flanagan had gotten rid of the power of decision-making by stealing all of the arrows. Turning his curse into something better than any audience when he had raised this army of Saint Sebastien longing for his embrace.

Perhaps questionnaires are the ultimate aporia between words and meaning, they suggest the most imperceptible forces, from moon tides to the incomprehension of decay. They force a collaboration like a hieratic plot, so deceptively arbitrary yet often bearing a scheming motive, that when a question eventually satisfies the curiosity, it induces the rattled wish to have had an entirely different one asked.

Did I only give you love when you were in pain? I don’t know. I was in pain so much of the time.

Excerpts from Daniel Midena & Richard Yeo (2022) Towards a history of the questionnaire, Intellectual History Review, 32:3, 503-529, DOI: 10.1080/17496977.2022.2097576

#personal narrative

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wrienne · 2 years ago

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My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 5: Fractures

It wasn’t until you woke to the furious vibrating of your phone that you realized you had actually fallen asleep. The sensation jolted you back into consciousness, and you scrambled around for your phone, managing to answer in the last second.

“Hello?” you said while rubbing your eyes.

“It’s me,” said Jungkook. He sounded out of breath, as if he had just been exercising or was in a hurry.

Embarrassed, you frantically searched around for Yoongi, letting out a breath of relief when you saw that he was no longer there. “Yeah?” you said absentmindedly.

“You called me earlier.”

“Oh.” While inwardly beating yourself over for having dozed off in a place that would constitute as his office, you glanced down at yourself. Someone, presumably Yoongi himself, had draped his large plaid, flannel shirt over you.

“You didn’t call me all weekend,” said Jungkook, a hint of irritation entering his voice. “And now that you finally do, all you have to say is ‘oh’?”

“I just woke up from a nap,” you said a bit defensively. “And I’ve been too busy to call you.”

“Busy with what?”

You sighed and rubbed your face. “Can we meet?” you asked instead of replying. “There are several important things I need to talk to you about, but I don’t want to talk about them over the phone.”

To be more specific, there were three topics you wanted to bring up. Firstly, you wanted to tell him about your father’s health condition and your semi-official promotion from mere university student to the CEO of one of South Korea’s largest conglomerates. Secondly, you wanted to ask him about Jung-Hyun, and whether Jungkook could consider meeting him over more… amicable circumstances. Even though you had your suspicions, you had still not gotten to the core of whatever troubled their relationship as well as the reason for it. So, in addition to gleaning some kind of information from Jungkook that might shed some more light over Jung-Hyun’s situation, you still wanted them to put their differences aside. There was simply something heartbreakingly tragic seeing two brothers avoid each other, Jung-Hyun out of inexplicable shame, Jungkook out of inexplicable anger. You only hoped it wasn’t too late to mend their relationship.

And thirdly but not lastly, you wanted to know why exactly Jungkook hadn’t told you about his and Yi-Jae’s duet.

Although you had tried your best not to think about it, the main contents of your conversations with both Se-Eun and Yoongi’s had, perhaps inevitably, wormed themselves into your head, infecting your heart and mind with doubt and mistrust. You hated the feeling of jealousy, but the more you tried to repress it, the more pronounced it became.

Was Jungkook truthful to you? Had he truly ended stuff with Yi-Jae?

Or was he deceiving you again?

You didn’t know if it was your exhale or something in your voice, but Jungkook’s tone immediately softened. “You don’t have to make up an excuse to make me come see you,” he said jokingly. “I’ll always have time for you.”

“I’m not making things up,” you said with a faint smile. “And do you really have time to meet me? Aren’t you practicing for your upcoming promotions?”

“I am, which is why I can’t see you today. What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s fine.” You tucked your phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stood and folded Yoongi’s shirt before dropping it back onto the sofa. A whisper of an unknown, masculine fragrance swept past your nostrils, sharp and clear, yet discreet enough for you to not be overwhelmed. It suited Yoongi perfectly. “What time?”

“Eight pm. Your place?”

You contemplated his question for a beat before answering. “Yeah, okay.”

“See you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

“Bye.”

After hanging up, you stepped tentatively out of Yoongi’s studio. There weren’t any windows, but according to your phone, it was well into the evening. Jong-Yeol would definitely be concerned, and, if not waiting directly outside, already either on his way or driving around in the area. Your suspicions were confirmed when you texted him and he answered within seconds, saying that he were already parked where he had left you.

Upon entering the seating area, you found Yoongi seemingly deeply absorbed by whatever was on the screen of his tablet where he sat perched in the small sofa. His slim, black eyes instantly darted to you, however, when you stepped closer.

“Sorry for falling asleep,” you said as soon as he pulled out his earbuds. With an apologetic and embarrassed smile, you scratched the back of your head. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew I was this tired. How long was I out?”

Yoongi glanced down at his wristwatch briefly before returning his focus to you. “An hour and a half,” he said.

“Shoot.” You felt your face grow hot as a new wave of embarrassment rolled over you. “I must have taken so much of your time. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Yoongi waved his tablet. “I could work out here, too, thanks to this.”

“Still, you should have just woken me.”

“I was going to,” began Yoongi, a bit hesitantly. “But you looked like you needed some rest.”

You chuckled. “Was I snoring?”

“No, you were…”

You furrowed your brows when Yoongi didn’t finish his sentence. He averted his gaze hurriedly, almost as if he was feeling self-conscious for some reason, then cleared his throat. “You just looked tired,” he finished.

“Alright,” you said, too weary to bother asking him why he had hesitated. Perhaps you had been drooling or something and it simply was too embarrassing for both of you to talk about it. Whichever the case, you were grateful of his kindness.

“You leaving?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a grimace. “I’ve bothered you long enough.”

Yoongi nodded as he rose and put down his tablet onto the coffee table. You followed him to the entryway, where both of you put on your shoes before heading out. Your soles stung against the smooth insides of your heels, and you knew you were walking a bit stiffer than you usually did as you trailed after Yoongi, who seemed to have decided to follow you all the way to the entrance.

“You didn’t have to come with me all the way,” you told him when the two of you had exited the building. The humid, heavy August air blanketed you the very instant you left the cool air of an AC heavy environment, and you began pulling your hair up into somewhat of a bun again.

Yoongi’s slim, black eyes regarded your motions with neither interest nor disinterest. “I didn’t know whether you could find your way back or not. Especially since you couldn’t even find the entrance in the first place.”

You chuckled. “I see. Thank you.”

“Are you available this Friday?”

The sudden inquiry startled you, and you stared wide-eyed back at Yoongi. “Actually, no,” you said. “How so?”

He shifted his attention elsewhere. “No, it’s nothing.”

“Come on,” you prodded. “Why did you ask if I’m available this Friday?”

Yoongi’s usually rather composed features turned into one of discomposure. “Just wondering if you had time to meet up again. I’ve said it before, but it’s kind of nice talking to you.”

You smiled. “It’s nice talking to you too, but I really can’t this Friday. I’m meeting Ju--I mean,” you amended quickly, “someone important from work. I think. It’s something business-related, at least. But what about Saturday?”

Yoongi’s eyes had narrowed when you made your error, but he didn’t comment on it. “I’m busy all weekend, save for Friday.”

“Well, let’s try next week then.” You pointed at his phone, which poked out slightly from the right front pocket of his jeans. “Keep an eye on my messages. And try to answer them more from now on.”

“I will.”

You smiled again. “By the way, thanks for lending me your shirt while I was sleeping. Your perfume or cologne or whatever it is smells really nice.”

Yoongi averted his gaze. “Thanks,” he said.

With a lingering smile, you started away from him. “See you,” you said over your shoulder.

“Goodbye.”

Although your nap in Yoongi’s studio had rejuvenated you, you were still tired when you reached the front door of your parents’ apartment. That’s why it took you a second extra before you recognized the conversing voices of your parents, coming from somewhere further into the apartment.

After kicking off your heels, you padded toward the sound, not sure whether you could trust your senses or not while you were as tired as you were. However, you were both pleased and worried to discover both of your parents in your father’s home office. Pleased, because you were glad your father had been discharged from the hospital and was finally at home. Worried, because the expression both of your parents wore hardly gave you a room for emotional relief.

Your mother’s lips formed a thin line where she stood leaning against one of the many bookshelves that bordered the walls, while your father sat behind his desk, hands covering his face. Various folders and stacks of papers cluttered the surface of the desk and the area around it. The atmosphere, already charged with something you didn’t know, grew even more tense when both of your parents saw you and clammed up.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

Your father lowered his hands from his face and smiled at you. “Nothing, sweetie. We’re just looking for a document.”

You expected your mother to snort or really, do anything, since your father’s lie was obvious. But when she remained quiet, her lips pursed tightly together, your nervousness turned into anxiousness. “Mom?” you tried.

“There are some… complications at the company,” she said through clenched jaws, her sharp gaze flitting over to you briefly.

“What kind of complications?” you asked, dread curling inside your stomach.

Your parents exchanged looks. You saw a whole conversation pass between them in silence, and fleetingly admired just how strong their bond was. There had never been a shred of jealousy or doubt between your parents, but it wasn’t until now that you realized just how unwavering their belief in one another was and had always been, and in turn how impressive it was.

Because here you were, questioning what barely constituted as a relationship with Jeon Jungkook, BTS’ “Golden Maknae” and someone you had grown up with - someone you loved.

“It’s nothing major,” assured your father suddenly.

“It might be,” elaborated your mother immediately afterward. “But your father is right, (Y/N) - at least for now.”

“You two keeping secrets from me again?” you wondered as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“We’re not,” said your father and gave you a warm smile. It hurt, for even though it was the same smile you had seen when you were a child, the lines around his eyes and mouth seemed to have multiplied since then. Your father looked better than when you had visited him during the weekend at the hospital, but he still appeared significantly weaker compared to Friday.

“But it’s better for you if you don’t know,” said your mother.

“What kind of logic is that?” you exclaimed. “I get home from having been at Phoenix all day. I’ve introduced myself as the new CEO even though I have no real allies among the other presidents, and I’ve done my best to study up on our company all weekend! How can I run a company if you won’t let me?”

“Please, try to understand.” Your father sighed and leaned back into his chair. “I would like you to know about this issue, but if you do, you might get involved in it, too, and that mustn’t happen.”

“Don’t be a stubborn child,” said your mother sternly. “For the future of Phoenix, you’ve got to trust us.”

“Fine,” you said after a long pause where you had contemplated whether it was worth arguing more or not. You despised giving up on something obviously troubling, but you didn’t want to upset your father or make him stressed.

Your father smiled at you. “Thank you, sweetie.”

“How did the hospital tests go?” Your heart started beating faster in fear and anticipation. “I’m assuming they must be done and over with since you’re home.”

Your father’s smile fell, and you saw your mother stiffening in the corner of your eye. Neither one of them had to say anything for you to understand the answer.

The tests must have proven positive. Your father had CHD.

Whatever vain hope you might have had that he would return to good health - and the company - disappeared like smoke.

You opened your mouth, only to quickly close it again. You didn’t know what you could say to console your father, for not only having been forced to step down from his position as chairman but also for having been diagnosed with an incurable disease. You didn’t know what you could say to comfort your mother, who wore a shattered expression.

You didn’t know what you could say to convince yourself you weren’t in a bad dream right then and there.

“We’re leaving for Jeju Island tomorrow.”

It was your mother who eventually broke the silence inside your father’s home office. You stiffly turned to face her. She had managed to regain control over her features and met your gaze evenly, her gaze as sharp as it usually was.

“You’re leaving?” you wondered numbly. “But what about dad--”

“He’s coming with me,” interrupted your mother as if it weren’t already obvious.

“But where are you going to stay?” You frowned. “And what if he has another heart attack while you’re there?”

Your mother snorted. “There are hospitals in Jeju as well. Even if they’re not as competent as they might be in Seoul, your father and I have decided that it’s better than staying here amid all the pollution and exhaust gas.”

“We bought a house and some land last year,” said your father, then let out a small chuckle. “It was supposed to be our retirement present to ourselves. I never thought we would move there already.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “You’re moving?” you exclaimed.

“Lower your voice,” snapped your mother as she ambled around to your father’s side and draped her hands over his shoulders.

“I’m sorry for not telling you earlier, sweetie,” said your father as he raised his hand to meet your mother’s fingers. “I never planned to lay it out this way. But I don’t think I can last very long here and I really don’t want to die in Seoul.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you blurted as you balled your hands into fists. “You’re not going to die anytime soon. You’re still relatively young, and CHD is not some slow, debilitating disease. You can still have a long, healthy life.”

Your father chuckled. “I hope you’re right about that. And I know I can’t leave before I’ve done my duty as a father and watch you get married to the person you love.”

Your eyes stung, and you lowered your gaze before you could lose control over yourself. As much as you wanted to ask your mother--no, demand that she must stay to help you become the true chairman of Phoenix Inc., you couldn’t bear bringing the question up. How could you, when the love of her life was at risk of dying all of a sudden?

“I hope you can understand, (Y/N),” began your mother, her normally piercing voice sounding uncharacteristically blunt and mellow. “And we both know this is hard for you. But please, be strong. For the company, for yourself… for all of us.”

You merely nodded, unable to vocalize a response. There was a thick lump in your throat that you couldn’t seem to speak past no matter how hard you tried, and so, you left your father’s office in silence.

The next day, your parents departed almost immediately. You followed them to Incheon Airport, where you said your goodbyes. Your father assured you that it wasn’t some kind of permanent goodbye, and that you could visit whenever you wanted to, but your mother’s eyes told a different story. You didn’t know exactly what she was thinking, but you could tell she didn’t want you to come to Jeju Island. Not because she disliked you, but rather because she didn’t want you to leave your seat at Phoenix Inc. Seoul Headquarters.

You didn’t know whether you agreed with her or not.

It was a little after lunch when you returned to the office. The air was just as alien and strange as it had been the day before, but you were at least not meeting the presidents or any other head of departments that day.

You figured it might be a bit awkward between you and Jung-Hyun, but the air was fine. He listened to you going through the thick folder of employees at the Seoul HQ, and helped you navigate the treacherous waters of the business world. It didn’t take long for you to realize just how little you knew, despite having studied at Korea University Business School for almost two years. You still had a long way to go regarding things like business strategy, market forces and company management, and so on and so forth.

Your stress accumulated throughout the day, and by the time Jong-Yeol came around to pick you up at almost seven, you were ready to pass out. Glad that you at least could look forward to seeing Jungkook, you perked up when you arrived home at your parents’ apartment. The silence and emptiness should have perhaps unnerved you since it reminded you of your parents permanent departure, but you found that it wasn’t really that much different from before.

If it was good or just sad, you did not know.

The sound of the door bell startled you. You had finished showering and was just about done cleaning up the dishes left from your dinner, which had consisted of ramen, when the electronic melody echoed throughout the hallway.

Nervousness but also anticipation trickled throughout your system. After a quick look in the entryway mirror where you made sure you weren’t wearing your clothes inside out or that there was a fragment of chili in your teeth, you padded over the cool linoleum floor and unlocked the front door.

“(Y/N).”

On the other side of the threshold stood Jungkook, dressed in ripped blue jeans, leather sneakers and a surprisingly fitted T-shirt with black sleeves. He was holding a black cap in his left hand and was in the process of pulling the white mouth mask underneath his chin. His large, familiar brown eyes peered down at you through a pair of round glasses, an accessory you weren’t really used to seeing on his face. And it must have been obvious, for Jungkook quickly grimaced.

“That ugly, am I?” he asked as he took them off.

“No,” you blurted, resisting the urge to punch yourself. “You’re not ugly. I’m just not used to seeing you with glasses. You’ve never worn them in front of me before… you know, a few weeks ago, when you first told me.”

It wasn’t until after your reunion that Jungkook had revealed his faulty eyesight. Partly because he simply hadn’t remembered due to his amnesia that he had a pair of glasses lying around, and partly because he had been too self-conscious. Now, he hadn’t said the latter out loud, but it had been obvious in the way he brought the subject up.

“Really? They look fine?”

“Really.” You rolled your eyes. “Are you coming in or not?”

You moved back to let him inside. Jungkook shut the door, and kneeled down to untie his shoes after first putting his glasses aside on the end table, which stood next to the mirror you had just recently appraised your appearance in.

“But seriously,” he said when he was done, a hint of uncertainty swimming around in what used to be pools of indifference and unrelenting emotionlessness. “Do you like my glasses or not?”

“I like them,” you said as you carefully grasped the thin arms of Jungkook’s round glasses and reached for his face. “So stop repeating that question. Besides, even if I didn’t, what would you do? Walk around blind?”

Jungkook didn’t answer immediately. His familiar brown eyes were locked with yours, and he almost seemed transfixed by your gaze. You had stepped closer in order to put his glasses back onto him, but hadn’t thought about how close your bodies suddenly were. You hadn’t thought about how addicting the smell of soap, warmth and something uniquely Jungkook was and how easily it made your heart - and knees - quiver.

You hadn’t thought about how much you yearned for him.

It was such a strange feeling. You had always avoided Jungkook, and disliked, if not outright despised him. How it had changed, and when it had, you did not know, but you knew that you had suppressed your desires for so long that it felt wrong to embrace them. It felt wrong to want him. It felt wrong to love him.

Especially when Park Yi-Jae was still in the picture.

The notion cooled your senses, and you instantly withdrew after you had returned Jungkook’s glasses to his face. He appeared to have noticed your sudden change of demeanor, for his brows furrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

He was waiting, you could feel it.

You wordlessly went to the kitchen. He followed you. The atmosphere was stiff, awkward, which was ridiculous and stupid since you knew you were the culprit of it. Why did you have to be jealous? Why did you have to show that you were jealous by confronting Jungkook about him and Yi-Jae?

Why couldn’t you just trust him?

You sank down onto one of the bar stools. “Jungkook,” you began slowly, uncertain as to how you should approach the issue. “I have something I need to tell you.”

He perched next to you, his familiar brown eyes expectant - but also a bit wary.

“It’s about my parents,” you began. “Or to be more specific, my dad. He… he was diagnosed with this incurable heart disease. He decided to retire from his position as chairman at Phoenix, and moved to Jeju Island with my mom today. He won’t be coming back to Seoul anytime soon.”

“What?” exclaimed Jungkook. “But what about--”

He cut himself off when he saw the answer in your eyes. A frown tugged at the corners of his lips and he grasped your hand. “You can’t run a company, (Y/N)! What about university? And your mother is capable of running Phoenix Inc. alone, isn’t she? Why can’t she do it?”

You proceeded to tell Jungkook everything you had discussed with your mother. At several occasions, he looked like he wanted to interject, but by the end of your explanation, his lips were pursed tightly together.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, both of his hands holding yours. “I hope your dad can rest now that he’s in Jeju.”

You nodded, but the knot in your stomach didn’t unwind. You knew why. Despite the relief that rushed through your system after having told Jungkook about your predicament as the new “CEO” of Phoenix Inc., that had been the easiest subject you wanted to bring up that evening. Now came the hard parts.

“You know Jung-Hyun is still working for us here in Seoul, right?” you asked.

Jungkook, whose familiar brown eyes had been overflowing with sympathy until that point, suddenly stiffened. “Yeah. I’m guessing it’s because you never told him about us.”

It wasn’t an inquiry; it was a statement. And a statement you couldn’t deny.

“I think he’s going through something tough right now,” you said, unable to put any other word on Jung-Hyun’s situation, which you still did not know more about. “And I think it would help if you and him got on better terms.”

“What do you mean, ‘something tough’?”

Jungkook’s eyes were cool now, and his tone hovered on the brink of hostility. The grasp he had of your hands also loosened, and you felt the suspicion in his words.

“I don’t really know,” you said truthfully. “Hopefully, it’s nothing too bad. I’m having dinner with him this Friday to find out more about it.”

Jungkook scowled, and old fury sparked inside both his eyes and voice. “You’re having dinner with him? When you and I barely have time to talk over the phone?”

“It’s not like that,” you said with a frown. Your heart was beating faster and faster, and the knot inside your stomach wrung itself even tighter together. “It’s just a normal dinner. Friends can have dinner too, can’t they?”

Jungkook let out an incredulous laughter and released your hands. “You can’t be serious with that argument. Firstly, you’re not friends. Secondly, he still thinks you’re engaged! Why can’t you just tell him the truth and have coffee instead? And haven’t you two already spent hours together yesterday and today? What did you two do during all that time that stopped you from talking about my brother’s supposedly tough situation?”

Your frown deepened. “Are you actually accusing me of cheating on you?” you demanded, anger and disbelief making your voice low.

“What else kind of explanation is there?” Jungkook rose from the bar stool, seemingly too agitated to sit still. He started pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor, eyes still filled with old rage. “You’re clearly hiding something from me since you don’t want to tell Jung-Hyun that you’re mine.”

“I’m not a possession,” you said through gritted teeth. “And there is an explanation, but it’s complicated and difficult and I want to wait with it until I have everything clear for me.”

“There you go again about how hard Jung-Hyun is having it. You care about him more than you care to tell me. How else am I supposed to interpret this other than that you’re unfaithful?”

You should have probably kept your temper in check and asked for Jungkook’s forgiveness while you told him another half-truth, half-lie, but you didn’t. The mere fact that he had just accused you of something so horrible like cheating would have been aggravating in a normal relationship, but you two had history and cheating was a huge part of that. It would be an understatement to say that his implication infuriated you.

“You shouldn’t interpet it at all!” You balled your hands into fists in a vain attempt to keep your voice - and temper - down. “You should just trust me like I’m trusting you with Park Yi-Jae! You don’t hear me being all jealous and stupid about your duet with her - and the fact that you failed to mention that that collaboration ever happened.”

You hadn’t meant to sound so passive-aggressive, but that’s what came out of your mouth. You wished you had been able to reign in your anger, that your boxing classes were helping you with not only your stress, but with some of your emotions, too, but it seemed like you were still ways off. Either that, or this anger was simply not something you could punch away.

Jungkook froze, mid-step, and his attention turned to you. Genuine fear overshadowed his fury, at least momentarily. “How did you find out about that?”

His question made you, if possible, even more annoyed. “Did you actually think I wouldn’t hear about it eventually?” you wondered instead of answering.

“I was going to tell you.”

“When?”

Jungkook’s gaze hardened. “When were you planning on telling my brother about us?”

“Is there even an us?” you said before you could think.

If the atmosphere in the kitchen had been awkward and stiff at first, it turned frigid as soon as that sentence left your lips. You averted your gaze, ashamed over having said those words, but still too indignant and offended to take them back.

And so, you didn’t say anything when Jungkook stalked out of your parents’ apartment with nothing but a long stare as goodbye.

#MCAF #Ao3 #Wrienne #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts jungkook #Jeon Jungkook/Reader #Jeon Jungkook #Reader-Insert #MCAF2 #My Cheating Amnesic Fiancé 2

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