#health web stories | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghostjelliess · 4 days

Text

TL;DR:

I wrote this story about two people climbing out of different kinds of abuses/traumas because I really hate the common romanticization of poverty and miscommunication that ignores the rippling effects it has on individual identities. But also because both hope and healing are practices that so often begin in the shame and humiliation of self-reflection, and in the space between two people trying to love despite their walls and scars, sometimes it's not toxic, it's just trauma, and it takes a little more than courage to fight themselves to get back to each other.

Still TL;DR [plain text—i.e. not trying to sound fancy]:

I'm bitter about authors using poverty as a story setting and never addressing the actual shit you have to get through to even start the climb out (from personal experience, not trauma-p00rn); and also when Fiancé and I were at our worst, the general advice, despite our actual adult problems (unexpected joblessness, moving states, major health issues (the big-C and others), etc.), was always some version of "it's time for a breakup" and that just really pissed me off. So I thought, now that we're pretty stable and happy on the other side (it's going on 13 years now, for context), a lot of people must also be struggling with the difference between toxic relationship and individual traumas, and it turns out this is the basic theme of all my work because I'm so much healthier as a person but still a bit rage-y at the give up mentality. Especially now that I have the "happily ever after" or whatever bullshit on the other side of all that healing to prove that it was worth it. You don't just get a ride-or-die partner, you gotta forge that shit, and it sucks, and it hurts, and it's not fun, and I'm sick of stories making the first kiss so hard and everything after easy. So here: the first kiss is easy. The fifth? Harder. The tenth? Impossible. The twentieth? Let's see.

The Long Version:

I actually started writing the idea of this story in San Diego in 2015, after a friend and I had a long conversation about growing up in different kinds of extreme poverty, and the role religion and culture had on navigating it (him in São Paulo, me in MI). We talked about how irritating it was to come from these places that ripped us to pieces to leave, but corroded those who stayed—the weight of the choices to leave dependent families, and the loneliness that followed. We both ended up in southern California the same way, escaping the same pasts for different reasons, seeking hope and stumbling on opportunity.

We talked about what it meant to recover from that kind of poverty, especially with partners who could only viscerally relate, and how hard it can be to balance our new selves and relationships with the old world left behind, when the people we loved the most or the longest still remain there. How do you rebuild yourself when you recognize your armor is made only of rage you can't put down? How do you return to that conditional home if you don't want to cut them off entirely, only to see them willingly breaking down more and more, even as you know you can't save them. What do you do with the guilt when you outgrow it? How do you reevaluate yourself and your past choices when your present identity would no longer make them, but you can't regret them either. How do you process shame when it's not really yours, but something taught to you, embedded in the core of you, and when you rip it out and nothing happens—how do you escape the hatred or pity for the people who planted it there?

I've always been fascinated by human change and our obsession with identity as a result of survival. In my own relationship, I struggled to forgive my worst self, even when my partner had already moved on and was encouraging me to be the person I wanted to be. We hurt each other in love. He and I used to use the metaphor of porcupines getting too close, quills stabbing accidentally as we worked through our traumas. There's a lot of past trauma between two people sometimes, it might even be what made them pause and look deeper at each other in the first place—because someone finally understood them, and by the time they meet each other in the middle and decide to move forward together, they don't always have it figured out on their own yet. Lord knows we didn't. It can look toxic, it can even be toxic sometimes, but like people, relationships change and grow.

I'm not advocating for toxic relationships by the way, especially not internet-toxic. I'm saying that sometimes processing our own traumas poorly and coping with mechanisms meant to survive, not grow, made us individually toxic to ourselves, which added poison to the environment as we shifted around each other and tried to breathe. I read somewhere that most couples only have 5-7 actual discrepancies between them and all of their fights can be filed under one larger issue that's being worked out as they build the universe between them, but we were constantly navigating BIG stresses (moving states, cancer-scares, sudden homelessness due to research grants being cut, always something), so before we could work out those basic identity clashes, we had to get to a stable enough places to heal and understand our own identities, then work through whatever those few big fights were about communication and commitment and plans for the future. Now we're pretty happy, it's not that life is less chaotic, it's that we trust each other to navigate the storm, so there's less doubt and fear and stress when the waves get choppy, and we know what we've already survived together, so there's also pride and a little excitement about facing new kinds of weather (except the doldrums, we both agree those suck, but we no longer stir the water with fights just to get moving, so that's #growth if I ever saw it).

So here's to the people climbing out of poverty and looking to live away from the cold edges. Trigger warnings from my own experiences and a few shared by friends, but those CWs are for poverty, violence, abuse, and the humiliation of healing and facing ourselves, for depression and loss of identity that I cried through while editing because it belonged to me once and I gave it to a character who isn't real, and still felt guilty. The m/m lgbtq+ relationship is never the center cause of trauma, not out of ignorance, but because after talking to several lgbtq+ friends and acquaintances, I think there's enough in the world, and it's also not my trauma or experience. For me, I already knew the shape of my person, regardless of whatever their actual body looked like, and so I recognized him when he appeared, but it was so hard to keep. I wanted to write a story about the hardest part of the keeping: the believing in a future after growing up believing I wouldn't have one. But there is a shared sentiment of parental disapproval of a partner, of the expectation of who is allowed and who is not, and a projected corruption of love that so often gets handed down or not survived.

Before you roll your eyes at the dramatic depictions of futuristic violence alongside technology, please understand that where I grew up, there were gun fights at the playground, stabbings and hold-ups at a record meant for big cities, not small ones. There were affiliated gang wars, so you wore mostly grey and said it was your favorite color, and left home prepared not to return, just in case. My district high school had an 86% drop out rate (that's a 14% graduation rate, but that number gets broken up into 4 and 4+ years), so I got sent to a far-away school with kids I didn't live by, and spent summers at work or up north at the farm to keep away from the chaos, which was a privilege in many ways, but also meant I didn't keep friends through the summer. I started every school year as a stranger. I had free hot lunch but that didn't include the salads, just the greasy carbs I gave away because I have digestive problems that went unchecked (I was a Miracle Baby™ but also the cause of a marriage that maybe shouldn't have). Our family was a mess of hierarchy orders passed from aunties and grandmas, playing mom for siblings and cousins, prepping dinners alone and learning all the ladylike ways to clean up after, between lulling sermons about women's original sin and fault and a bunch of misogynistic/culty/SA personal traumas I don't wanna talk about here that are irrelevant to this work. I had health issues and teeth problems, and thought I might as well go to university since I worked for great scholarships, and figured I wouldn't get past 30 years old anyway.

The governor canceled the state scholarship ($18k) after university enrollment was processed, but kindly allowed for delayed FAFSA applications, what a total sweetheart. I studied forensic anthropology for a while and answered exam questions about all the ways my teeth would kill me before I completed my degree since the hood had left me standing. I learned how all the people I'd seen die had been ripped apart by calibers and steel tips, and found closure in the analysis of bones, no longer haunted by neighborhood ghost stories because now I understood how to piece them together from the remains, but I also learned why those stories weren't ever in the news—because the corruption ran deeper than the poverty.

I learned about genocides, and mass graves, and ancient burial practices, and all the ways humans grieve the same, and then I studied other things like homeless networks, and linguistics, and why this one shelter had such a low recidivation rate (this was my thesis and, if you're curious, it was [arguably] because recovered individuals volunteered in such high/regular numbers as an emerging rite-of-passage expectation that provided hope to new occupants while simultaneously retaining the context of what those volunteers didn't want to go back to (consistently reminding them of what they recovered from or overcame), while other shelters focused on removing individuals from their homeless-network out of fear of that temptation/context, which isolated them and increased the return to past behaviors). I was so far behind my peers by graduation, it was laughable, they had health insurance and reliable bodies, I had broken ribs and ankles and teeth, broken car, broken networks because I spent all my waking hours between three jobs and 19 credit-hours so I could graduate as soon as possible and not get more of those heavily encouraged FAFSA loans, they hadn't even searched whether their loans were inheritable or not before taking them; they didn't know what the giant phone-book-sized scholarship reference books at the public library were; they had no context of their privilege, and honestly, at the time, I had little understanding of my poverty or privileges either. But when I finally left, it was with a person beside me who wanted to explore with me, who wanted me to live past 30, and I'd never considered that an option before, but now I wanted it too.

This is becoming a personal history bordering on a love letter, but it's been a long road of mental recovery, of feeling behind, of being hurt by things I'd never considered problematic as I continue to grow and reframe myself in the world. Of casually referencing something I thought was funny or normal and registering the shock or horror on a friend's face and thinking: oh noooo, Krista, you done fucked up, that's one of those messed up things you're not supposed to talk about, like the blowflies, or that saliva is filtered blood. Now I'm 33 and healthy for the first time in my life, just in time for grey hairs to start (the big streaky patch faded after the last surgery healed, it's fine; I only freaked out a little), and I just wanted to get a story out in the world on my own terms. I didn't think too hard. I wrote it by hand (8 Muji notebooks in a row!), then edited while I typed, then posted! It was scary. I usually edit it into a grave. I'll probably come back to edit Part I after finishing Part III.

Is it the best thing I've ever written? No, but I think it's one of the most honest. Poverty sucks the hope out of people and sometimes they remember what hope feels like, but they forget to teach their kids. Sometimes they blame their kids for taking it; sometimes they saddle their kids with getting them out of it. We so often glamorize life on the edge: do or die, ride or die, live fast die young, Achilles our eternal idol, but it's exhausting. So I started plotting out a few storylines that start in those attractive, gilded spaces: the mafia boss, the gang lord, the street racer, the drug runner, the hopeful academic betting it all on their own fading prodigy, etc. and then I stripped away the glitter and neon glow and thrumming bass that all cover up the open wounds, and I gave them bandages and each other instead.

I hope you like it.

If you come from a similar place, I hope you recognize it: the growth you did, the work you're doing, the energy you spend on hope that others got for free. And if you're in that lonely place of just facing your worst self, of realizing how heavy the guilt or shame or grief is no matter where you came from, please remember that you can grow around it, you can be stronger than it, and when it's too hard, you can set it down for a while. Healing is humiliating, there's no other way around it. But it becomes a powerful compost—you can grow whatever you want out of it. That's what keeps me turning the soil to be honest, the curiosity of what will grow. So far it's empathy, and love, and a hope like dandelions.

I hope you keep growing, despite the journey or because of it, I hope you prevail too.

☆

Writing and publishing are two different things. I wrote this story slowly in my head, then all at once with a billion pens and seven notebooks. I typed and edited and drew covers and posted all at once. It’s a challenge to myself, to get my work out of myself. I did not hold it to the same expectation as the work I am querying or hoping to traditionally publish. I did not edit it fifty times. Not because I don’t value it, but because I struggle with the toxic side of perfectionism, and I’m working on meeting myself in the middle. I will fix errors as I go, I will find typos and things that I can’t fix as it stays, and I’m working on accepting that it’s okay. It’s okay to love something messily, it’s okay to share something imperfectly, it’s okay to connect hopefully. So while it’s not nearly as big or grand a reason as why I wrote this story, I published it to this website because I need to practice revealing myself and my work, and wow, it’s hard.

But I am also posting it because this whole world started with Y (who you haven’t met yet if you’re reading this in order), which was a letter-filler for a character I didn’t have flushed out yet, and that just became her name. We’ll get to her story eventually—I have a little more personal healing to do before I can write out that one. Whenever I’m self conscious about posting characters to the void, I just think of some of her manically unhinged one-liners and the pride overwhelms the fear and I feel good about it again. I hope reading these characters as they grow makes you laugh and cry as much as I did writing them! 💖

0 notes

padhega-india · 2 months

Text

Stay Updated with Entertainment News in Hindi by Padhega India

Padhega India is your one-stop source for all the latest news and updates across various fields. Our platform is designed to cater to the diverse interests of our readers, providing them with comprehensive and timely information. One of our most popular sections is dedicated to entertainment news in Hindi. Here, you'll find the latest updates on Bollywood films, television shows, celebrity interviews, and more. Our entertainment news in Hindi ensures that you stay connected to the glitz and glamour of the entertainment world, all in your preferred language. Our skilled team of reporters and editors works round the clock to bring you the most accurate and engaging stories. Whether you're a movie buff, a TV enthusiast, or simply someone who loves to stay updated on celebrity news, Padhega India's entertainment section has something for everyone. Visit our website today to explore a wide array of articles, reviews, and exclusive content. Stay informed and entertained with Padhega India.

0 notes

elomations · 3 months

Text

“If you wanted to you would”

Tw: Emotional Abuse and Manipulation

I am going to be sharing a collection of comic panels illustrating my experiences through an emotionally manipulative/abusive to show awareness of how subtle it can be,so others can protect themselves (and art is therapeutic for me and I want to share my pieces). Emotional manipulation and abuse isn’t just insulting you to your face it’s the subtle things as well like making you feel like you’re not doing enough or trying to isolate you from family.

#art #vent art #emotional abuse awareness #ilustration #web comic #panel art #therapy art #mental health awareness #my story #digital art #digital drawing #digital illustration #digital painting

0 notes

thestarlightforge · 5 months

Text

“Gentle Animals”

5/1/24

******

Love is wild, bro. You can be struggling, feeling like you’re holding on for dear life, like you’re barely getting by. Then, a friend texts you something funny and validating and relatable, and instantly it’s, “Damn. I’m not alone. There’s the magic, maybe this is the right timeline,” etc.

Like, we really are communal animals. We’ve constructed a series of systems in which we can technically meet most of our bottom-level Maslow’s needs without genuine love or connection. But we are not built for solo journeys. We can survive, sort of—check off our physical safety and physiological necessity boxes—but to LIVE, we need community. We need to cherish and be cherished.

Maybe it started out as an internal filter to judge whether Grok the caveman would guard your food or kill you in your sleep. But somewhere down the line, we became creatures where life doesn’t feel worth it unless we feel understood, like we have people in our care web who want to hold our hands. And I think it’s kind of cool that after 40 thousand years, it feels just as warm when you tell a loved one, “I was brave and did something that scares me today, though I hope it won’t be so scary next time,” and they say, “That thing scares me, too. I’m proud of you.”

❤️

#Fiona’s Art Journal #short story #journal #maybe we aren’t so bad as a species after all #love #friendship #connection #community #interdependence #care web #access intimacy #mental health #lgbtqia

0 notes

lyralit · 1 year

Text

ways to start writing more efficiently

stop writing with the word count on!

use a font like comic sans -- trick your brain into thinking that it's not important, that the writing can be stupid, if it's in a stupid font (if you can't tell i despise comic sans)

time yourself to get to a goal

or give yourself a certain amount of time

quantity >> quality in the first draft(s)!

jot down what you want to happen in that chapter

try organizing your writing (nanowrimo, for example)

do *not* reread! it doesn't need to make sense, it just needs to be there

try not to stick yourself to something you saw on tumblr. what works for someone else doesn't necessarily work for you!

take breaks. time those breaks.

practice writing short stories / oneshots of your characters.

try getting all your writing done within a certain goal (as much as I can for 30 minutes) rather than writing 5 minutes on or off

write down every little wormy idea that comes into your brain! sure, it's probably for a different plot, but maybe you can work it in somehow?

on that note, mash elements of your plots together rather than starting a whole new story

see maybe what little writing competitions you can submit your work to

proclaim your goal to the wide web for some peer pressure

rewards yourself. cheer on every thousand-word milestone. brag to your friends that you've written something, anything.

don't think of the big goal—don't think of publishing, or posting, etc. think of the end of your chapter, the development of your character, where it goes.

switch your writing environment! where are you most productive?

make a playlist only for when you write. never for anything else.

getting off tumblr, probably.

have people remind you of your goals.

remember that it all comes with discipline, but also your mental health is the most important!! don't sacrifice half your sleep to meet your nanowrimo goals. try to recognize when it's taking you too long and close the document. do something else. come back later.

take care of yourself. <3 use this post as a breather (or reminder to start!)

#lyralit #creative writing #writers #writerblr #writers block #writblr #writing prompts #writing #writing ideas #lovely person <3

7K notes · View notes

gyanibaba01 · 2 years

Text

Best Health Web Story

best health web story, this article is for you you can read this story

#health web story

0 notes

trivitronseo-blog · 2 years

Link

This web story describes Newborn Screening, and the type of Newborn Screening

#web story #newborn #newborn screening market #health & fitness

0 notes

hrdenha · 11 months

Text

— little love | l.hs, s.jy

synopsis: there you are in between of the two of your favorite people, so caught up in comfort that they gave after a long, tiring month. well, feeling your holes getting filled by them wasn't a bad idea either.

pairings: bestfriend!lee heeseung x reader x bestfriend!sim jaeyun

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! twisted little story thus, twisted heejake. reader is sleeping at first. somnophilia as a consented fantasy. threesome, oral s*x, penetr*tion, kind of has corruption k*ink.

AUTHOR'S NOTE — !

since it's heetober and soon to be jake-nover (?), i decided to write polysmut (? not sure if that's what its called). lol, who am i kidding? It doesn't have any connection with hee and jake's birthday month. i just want to lessen the growing number of this blog's drafts. this smut has been accumulating spider webs since last year so i decided to finally continue and release it. well, i hope you enjoy it and pls let me know what you think. i need feedback so MUCH

There's this unknown wet yet slippery feeling that was constantly pulling you out of your dreamless sleep. Your mind was somehow groggy, your head filled with empty spaces but it's rather heavy.

The wet thing travels all over your body until it stops on top of your nerve endings. As the heavy feeling in your head was slowly but surely lifted up while you woke up so were your senses.

You felt a pair... no, not just a pair but even two sets of hands stroking your body. One has you down there while the other dominates the uppers.

A thin line between pleasure and distraught was drawn. You can't help but sigh in comfort, doing so as if it were the signal that finally blurred the said line.

You huff, eyes trying to slowly open on their own, seemingly alarmed by the new fiasco inside your head. One can even feel the dust formed on your cornea from the long sleep you just had. Slowly, albeit surely. As though, you were afraid that this fine affection would vanish as soon as you woke up.

Oh, but you were wrong.

The room was dark and silent. Still, it has a familiar inkling. There's an opened yet volumed TV in the corner thus, it was the only one that lightens the room though in a minimal manner.

Right, you remembered. It's Friday night. Heeseung and Jake decided to visit you for another movie night of the month. You recall how you laughed at Jake's corny jokes with Heeseung while all of you had your favorite food and drinks on hand. How Jake pouted, complaining you forgot about them. Of course, you responded with a peer smile, which you don't want to admit despite it being true for some reason.

You're so busy these days with your college life that you don't have the time to worry about other matters. Thus, this arrangement also takes a toll on your health. And as much as you like spending time with both of them, you can't help but fall asleep. Being in between the two of your favorite people helped you be lulled into the arms of sleep. Completely oblivious about what comes next.

As your mind processes the daily events, you hear a moan in front of you. Looking down at the sound, you saw Jake wholeheartedly sucking your breast. The sight caught you off guard though, in a good way, your lips can't help but release a mewl.

The sound causes Jake to open his eyes, looking up to meet yours, something that makes your breath shake.

The darkness and lust lurking in his eyes fight in contrast to how fluffy his black hair comes undone just above, covering a little portion of his eyes. And, the way the moonlight shines brightly just behind him, makes him look more ethereal.

Jake smirked before releasing your right breast with a pop, "Little love was finally awake! I thought you were gonna miss the party just like what you always do"

You wanted to ask, but suddenly —

A chuckle was heard from behind— at the same time, vibration rolled over your back, "You're awake, y/n?" Heeseung whispered lovingly in your ear before sucking it.

"Wh-what?" You managed to let out, demented blood flowing in your veins as the two men before you released low laughs at your reaction.

"Are you loving it? Does it feel good, love?" Jake coo-ed, humming at the end of his sentence before licking your bare nipples with his soft tongue, eyes boring into you.

"We didn't forget about the promise we made last time, little love" Heeseung whispered, taking in your scent with his eyes closed, rubbing his hands lovingly on your sides.

"We told you that we're gonna take care of you and look how we're doing well" Jake cheered while still assaulting your breast. He said those phrase unconcerned, as if there's nothing wrong to begin with.

You didn't say anything but Heeseung felt your doubts and he's determined to blur it down. "Y/N..." Heeseung whispered, and you felt like heaven just stumped on you.

Why is he calling you by your name? It should be little love, right?

You hummed in protest, courage wasn't enough for your voice to come out. Despite this, the older of the two understands it without problem.

Heeseung smiled when his eyes meet with yours. Hesitation was nowhere found everywhere on your orbs. Not one bit.

Unconsciously, you put one of your hands behind his head pushing heeseung onto yours as both of you share a messy kiss. Tongue on each other, exploring every cavern of your mouth.

"Fuck, this is the hottest scene I've seen in my life" Jake whispered causing you to cut your connection with heeseung ang look at the man who just talked.

You were sitting so well-behaved on his hyung's lap, like a pretty canvas displayed for someone with artistic eyes, waiting to be worshipped. And that someone is Jake, the one who's vocally appreciating every curve and flaw you have with deep fascination.

Heeseung's tongue brought you back to the reality of land. His clapper traveled on your neck, right hand etching fine circles on your clit. His left hand prodded on your hips keeping you intact on his lap while Jake deliciously suck on your breast, his right hand playing with your left nipples whilst his left hand caressed your body lovingly leaving you breathless.

It was fucking crazy. You were going crazy. Perhaps, that's their unsaid vow and it is definitely effective. You just can't help but want more.

"hmm— S-stop..." Both of them stared at you further observing your reaction though their hands continuously doing it's god-given work.

"Oh, really?" The younger asks, "Do you really want us to stop?" You felt him pinching your buds painfully yet surprisingly, it just made you yearn for more. "Do you really want Heeseung hyung to stop playing with this?" He whispered, putting his finger inside you. His eyes held a mischievous glint at the sound it released.

You didn't answer but the way you swallowed your objections was enough for Jake to continue his rendezvous. He smiled at you, so sweet, so innocent. A smile he always gives you on a daily basis. It made you feel safe, made you melt in their arms.

"Do you trust Seungie?" Heeseung suddenly asked peeking from your side, his eyes bare an innocent hue. "Y-yes..." A flick was felt on your clit, making you flinch in pleasure.

"Then, do you also trust jakey?" He asked once again, and this time your voice came back in an instant, letting you shout a frustrated, 'Yes!'

Both of the perpetrators chuckled, humming with their honey-glazed voices while gazing at you with lust-filled eyes. Jake lick your nipples goodbye one after another before standing up. Heeseung then pulled his hands on your cotton shorts before lifting you up like a bride.

"Let's continue this in your bedroom, little love" Heeseung whispered pecking your lips.

The next thing you knew, the older of the two gently laying you back flat on your bed.

Jake immediately abolished your stubborn cotton shorts, panties still intact while he disregard the way your tight tank top curled on top of your boobs, which he causes because of Jake's lazy antics to push it up onto your chest to soothe the burning flame on his mouth a few minutes ago.

A pair of hands folded your legs up, not sure who it is as you keep your eyes closed feeling the comfort from every soft touch they did.

"Just like that, love... relax for me" You sure it's jake pecking your forehead his hands gently pinching your nipples, his mouth working on the sweet spots on your neck.

On the other hand, heeseung affectionately caressed your thighs. leaving soft kisses from inside and out, purposely not giving your pussy the attention it needed. You're despairing, from their touch and from the fine dust of lust they wanted you to feel.

There's no doubt that the two men hovering above you, want nothing but you begging for more. And their antics just proved effective.

As heeseung's soft lips travel on your right thigh, jake was taking his time leaving feathery kisses in between your breast. You had enough, whimpering to them as your hips unknowingly lift up.

Unbeknownst to you, so did they. The two of them know how to play this game. They can be patient as long as they need it, but the wet patch on your cotton panties was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Heeseung chuckled, "Someone's impatient..."

You opened your eyes, braving yourself to look straight at both of them. "Please..." As if on queue, a single tear slid down your face then came another staining your naturally blushed cheeks.

That made the men melt on top of you. Spewing nothing but affectionate words in your ears in an attempt to coo you. They wanted this. This is the moment they desire so bad and it's finally here.

You don't know how relieved you are when Heeseung slowly pulls your panties, leaving you with nothing and completely bare. One might feel vulnerable and weak if they're bare and the other party isn't. But surprisingly, Heeseung and jake ensure that you will never ever feel that.

A soft light lighting up the room, soft sheets around you building a soft wave together with your dark brown hair. You felt like an ancient goddess, ready to be filled with love from your loyal devotees.

Heeseung part your legs apart, like someone who's parting the sea. The cold wind made contact causing you to shiver, but heeseung doesn't faze. After all, Jake's up there ensuring your warmth.

"Delicious...", he whispered looking at your folds glistening with your juice. he brought his finger slowly entering you. "And, hot as fuck"

As heeseung did his business, so did jake. He released your lips, looking so proud of how swollen they got while you lay there with your head on the edge of the bed... waiting. Jake then steps back, eyes still on you or rather on your lips. "I want to feel that little mouth you have, little love." Jake whispered, unbuckling his belt. His cock springs out, the tip slapping on his navel with pre-cum oozing out of its head. It looks angry and pink.

"You have a pretty dick, jakey..." You absentmindedly said. That made the two of them chuckled.

"Then, can you help me out with my pretty cock?" You released a shaky 'yes'. "Open wide, little love" And, you did. You opened your mouth as Jake pushed inside. He was so thick that you gag immediately even before his tip reached your throat. And when it does, you feel like you're floating somewhere.

He started slowly, pumping his veiny and thick cock in and out with affection as if he's scared it might scare you. That made you relax. You didn't know having a dick inside your mouth can make you float somewhere.

But then, someone has to pull you down to from the heavens. You flinched when suddenly you felt a tongue on your sensitive clit, teasing it.

It's heeseung, practically torturing you and your pussy from the other side of the bed.

You were so focus on pleasuring jake that you forgot heeseung had you down there. Nothing to worry about though, it's part of the plan. You just didn't know it yet.

Heeseung then had enough, you felt his presence standing up towering over you. The clanking of metal on his belt was the next thing you heard aside from the groans jake was voicing.

"Hurry up, hyung. I can't take it anymore."

The older one didn't bat an eye, instead he immediately brush his cock on your folds tainting it with your love juices. Heeseung even got cocky when he decided to slap your clit with his dick, sending waves through your body.

"A little patient, Jake. I'm still having fun..." Upon hearing it, you softly tap jake's thighs that were still rutting in your mouth. Thankfully, he understands it as jake slowly pulled out.

You lift your head, gazing your eyes to heeseung. "Please, seungie. I need you inside."

The way you fucking beg. "Fuck. Alright, love. Can't say no to that"

Heeseung then, without a word sink deep inside you. "Ugh! Fuck, heeseung!" You moaned in pleasure.

"You're so tight, little love! So. Fucking. Tight." He groaned hovering over you before taking your lips.

"Okay, you guys. I'm gonna get jealous if y/n wouldn't give me her attention now." Jake complained as heeseung released your lips. "You're such a baby, jakey." You teased looking at him as you lay your head back on the bed, your hand taking his length and pumping it before opening your mouth.

The next thing you knew, both of their dicks buried inside you. They started slow and light then gradually picked up their pace. The way heeseung thrust deep inside you made your legs quiver. Jake wasn't letting you go, either. His pretty balls slaps on your nose every thrust making your breathing limited as the tip hits your throat and his free hand travels to give your nipples some attention.

"Fuck, y/n! You're taking me so well." Jake groaned, tracing the bulge from his cock that formed on your throat.

"She's clenching me so well. Our little love is such a slut." Heeseung added. "Are you gonna cum, love? Do you want to cum?" He asked, anticipating an answer from you even though Jake's cock was buried deep inside your throat.

You didn't need to answer though, heeseung knows. That's when he started putting pressure on your lower abdomen, feeling you clenching and moaning even though jake occupied your mouth. You moaned like you didn't care. The pleasure was intense. It feels so fucking good and you can't even scream. So, you moan even if Jake hits your throat with such precision. It sends continuous vibrations to his cock that made him a moaning mess on top of you.

"Naughty" Jake whispered, his hands making it's way on top of your throat giving it a little squeeze.

The pleasure then doubles as the sounds of groans, moans, skin slapping, and cussing gets louder and louder. The room practically smells like sex. You're getting dizzy from the intense pleasure their cock was giving to you. You're getting crazier, you even swear like passing out. The pleasure on your pussy and your throat meet at the center of your body. It didn't take long to feel the bubbling feeling inside you.

"You're gonna cum, love? Cum on my cock, y/n" Heeseung groaned still putting pressure on your lower abdomen as he mercilessly thrust inside you.

"Shit!" Jake cursed feeling your throat tightening more than ever. And before you know it, you let go. It didn't took long before the two men on top of you released their frustrations inside. Jake deep on your throat while heeseung deep inside you, mixing his cum with yours.

Jake slowly pulled out before letting his body fall beside you, giving you the chance to swallow his cum before trying to stabilize your breath. Heeseung on the other hand is still buried inside you, afraid that a drop can be wasted.

You tried to keep your eyes open and your mind alert. But, your body was the one complaining. There are black dots travelling across your vision and it didn't took long before you finally black out.

-------

You didn't know how long you sleep, you're still tired but you're also loving the comfort. You silently opened your eyes, as your throat unconsciously released a hum that you regret after.

You looked around, you're still in your room but everything was changed. Your sheets are new. You don't feel sticky or sweaty just like what you always feel after sex. You're on your favorite clothes which is heeseung's clothes, which is also very big compare to you.

The door on your room opened, revealing two men walking closer to you.

"Hey, little love. How do you feel?" Heeseung asked, taking a seat on your bed beside you while Jake took the part behind him as both of them put all their attention to you.

"I-m... fine" You tried to say but your throat still hurts. It's not a surprise though knowing how intense the evens earlier. So, instead of your full voice, you just tried to whisper it, trying not to irritate your throat more.

Heeseung then look at jake with sharp glares albeit jokingly, "Why are you so harsh and intense?" He questioned the younger one before hitting Jake's thigh that was place on top of your bed. The poor man yelp, screaming as he didn't anticipate the action of his hyung

Jake then pathetically put his arms up, "I'm sorry! Can't help it. And, beside..." But then, he put it down. His face now full of mischief with that teasing smirk, "Y/n loves it. Right, little love?"

You blushed but nodded otherwise. The two men chuckled, cooing at the way you got shy.

"You did good, little love" Heeseung whispered kissing your lips and Jake with your forehead. They both smiled at you as they started to take care of your needs. That's when you realized they have a food with them this whole time.

Breakfast in bed, just for their little love.

---------

FEW MOMENTS BEFORE YOU WOKE UP

"You think we pulled it off, hyung?" Jake whispered, eyes focused on your sleeping face.

"Yeah" Jake thought the Heeseung will say something afterwards but silence wrap the room.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure so."

"This wouldn't drive her away from us right?" Jake once again, asked. His voice suddenly filled with worry at the thought that they might've scared you away. They still haven't had the chance to propose to you the idea of that relationship, so what if you run away before they do that?

Heeseung clicked his tongue, finally meeting his younger friend's gaze, "Jake, relax..." he said patting the man's shoulder. "She's the one who request this from us. She love this as much as we love it."

Jake hummed recalling how you literally beg them to fuck you at the same time.

So, we're not the only one feeling this?

You don't know how long they've been waiting to make you sit there and just beg on their knees to allow them to fuck you at the same time. How relieved and happy they are when you're thinking the same thing.

Well, The only thing is that you're drunk when you said that. But that doesn't matter. As long as they give you what you need then that's what matter the most.

"... I just know this wouldn't be the last time we're doing this with her so, your worries shouldn't be welcome here" Heeseung said, now looking at your sleeping figure.

Jake smiled, tucking your hair behind your ears. "We're ready when that happens."

"Yes, we are. We always are."

— note !

since it's heetober and soon to be jake-nover (?), i decided to write polysmut (? not sure if that's what its called). And, who am i kidding? It doesn't have any connection with hee and jake's birthday month. i just want to lessen the growing number of this blog's drafts. this smut has been accumulating spider webs since last year so i decided to finally continue and release it. well, i hope you enjoyed it and pls let me know what you think. i need feedback so MUCH

#adiwrites #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen #lee heesung x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #lee heeseung #sim jaeyun #sim jake #heeseung #jake

1K notes · View notes

athena-the-storyteller · 1 year

Text

Yes, I am sharing one of my videos from Instagram…

I tried desperately to edit it in a dreamcore style and I have no idea if I succeeded lol

~♥︎~

Character is Destiny, from my comic On The Throne Of Dreams!

7 notes · View notes

naeverse · 4 months

Text

Tangled in his Webs

Art generated by: Niji • Journey Request from: @migueloharacumslut Ask: And I have a request I forgot rather I submitted or not. Mad scientist Miguel x therapist reader Miguel gets put in a psych ward because he got caught experimenting on people and himself trying to turned them in to spider people. He’s been in the psych ward for five years and he needs to be cleared to go back in the world. That’s where the reader comes in to clear him only he manipulates her into thinking he is sane. During their session Miguel becomes obsessed with the reader and little does he know she is obsessed with him too. At night she touched herself to the thought of him. When Miguel get out he finds her. Make the sex nastyyy, hard and rough little choking wouldn’t hurt either. Please and thank you ! 😊 A/N: I really loved this idea and enjoyed writing Scientist Miguel so much. Might write him more lol, but thank you @migueloharacumslut for the idea. Also this is the first part and a second one will be following this one, hope you enjoy!

💉staring: Scientist!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Therapist Reader

🩵preview: “I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?” He asked, his gaze never letting up and keeping its intensity. Due to his closeness, you almost missed his inquiry, but upon detecting it, it surprised you. Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his ideology and rejecting his notion. “N-No, I wouldn’t exactly describe you in that way, Dr. O’Hara.” You swiftly replied.

“You wouldn’t?” He asked, his voice low and slow. “So, how would you describe me, Doctor?”

🔬summary: As an evaluation therapist at Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing, you are assigned a new patient—one who is complex, captivating, and dangerously drawing you in more than you ever expected.

⚗️tw/cw (Just for this part): Big Dick Miguel, Bondage, Fingering, Masturbation, Psychopathy, Restraints, Sadism, Size Difference, Restraints

🔭Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Querida (Dear)

🩵Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

🥼Word Count: 7.7k

**This fanfiction is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real-life individuals or events is purely coincidental. It does not intend to diagnose or represent any real mental health conditions. Thank you for understanding, and I hope you enjoy the story.**

Your eyes fluttered open, consciousness slowly returning. You felt a dull ache and soreness in your throat, accompanied by a pervasive feeling of weakness throughout your body. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead and adjusting to the suffocating sterile scent of antiseptic, you noticed that you were lying on your back against a hard, cold surface.

With furrowed eyebrows, you attempted to sit up, only to be thwarted back by the metal restraints tightly bound around your wrists and ankles.

‘What the heck!?’

You thought, panic and fear beginning to grip you. Your eyes darted down to discover yourself clad only in your undergarments—a delicate white, laced satin set—leaving you exposed to the chilling breeze that consistently swept through the well-lit space.

You couldn't remember how you got here; your groggy mind unable to piece together the events that led to your presence upon the metal table. The faint hum of machinery echoed from far away, punctuated by distant murmurs that made your heart drop.

With dazed eyes, you looked around your surroundings to be met with the overbearing shade of a bright white that covered the walls of what looked to be a lab of some sorts. Countertops were lined with an array of perfectly arranged scientific instruments, machines, and beakers.

Shelves held neatly labeled containers, each housing an assortment of chemicals and biological specimens. Despite being well-lit, there were little to no windows present, intensifying the feeling of isolation within the controlled environment.

The place seemed devoid of humanity, replaced by a location where experimentation and analysis were handled freely without compassion or warmth.

But one thing about the lab really stood out to you: two jars sitting upon the shelves—one full of bloody red eyes and the other with abnormally sharp canines.

The sight almost made you vomit, hastily turning to look away. Your heart and breath were picking up, fear clawing at your being. Although how morbid the otherworldly body parts were, they triggered something in your head.

The more you thought upon it, awareness seeped in like an unwelcome guest; slowly, you began to remember.

The mental facility...

Red eyes...

The flowers...

Sharp canines...

Black glasses...

His release...

Him.

The wine...

Then darkness...

The memories came rushing back so quickly that you weren’t able to keep up, until it all came back to...

Him...

A wave of regret and stupidity overwhelmed you. Never in your life had you felt so worthless.

You should have known...

You should have fucking known...

‘He wasn’t well. He wasn’t fine. You were wrong, so wrong-’

“Good… You are awake.”

The bone-chilling voice of your captor filled the room, sending a familiar chill down your back. With trembling lips, you turned your head to see the backside of a massive male entering the room. His coffee-brown locks styled neatly upon his head, a white lab coat adorning his huge build along with black dress pants and oxfords.

The scientist wore clean attire, perfect for working in the lab, but his outfit was beyond your concern.

You knew who he was, but you didn’t want to believe it.

You gulped, watching him slap on a pair of white latex gloves upon his large, calloused palms before beginning to inspect the scientific tools that sat upon the nearby counter.

"And here I thought you would have been excited to see me again..." he said in a husky voice, responding to your silence—his Latino accent unmistakable, along with a hint of amusement found in his tone. You felt like an idiot for falling for him, for becoming so fascinated with a madman like him...

But you were still in denial.

You weren’t going to believe it was him until you saw his face...

“T-T-Turn around…” You said hoarsely, the pain in your throat distant underneath the layers of fear and anxiety coursing through your body. At your demand, the large scientist laughed. “Turn around?” He asked slowly, silence following his inquiry, making your body run cold.

Suddenly, he spun around, slamming his palms onto the metal table you laid upon. The abruptness and loud noise made you jump, and a gasp erupted from your lips. His eyes stared directly into yours, holding the same madness that you believed he had cured when you initially met him. But, like before, it wasn’t the insanity in his gaze that made your heart drop to the pit of your stomach...

It was his eyes...

His teeth...

The scientist’s crimson eyes looked down at you, taking in your discolored skin and half-lidded eyes that were still under a drowsy spell. “I turned around now, are you happy?” He asked with a playful smirk. “Do you recognize me now, dear?”

Your eyes widened, the look upon your face enough to show the mad scientist that you did, in fact, remember who he was— but you were too speechless to respond, causing the male to chuckle.

“Do I need to give you any more proof that it is I?”

His snickering seemed to reverberate off the walls of your mind as the fluorescent lights of his lab bounced off his razor sharp canines.

With trembling lips and dilated pupils, you looked over his face, your heart breaking more and more because…

It was, indeed, him...

The mad scientist...

The sexy patient...

Dr. Miguel O’Hara…

The man you fell for…

White, close-toed wedges clicked upon the mental facility's aged linoleum tiles, the floor's once-bright patterns now a faded, discolored mosaic covered with scuff marks and indistinct stains that revealed the struggles of all who shuffled through the dimly lit corridor. The mental facility, unintentionally, gave off an eerie atmosphere with walls clad in faded, peeling paint and ceilings with bright, flickering fluorescent lights that cast irregular shadows along the cold institutional floor, further giving anyone who traversed the halls the creeps.

You, a therapist meant to evaluate patients for release, were given a new challenge—a patient that held a sadistic background coupled with a remarkable intellect that made many wonders how he found himself inside 'Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing.'

Dr. Miguel O’Hara was your new patient's name, an intelligent scientist who became a little twisted after his discovery of gene splicing. In his pursuit of advancing the human race, he became obsessed with the idea and creation of spider-human hybrids. After many experimentations of creating what is referred to as mutates, he was unsuccessful. Before he could continue with his study, he was arrested and sentenced to seven years here at the institution where it seems he’d made progress.

Whilst you walked towards his cell, taking the seemingly endless halls of the asylum, you looked over his file. Inside were documents containing his personal information, such as full name, date of birth, emergency contact, and next of kin. In the brown folder were also his medical history, psychiatric assessment, diagnostic evaluations, and much more information collected during his time at the institution; however, there were four pieces of his folder that piqued your interest:

Observation logs, Treatment plan, Risk assessment, and lastly, incident reports.

You studied each of the documents to discover the important details that needed to be surveyed before seeing the scientist in person.

_____________________________________

Miguel O’Hara - Mental Health File

Patient Information:

Full name: Miguel O’Hara

Date of Birth: 10/13/2070

Appointed into: Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing

Admission Date: 11/10/2099

Emergency Contact: N/A

Next Of Kin: N/A

**The patient has explicitly communicated a desire for their next of kin not to be associated with their mental health treatment, and no detailed information about family members was recorded to respect the patient’s privacy.**

Diagnosis:

Primary Diagnosis: Psychopathy

Secondary Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder

Treatment Team:

Primary Therapist: Dr. Jessica Owens, Licensed Clinical Psychologist

Psychiatrist: Dr. Peter B. Parker, MD

Nursing Staff: Nurse Mary Jane Watson, RN

_____________________________________

Treatment Plan:

Medications

Fluoxetine (Prozac)

Dosage: 20 mg daily

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara is prescribed Fluoxetine to address symptoms of irritability that derives from his disorder of Antisocial Personality.

Lorazepam (Ativan)

Dosage: 0.5 mg as needed (PRN) for anxiety

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara is given Lorazepam on an as-needed basis to manage anxiety-related symptoms or impulsivity.

**Its used closely monitored due to the risk of misuse**

Lamotrigine (Lamictal)

Dosage: Gradual titration starting at 25 mg, with adjustments based on response.

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara’s treatment plan included Lamotrigine to help stabilize mood swings or emotional dysregulation.

_____________________________________

Incident reports

Date: 2/3/2100

Incident: Verbal altercation with another patient during group therapy

Action Taken: Immediate de-escalation and one-on-one session with Dr. Peter B. Parker.

Date: 6/21/2100

Incident: Refusal to take prescribed medication

Action Taken: Nursing staff provided additional support and education

Date: 10/3/2100

Incident: Refused to attend scheduled group therapy and became verbally aggressive towards staff members

Action Taken: Security staff was called to ensure the safety of other patients and staff. Miguel was later engaged in a one-on-one session to explore the reasons behind his resistance to group participation.

Date: 1/4/2101

Incident: 2nd occurence of refusal to take prescribed medication

Action Taken: Nursing staff provided additional support and education and therapeutic engagement by Dr. Jessica Owens to address any fears or misconceptions related to his prescribed medications.

Date: 4/18/2101

Incident: Observed by Nurse Mary Jane Watson of the patient hoarding various items in his room, including non-permissible objects.

Action taken: Staff conducted a room check, confiscated unauthorized items, and discussed appropriate belongings with Miguel. A follow-up session with his therapist, Dr. Jessica Owens was scheduled to explore any underlying concern.

Date: 3/21/2102

Incident: Engaged in a physical altercation with another patient during a recreational activity

Action taken: Immediate intervention by staff to separate the individuals involved. Both parties were assessed for injuries, and a report was filed. Increased monitoring and a review of Miguel’s treatment plan were conducted to address potential triggers for aggressive behavior

_____________________________________

Risk Assessments:

Current Risk level: Moderate

Factors: History of aggression, resistance to treatment, potential for manipulative behavior

Interventions: Increased monitoring, ongoing assessment for potential triggers

_____________________________________

Observation Logs:

Date/Time: 8/16/2102, 2:30 PM

Observation: Miguel exhibited signs of increased irritability during the group mindfulness session. Requested to leave the session prematurely.

Staff comments: Noted Miguel’s discomfort during mindfulness exercises. Alternative relaxation techniques were explored for future sessions.

Date/Time: 12/2/2103, 10:00 AM

Observation: Miguel was observed engaging in a one-on-one conversation with staff during morning indoor activities. Discussed personal interests and aspirations.

Staff comments: Encouraged Miguel’s open communication. Noted his ability to articulate personal interest, fostering a sense of connection with staff.

Date/Time: 2/15/2104, 6:45 PM

Observations: Spends most of his time in the facility’s library, engrossed in reading.

Staff Comments: Positive use of leisure time observed. Reading contributed to a sense of routine and engagement.

Date/Time: 6/23/2104, 8:30 PM

Observations: Attended the evening group therapy, contributing to discussions on coping strategies. Demonstrated empathy towards a fellow patient sharing personal challenges.

Staff Comments: Noted Miguel’s willingness to engage in group discussions and support peers. Positive progress in developing empathy and interpersonal skills.

**Miguel O’Hara has exhibited excellent improvement and staff believes he can be released in 2105, instead of 2107.**

_____________________________________

You closed his folder, taking a look at the photo that decorated the front. Like many patients at Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing (NYS-MH), Miguel O’Hara didn’t look like a dangerous individual; he was actually quite handsome—with dark, wavy locks that framed his olive, chiseled face and amber eyes shielded by a pair of black eyeglasses; Dr. O’Hara wasn’t a bad-looking guy.

To ponder upon the atrocities, he could have committed for the sake of science was baffling as you gazed at the photo. The more you inspected the image, the happier you became at the fact he was doing better - better enough to be released back into society.

It was why you were here, anyway…

You tucked the folder under your arm and continued your walk towards his room, passing steel doors that lined the corridor, each secured with heavy bolts and reinforced locks to keep the patients contained and prevent them from harming themselves or others. Occasionally, muffled echoes of distant cries and disjointed whispers seeped through the cracks, adding to the unsettling symphony of the troubled minds that dwelled within.

You've walked these halls many times, but there was something about today that really made your skin crawl. So, it was relieving when you finally found Miguel O’Hara’s room, number 209.

Two guards stood on either side of his door, present only for emergencies. With a deep breath and slight adjustments to the white top, black blazer, and bodycon skirt that covered you, you gave each of them a nod and unlocked his door with a key, entering Miguel’s room…

Upon stepping inside, you instantly took notice of the soft, muted tones of blues and greens dominating the color palette, bringing a sense of serenity to the room. The patient's sleeping area contained the normal necessities—a comfortable bed with crisp, clean linens and a modest seating area. The furniture was arranged in an open and uncluttered manner, with personal touches here and there by the patient himself or for safety precautions.

For his adoration for reading and science, a small shelf was placed inside his room, displaying a few books and a potted plant, offering familiarity to the scientist.

Your eyes shifted to the large, muscular male who sat upon his bed, dressed in a white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and slip-on shoes. His massive backside faced you as it seemed he was engrossed in writing, his huge hand moving gracefully upon the page he was working on.

You cast a glance at the camera positioned in the corner of the ceiling in his room, placed there for monitoring and to ensure the patient, and others remain safe. After making sure the camera blinks red twice, showing its activity, you approach him with light steps.

"Miguel O’Hara?" you called out to him in a soft voice, not wishing to disrupt him. All of his movements came to a halt, his body rigid as his large hand placed the pen he was using into the open journal before slowly closing it. You watched him set the book down beside him on the bed, wondering if the handsome male you saw on the photo would be the same seated before you.

It seemed you were watching with batted breath for him to turn around and when he did, the sight of him shocked you and made your heart skip a beat.

You knew from his photo, the male would be gorgeous—so attractive that if he weren't your patient, you'd probably gush over him from afar. But it wasn't his attractiveness that made your breath hitch.

He looked completely different.

He looked…

Otherworldly.

With a cold expression, you stared back at a pair of crimson eyes covered with black eyeglasses, a small smile spreading across his tanned lips, revealing a set of sharp canines. “You must be the therapist that is to evaluate me. Right, Querida?” He inquired with a hum, his deep voice holding a Latino accent.

You gulped at the intensity of his abnormal scarlet orbs, subconsciously clenching his brown folder in your hands and giving him a nod. “Y-Yes, I am,” you replied, stepping back to give the large male room to stand, and when he did…

He was like a giant…

The bed creaked at his ascent as his massive being towered over you, your head tilting up to maintain eye contact. Choking back how intimidated you were, you gestured over to the small seating area of two white cushioned chairs and a table in the corner of his room. “L-Let’s sit over here to talk,” you proposed, and for a moment, he just stood there, gazing down at you like a mere ant before his tight-lipped smile returned.

With an approving grunt, he stepped in front of you; with his powerful, long legs, it took him little to no time to reach the comfort area and settle down into the white chair, the seat creaking under his heavy weight. You followed behind him, moving to sit across from your new patient and shifting into a comfortable position.

When your eyes met the male's, his crimson eyes were already staring at you, lingering upon your body in a way that made you feel like a microbe under a telescope. You gave him a polite smile, shaking off the unsettling feeling that always rose within you when speaking with the patients. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Dr. Miguel O’Hara. My name is Dr. Y/LN, and as you’ve been informed, I am the therapist here to evaluate you for your release.” You explained sweetly, watching every part of the patient, who remained completely motionless, simply continuing to stare back at you with an expression devoid of all emotion.

“It’s nice to see a new face, doctor. It can get rather boring here,” he uttered, using his middle finger to push his black eyeglasses up the bridge of his broad nose.

You placed his folder down upon the table, turning it to not reveal his photo on the front; you've learned from past experiences that the sight tended to worry them. Bringing your legs to cross over each other, you clasped your hands, placing them on your lap. “Boring?” you asked with furrowed brows. “Why don’t we speak about your time here first, Dr. O’Hara? Is that okay with you?” The inquiry left your lips in a soothing tone, one that calmed most patients upon hearing it; but with this patient, you couldn’t quite tell—he hid his emotions too well.

“Well, maybe not boring…repetitive is a better word,” he corrected himself. “But, dear, I’m fine with speaking of my time here.” He replied with a smile, placing his hands upon the armrests and widening his stance. Your eyes drifted to run along his inviting toned thighs adorned by a pair of gray sweatpants that did little to conceal the curves of the muscles underneath.

You also took notice of his posture; taking a mental note of openness from the patient before you asked your question, “Well then, may I ask how you are doing during morning activities? It's stated that you prefer Creative Arts Therapy in the mornings, correct?”

He nodded, his sharp canines peeking out from between his lips as he spoke. “Indeed, mostly during Creative Arts Therapy, I write,” he explained in a deep voice. “I’ve grown to learn that to better settle my thoughts is to put them on paper.”

“And that is an excellent form of therapy that you’ve discovered for yourself, Dr. O’Hara. May I ask, what exactly do you write?” You asked, trying to ignore the faint sight of madness in his crimson orbs. “I write down my thoughts, ideas, and aspirations,” he simply said.

You hummed, giving him a smile. “How about future plans? Do you write about those?” At your question, he snickered, giving you a wry, dismissive head shake. “I…don’t write much on that,” he replied. “I’ll hate to get my hopes up,” he added in an amused, yet somewhat disheartened tone.

“Get your hopes up?” you inquired, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “May you elaborate, Dr. O’Hara?” The male nodded, his large fingers stroking the armrest of his chair in a deep caress. “I do not wish to anticipate that I will be released early,” his caresses of the chair never ceasing, and his eyes trained on his moving fingers.

You studied him, taking in his deflated voice and how he spoke in a slow manner. Your gaze shifted to take in the intricate motion his fingers moved upon the armrest as there were multiple reasons a patient would do such a thing.

He could be nervous, frustrated, impatient, or simply doing it to comfort himself. Recalling his mannerisms from previously, you could cross out your thought of him being nervous; the way the scientist carried himself was in a way of confidence that couldn’t be faked, so it left you with the last three—frustration, impatience, or comfort.

Without further observation, you couldn’t pinpoint his reasoning for his odd gesture, instead giving him a soft grin and replying to his previous words of anticipation. “I understand your concerns about getting your hopes up, especially considering that you were rewarded with an early release date based on your wonderful behavior as of late,” you sympathized, “So it’s completely normal to feel cautious about expectations,” you said, taking in the abnormally muscular male before you.

“But let’s explore these feelings, shall we? Let’s say you are released in the next two weeks; what would your life look like, Dr. O’Hara?” you asked, deeply intrigued by his answer.

A moment of silence filled the room after your inquiry, the doctor continuing to make intricate patterns upon the armrest with his finger before his red eyes returned back to you. A nervous chuckle rumbled from his chest—the sound restoring life back into the room. “Ahh, I always get stumped on that question. It's another reason I haven’t written much about it in my journal.”

You nodded, placing your hands upon your legs. “Well, let’s start small,” you proposed with a grin. “You seem to have taken a liking to the hobby of writing while staying here at NYS-MH. Would you like to expand on that?” Miguel gave you a thoughtful hum, his pointer finger continuing to glide against the armrest of his chair.

“I’ve…always wanted to write a book.” Your eyes snapped from his fingers to rest upon his chiseled face, surprise and amazement present upon your facial features at his desire. “Oh really? And what would that book be about?”

“Genetics, of course.” He chuckled, the mention of his past interest that caused his descent into madness making your heart skip a beat. Your eyes narrowed, the amazement fading from your being. You leaned back into your chair, keeping your composure.

“Are you still interested in Genetics, Dr. O’Hara?” Your inquiry being met with a nod from the patient, one that he didn’t hesitate on responding with. “I’ve worked in the field for almost my entire life and I’m exceptionally good at it.” He explained with a voice of knowledge in a low, deep whisper. “So why would I abandon my hard-earned skills and education?”

His reasoning on his maintained attachment to the field was an excellent one, but like many things, it could be a trigger; causing the once cured doctor to revert back to his old ways of sadism and horrendous acts for the sake of science. This potential trigger would not only bring harm to everyone once more but erase the hard work that Miguel had achieved at the mental institution to fix.

You cleared your throat before speaking. “I…understand your desire to write a book about Genetics. It’s an intriguing subject.” You said, preparing yourself to ask a question that would surely strike the doctor. “But considering the circumstance of your past experiments and the impact they had, how do you plan to approach the topic responsibly?” You asked, watching his reaction closely in anticipation.

After your question it seemed as if everything stopped—froze even…

You gazed at Miguel taking in his tanned face that stared back at you. His crimson eyes were empty behind his black frames and his posture was completely still in his seat.

You’ll think he was a statue…

“Dr. O’Hara?” You called out to him which seemed to snap him from his thoughts. His red eyes slowly shifted to you, his tanned lips pulling into a small smile.

“Responsibility, my dear therapist, is such a heavy word…” He said with a smirk. “But I wish to ask, what compelled you to work with the mental? It’s a challenging profession for those with weaker minds.” Miguel said, casting an odd aura upon the room with his every word. “I should know…many say they are for the discovery of science and when the time presents itself, they get cold feet.” He stated, his finger ceasing its movement upon the armrest.

It wasn't unusual for a patient to desire to ask you a question, but the way he gazed at you with his intense eyes and how his gravelly voice caused a shiver to run down your spine made you hesitant, which the patient seemed to have noticed. “I only ask since you handle your job so beautifully.” He complimented, his eyes taking in your seated position. “I only wish to know what led you here before me.” The words left the patient’s lips in an ominous manner, however, upon saying such a thing his olive face held a smile that could melt anyone’s heart.

His fanged grin, oddly, sent a wave of warmth through your being and caused you to forget your reply to his question. You shifted in your seat, trying to keep your composure and recall your departed answer. “W-well, I…umm… entered this field by the simple fact of being interested in psychology a-and the way the mind works.” You replied once you found the words, unable to hide the stammering of your voice due to how unnerving everything was becoming. Miguel nodded slowly, running his tongue along the tip of his fang, the action drawing your attention.

“Your interest in the subject of the mind is rather…fascinating.” Abruptly, he leaned up in his seat, resting his elbows upon his knees and invading your personal space. Your heart skipped a beat at his suddenness and at being able to see just how abnormal and captivating his scarlet eyes and sharp fangs were; it caused goosebumps to rise upon your skin at the mere sight.

“I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?” He asked, his gaze never letting up and keeping its intensity. Due to his closeness, you almost missed his inquiry, but upon detecting it, it surprised you. Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his ideology and rejecting his notion. “N-No, I wouldn’t exactly describe you in that way, Dr. O’Hara.” You swiftly replied.

“You wouldn’t?” He asked, his voice low and slow. “So, how would you describe me, Doctor?” He grinned, the fluorescent lights of his room bouncing off his sharp fangs as his eyes were filled with a hint of amusement, though it was impossible to ignore how it seemed he was toying with you.

“I…see individuals, like you, as people who have become lost in the darkness and just need assistance in finding the light once more.” You stated, his eyebrow raising and a chuckle escaping him at your answer. “A bold claim…” He said, his eyes tracing your figure and lingering upon how tightly you were now grasping your skirt.

“For a little thing like you…”

Miguel muttered imperceptibly that you almost didn't hear him. “E-Excuse me?” You asked in shock and with furrowed eyebrows causing the patient to snicker, shaking his head. “Just that your view is a unique way of thinking and a…intriguing one, in fact.” He said, leaning back in his chair and adopting a relaxed position once more.

“It’s really fascinating how intellectual you are, doctor.” He grinned. “Few possess the ability to navigate the labyrinth of thoughts of the mental. I applaud you on that.” Miguel praised, returning back to running his palm along the white armrest whilst giving you his undivided attention.

In your gut, you knew his recalling of the statement said previously was false, you were certain he said something that was out of the norm.

But could you have mistaken?

You took in his face, taking note of how he gazed at you. The scientist was attractive, and normally during your job you were able to ignore that appealing quality and complete the task at hand, but right now, it seems impossible.

The way his red eyes ran along your body like he was undressing you, made you blush. You couldn’t explain it, but you were stuck between your desires and your sense of reason.

You were aware of Miguel’s sadistic mannerisms and how there could be a chance he wasn’t fully well as he lets on, it was why you were here, but the longer you spoke with him, the more the task at hand was leaving you.

However, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease he gave you at times.

“M-May I ask how have you been feeling lately? Any changes?” You asked, changing the topic and settling your eyes upon Miguel once more to see him smirking. “It’s all been the same, doctor.” He began. “We have group therapies on Wednesday, daily morning activities and indoor activities…” He said, wetting his lips with the swipe of his tongue, the sight causing the tips of your ears to burn red.

Sometime while he was speaking, you shamefully zoned out to taking in how sexy he looked.

His white shirt tightly hugged his body, giving one a view of his hardened nipples, defined pecs, and washboard abs. Every curve of muscle was accentuated under the white fabric that teased anyone who saw. The muscles of his legs pressed against his gray sweatpants, and your eyes widened slightly at being able to make out the enormity that rested against his thigh. The sight causing you to bite your lip…

“Querida?”

The sexy patient called out to you, snapping you from your trance. “Y-Yes!?” You inquired, clearing your throat and taking a more assertive and relaxed position to try and dismiss your previous lack of professionalism. Miguel snickered. “It seemed you were off somewhere else…and here I thought that was my job.” He joked, causing you to chuckle nervously.

“M-My apologies. You may continue.” You replied, wishing to proceed as if none of that happened. Miguel smirked, his crimson eyes roaming along your body before his finger began to tap upon the armrest.

“In my leisure, I write in my journal, read, or tend to my plant.” He finished, keeping it short and gesturing to the bookshelf in the room that held a pot of beautiful flowers. You smiled seeing how the black flowers bloomed upon the shelf.

“May I ask, what is it that you write in your journal?” You asked, looking back at him to see his eyebrows furrowed. “It wouldn’t be ethical if I asked what you write in your diary, would it, doctor?” He inquired, causing you to instantly become regretful of your words. You casted him an apologetic look. “M-My apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No…it’s fine. Your fascination is interesting…” He trailed off, a tap of his finger following your words. You glanced back over at his plant once more, the flower really captivating you. “The plant is family to the Calla Lilies.” Miguel answered before you could even ask, looking over at you as you continued to inspect the plant from your seat. “Hmm…I’ve never seen a plant like this.”

“Because this plant, in particular, is very rare.” He explained. “Native to South Africa, Escape, is a very rare find.” Miguel said with a fanged grin. “It’s why I made it mandatory that it was brought with me when I was assigned at NYS-MH.”

You stared in awe at the abnormally black flower. This was your first time seeing a plant of pitch blackness that hadn’t already withered away, but Miguel’s next words grabbed your attention.

“But one day while tending to my flowers, I hit an…epiphany of sorts.” Miguel told you, causing you to cock your head in puzzlement.

His words intrigued you…

“May I ask what epiphany you reached, Dr. O’Hara?” At your question, Miguel gave you a look of appreciation and sincerity. “I understand that upon my arrival, I wasn’t…in the best state of mind.” He said with a sigh. “But after being here, I feel like I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?” You asked, bringing a small smile to his lips. “I…believe I’m ready to see the world again.” He answered, giving you a genuine look of certainty.

His realization filled you with gratification. You reached for his brown folder, believing he had, indeed, improved. The first major step for the patient was seeing that they were initially unwell, which the patient had achieved.

“I’m greatly pleased with your recognition of this epiphany of yours, Dr. O’Hara.” You said, holding his folder in your hands. “But I believe you are ready to answer some more serious questions.” You said, glancing up at him. “Are you ready?” You asked, seeking permission of his state of mind before proceeding.

With a nod from Miguel, you opened his folder, pulling out a few of his documents to begin asking more serious questions regarding them. “I’ve noticed in your next of kin that you asked for them to not be aware of your mental treatment.” You began, looking up at Miguel to see him already gazing back at you, his crimson orbs trained on you. The sight made your heart flutter. “M-May I ask how you would cope on the outside without your familial relations knowing of t-the treatments and necessary tools you've learned whilst being here?” At your inquiry, Miguel’s face hardened, his crimson eyes darkening.

“Well, you see, my dear therapist, family can be a bit…overwhelming.” He uttered, tapping his finger against the armrest once more like a metronome; his eye contact never breaking. “I’ve decided to take a more independent route for now.” He explained in a deep, slow voice. “But friends, colleagues—people who don't burden me with unnecessary questions about the past are who I seek.” He said, his voice holding a hint of coldness as his jaw clenched.

“Because, it’s important to focus on the present and the future, rather than the past, don’t you think…

Doctor?”

You gulped, his words seeming to have you in a vice. It was as if he had some kind of control over you, all of the rules and regulations you learned whilst being an evaluation therapist at NYS-MH faded from your mind. You couldn’t figure out what you found so enticing about him.

Was it the way he looked or behaved? How he seemed to speak with such intellect in a tone of voice that could lull one to sleep?

You were puzzled…

But you were certain something was happening, and it was greatly affecting you and your ability to think clearly.

You hesitantly nodded, clenching his folder and feeling your cheeks redden once again. “T-That is correct.” You agreed, not believing what you were saying. “I would understand your desire to look past your previous mistakes and move forward.” You uttered, trying to keep your attention on the patient.

“Indeed…Mistakes.” He smirked, a small chuckle passing his lips, his finger seeming to tap against the armchair after your words. Your eyes looked from his hand and to his face, studying how his coffee-brown locks blowned gently in the breeze from the vent overhead, and to his defined cheekbones and broad nose that made him even more captivating…

“Have any more questions for me, doctor?”

You jumped at his inqury, noticing you were just staring at him.

What the hell was wrong with you?!

A little disheveled, you fumbled through the folder for the next pages of information you sought, picking up his documents on his treatment plan of medications and his incident reports. “Umm…I-I wanted to ask about your medications.” You began, wetting your lips and holding the papers up to hide behind them. “T-There were two occurrences where you refused to take your medication. M-may I ask why you refused?” You asked, peeking around the paper to see the patient adjust his black eyeglasses upon his face along with the repeated thudding of his finger upon the chair.

“I must ask, how would you feel if someone took away your identity?”

“W-what?!” You asked in surprise, lowering the pages hastily. A laugh rumbled from his broad chest, giving you a clear view of his otherworldly fangs that made the pit of your stomach twist into knots. “You heard me, doctor.” He stated in a manner that was to be amusing but only made one disturbed.

“What if someone was trying to force you to be someone else? Someone you are not?” He asked, causing you to chew your inner cheek and ponder his question. “I…I guess I wouldn’t like that.”

“Indeed…” He replied. “Any creature would despise the fact of forced transformation of oneself. It’s the reason you cannot simply change a savage tiger to being a tamed kitten in your home.” The dark-haired male explained. “It’s because a tiger would always cling to its savage ways, it's what keeps them alive—it’s what they enjoy.”

“That’s…a great analogy, Dr. O’Hara.”

“Why thank you, dear.” Miguel replied with a smirk before his old expression shifted to hold furrowed eyebrows and a frown—a set of facial features that instantly tugged at your heart. “But…the true reason I refused my medication was because…” He heaved a deep sigh, biting his lip. “The depressants make me sleepy and tired all the time, and…the idea of having to depend on medicine to stabilize my irritability and emotions is rather disheartening to me.” He said in a sorrowful voice. “I refused them because I believe I can be better without them.”

You listened closely to his words, taking note of his concerns and feeling rather empathetic. “In all honesty, how would you explain your current mental health condition?” You asked, placing your compassionate eyes upon him.

He gave you a heartfelt smile, one that made your heart soar. “Like I said previously, I feel better, Doctor.” Miguel said in genuinely. “I’ve seen the errors in my ways and am deeply disgusted by what I’ve done to innocent individuals…t-too myself.” He said, looking away at the ground in shame.

“I wish to return back into society and start anew.” He replied. “Be the man that I’ve wanted to be—not some madman who allowed his idea to get too out of hand that led to the deaths of innocence.” Miguel professed to you with an emotional and hearty voice.

You nodded slowly as you noticed his scarlet eyes flicker down to your hands that held the brown folder. “Doctor…

May I?”

Dr. O’Hara asked, extending his large, calloused hand to you, seeking your palm. Your eyes widened, thickly gulping and looking back up to meet his red orbs that seemed to suck you in—enticing you to take it.

Physical connection with patients were strictly forbidden, but the sadden look of desperation upon his face led you to take his hand. You placed the brown folder upon the table before resting your hand in his large palm, and instantly yours looked to have shrunken in size. With a fluttering heart and belly, you met his eyes and instantly melted under his crimson eyes.

“Please, Cariño. I assure you, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

The patient affirmed, giving your hand an affectionate squeeze, following his heartfelt promise. Your breath caught in your throat at his genuine gaze and words.

From his evaluation, you couldn’t help but agree that he was ready…

He didn’t utter a word of sadism or show signs of insanity, revealing his first diagnosis of Psychopathy was treated or can be suppressed. He exhibited signs of sympathy for his victims, and also didn’t become angry at triggering questions, displaying that his second diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder was also cured or treated.

Like he said…

Dr. Miguel O’Hara was ready.

You gave him a small smile, placing your free hand atop of his as Miguel’s eyes shifted down to your kind gesture and back onto your face. “Okay…I believe you.” You said, caressing his knuckles with your thumb. “I’ll be sure to send in your evaluation report that you are good to go.” You told him, but as an evaluation therapist you weren’t supposed to say, but you couldn’t stop the words from spilling from your mouth.

Giving him a departed smile, you released his hands and collected your things. His touch still burned into your skin and left you yearning for more of him.

You felt his abnormal eyes on you as you went to the door. Suddenly, upon putting your hand on the doorknob, a cold shiver ran down your back—one that instantly made you come to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed at the unsettling sensation, causing you to bite your lip in nervousness.

“And Miguel…” You called out to him, using his name and looking over your shoulder at the dark-haired male. His tanned, chiseled face held an expression of hidden joy and interest as he turned towards you, his attention captured by your call whilst he remained seated in his chair

You clenched the folder tightly, hastily shifting your gaze to meet his scarlet eyes—the previous feeling of discomfort and unease vanishing.

“I-I hope you keep your word.” You said in a voice full of reverence. Miguel returned your words with a reassuring smirk, his sharp canines poking from over his bottom lip.

“You have my word, Doctor. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

After turning in Dr. Miguel O'Hara’s evaluation report and going home, the scientist was still on your mind.

The way the doctor looked at you with his beautiful red eyes from behind his black spectacles, with a gaze of interest, to the fanged smiles and smirks he gave you—merely thinking about it made your cheeks redden.

You bit your lip, feeling a need to cure this desire for him, but you decided to push it away. You couldn’t feel this way about him…

You couldn’t…

…

But you did…

Extremely…

You lay under the blankets of your bed, tossing and turning as every time you closed your eyes to sleep, he would fill your mind.

Especially the glimpse you got of his package.

How his massive member was accentuated underneath the gray fabric of his sweatpants, revealing how thick and long he was.

The remembrance made you drool…

It had been forever since you’d touched yourself. Being a therapist at a mental facility was a rather time-consuming job, and you weren’t really interested in the many men who tried to get your attention.

Until him…

Why did it have to be him of all people?

It was a guilty pleasure, that was for sure—to have fallen so hard for this doctor, your patient who had many wounds that still needed healing.

But oddly, his wounds only pulled you in even more…

You bit your lip, allowing your hands to begin roaming along your body, imagining they were his calloused ones—remembering how his large hands practically engulfed yours when holding his hand, and how rough they felt.

Oh, how good it would feel if they were the ones touching you.

Giving your clothed breasts a squeeze through your shirt, you moaned softly. Despite his past of being sadistic and cruel to others, you imagined him being gentle with you—caressing your body and touching you in a way that stole your breath every time. You arched your back as your thumb barely flicked over your pebbled nipples, drawing a whimper from your lips.

Your panties were heavily drenched in your juices due to your core's insistent pleas for stimulation and touch. Finally satisfying yourself, with a sharp tug, you pulled your panties down, freeing your pulsating pussy.

You breathed a sigh of relief, hastily getting into a comfortable position on your back and allowing your legs to fall apart. With closed eyes, you allowed thoughts of Dr. O'Hara to guide your movements.

His massive hand ran along your abdomen, teasing you with his skilled fingertips and trailing lower. A gasp escaped your lips as your fingers brushed softly along your throbbing bud and soppy folds, spreading your juices along the sensitive area.

You imagined Dr. O'Hara above you, his red eyes gleaming in the moonlight as he smirked down at you, pressing his large middle finger into your entrance. You moaned, feeling his finger filling your tight walls.

Whimpers escaped your lips at how good his finger felt inside of you, your back arching in desire for more of him. His smirk broadened at your eagerness, as he slowly drew his finger out to the tip before pushing back in, quickly finding a rhythm and keeping at it with each thrust.

Your toes curled, burying your face in your inner elbow as you continued to finger your wet pussy, wishing Dr. O'Hara was here, but imagining would have to do. It wasnt long before a heat began to pool in your lower belly, your breathing picking up.

"Taking my fingers so well, dear," Dr. O'Hara whispered into your ear, gently nipping along your lobe and throat, his fangs grazing your skin. You whined into your arm, his fingers picking up speed and hooking just right inside your pussy, bringing you to your blissful end.

With a loud cry, your thighs trembled horribly as your juices spilled in hot spurts, soaking your hand and the sheets underneath.

Your eyes fluttered close, trying to overcome the buzz that overwhelmed your body after your release. It took a moment, but when you caught your breath and your vision settled, you withdrew your fingers from your pussy, casting your eyes upon them to see that they, not Dr. O'Hara's, were covered in your juices. You exhaled in disappointment.

Despite how good it felt imagining it was him, you couldn't help wanting Dr. O'Hara in the physical…

"I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?"

As you lay there, still tinglinh from your pleasurable moment, his words filled your head, leaving you to ponder his question once more.

Did you believe him to be a puzzle that only you could solve? In the moment, you said no, but deep down, you wanted nothing more than to thoroughly fix him.

Like many patients upon being released, they still faced numerous challenges, including reentering society, finding a job, and avoiding triggers, after departing from NYS-MH.

He was going to need help, and with all your heart, you wanted to be there for him.

And you were going to.

No matter what…

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first part of 'Tangled in his Webs.' 😆I really enjoyed writing Miguel in this persona as it was different and honestly fun, especially with him being a darker character. It was rather new for me writing in this manner, despite some challenges here and there, I'm overall proud of the outcome and I hope you are too!

@migueloharacumslut, thanks so much for the request, and I hope you are even more happier that it's to be more than one part, lol. But once again, thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! 💙💙

<3 Taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @powerful-niya @szapizzapanda @mcmiracles @mreowmoreww @thedeva @jadeloverxd @lazyotakuofficial @migueloharacumslut @nattywatty @homewreckingwreck @kinkybandages @prazinos @huniedeux @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @anniee-mr @crimin4llyins4ne @lynxslokley @rice-wife @oharasfilipinawife @migueloharastruelove @rodriash002 @e1f-boi @user3732094737 @truth-dare-spin-bottles @taleiak @alurafairy

**If you are part of the taglist and didn't receive a notification, please check your settings and ensure that the tag notification button is turned on.**

297 notes · View notes

sapphicjackal · 1 month

Text

Bingyuan Soulmate au 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Shen Yuan told himself he would wait until the next day to read the web novel he found, Proud Immortal Demon Way. The web novel had only been uploaded for 20 days now, making it fairly new and unknown. It was probably only because Shen Yuan had searched with keywords that the exact webpage came up. So far it only had 4 chapters, each one being a reasonably sizable length.

Normally, this was the kind of story that Shen Yuan would truly enjoy.

It seemed intriguing and held great promise. The bits of world building that had already been sprinkled in were captivating and promising. Shen Yuan could see the makings of a great premise.

However-

The protagonist is named Luo Binghe, and this is a story of his suffering.

The first chapter starts with a baby, one abandoned to float down the freezing Luochun river during the coldest night of winter. Named Luo Binghe, the unwanted orphan lived on the streets. How he survived infancy was left vague, but he was eventually taken in by a poor washerwoman who had little to provide other than the love in her heart.

Luo Binghe wanted for nothing, even while having so little. He was spat on and bullied by the masters that his adoptive mother worked for, but he was content purely because he had his mother. She taught him to cook and she brushed his hair while telling him stories of peerless immortal cultivators.

She worked tirelessly to provide for him, all without a single complaint and wearing a warm smile. She saved meticulously for a long while to be able to afford a jade Guanyin pendant for her son, only to find out that the jade was fake. The heartbreak of it all took its toll, especially when there was no extra money for food and her health began to take a turn for the worse.

Luo Binghe had to beg for food to give her, and work to get her medicine. On the day she died, he went out to beg in order to get her a bowl of watery congee. He was beaten for the right to have a cold bowl of food, and by the time he returned, she was already dead.

From there, he lived another two and a half years on the streets until he turned 10, the minimum age requirement to take the test for the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. Renowned as the top cultivation sect in the world, it was also the only sect open for anyone to join so long as they had potential and were chosen by a Peak Lord.

Luo Binghe traveled up the countless stairs and threw all of his effort into digging a hole, wishing with all his heart to be chosen. He was overjoyed when a peerless immortal cultivator stopped before him, one who looked distinguished and elegant, dressed in greens and white. Luo Binghe was the only one chosen for the second highest ranked peak, Qing Jing Peak.

This should have marked the turning point for Luo Binghe’s miserable luck, the beginnings of something good.

The first chapter ends with Luo Binghe’s tea ceremony, with his new Master dumping hot tea over his head with a cold look of disdain. Luo Binghe’s tears mixed with the dripping tea while his Shizun scoffed at him, proclaiming him a worthless Beast. Shen Qingqiu tossed him his manual, telling him with a sneer to learn it well before kicking him out.

Things don’t get better.

The next day, Luo Binghe received his materials from the Head Disciple, Ming Fan. He was only given the worst of what they could offer, and he was barred from being allowed inside of the Disciple Dormitory. Luo Binghe was forced to find shelter in the woodshed which became his home.

It marked the start of the relentless bullying from Ming Fan and the other disciples. Shen Qingqiu had clearly marked the boy as a pariah, meaning the whole Peak left him to fend for himself. He was kicked out of lessons with some Hallmasters, and given endless chores that kept him from attending the classes he was allowed in. The only person who treated him kindly was Ning Yingying, but this only drew further ire from Ming Fan who had a crush on her.

Life was miserable, but Luo Binghe did his best to rise above it. He did his work, and he learned what he could. It took months for him to even be able to read his manual, but once he could, Luo Binghe threw himself into studying cultivation. Only. He didn’t know that the manual was a fake. One made to look genuine, but would waste the years of greatest potential for a cultivator, and could even lead to death.

The fourth chapter left off on Luo Binghe being whipped for hours because Ming Fan blamed him for messing something up. Luo Binghe was left bleeding in the dirt while his scum Shizun walked away.

Shen Yuan finished reading with a foul taste in his mouth, staring blankly at his phone screen long enough that it turned off automatically. Normally, this kind of narrative was one that Shen Yuan enjoyed. One where a protagonist starts from nothing and climbs their way to the top, then slaps their faces and takes revenge on everyone who had pushed them into the dirt when they were at their lowest. Shen Yuan liked YY stories, it was easily his favorite genre to read.

Maybe once this could have been the start of Shen Yuan’s favorite story.

Instead he felt nothing but sick.

His soulmate had told him pieces of this information, accompanied by all of the feelings that went along with it. Binghe had told him that his mother died close to three years ago, and how much he missed her.

Maybe if he found the story first, he would have seen Binghe as a protagonist first. Maybe he would have found it cool to be soulmates with a fictional character. It wasn’t even that hard for Shen Yuan to wrap his head around. He knows tropes very well, and a modern guy finding out he’s soulmates with a fictional character is a popular genre.

But-

Shen Yuan has spent hours writing to his soulmate for the past few days, in those snatches of time that Binghe manages to steal. He’s spent a few days getting to know his Bing-er in all of his earnest and sweet glory. Binghe was a true white lotus, born in the muck yet managing to remain pure despite it all.

Shen Yuan has spent 15 years loving his soulmate.

Ever since he knew of the concept from his parents. He’s been writing to his soulmate since he could hold a pen, first it was nothing but the sloppy scrawls and doodles of a child, but he learned quickly to write. Literacy had extreme importance in society, and children were taught to read and write as soon as possible so they could communicate with their soulmate, especially among those with wealth.

Binghe has been at the end of every message.

Even if they’ve only known each other for a short time, Shen Yuan has cared for his soulmate his entire life.

Binghe is more than a protagonist.

Shen Yuan didn’t manage to sleep a wink. The first half of his night was spent reading, and the second half spent waiting for Binghe to wake up. He knew Binghe rose with the sun, and so he only had a few more hours to kill while waiting. He flipped through tabs on his phone, opening and closing apps restlessly.

Shen Yuan doesn’t think about his soulmate being abandoned at birth. He doesn’t think about years of getting tormented by those around him. He doesn’t think about a confession laced with pain. This one likes Qing Jing Peak. Qing Jing Peak does not like this Binghe.

No.

Shen Yuan doesn’t think about it at all.

He lost track of time, flinching in surprise when he finally felt the tingling swipe of a brush on skin. Shen Yuan sat up in bed and turned on his lamp, fumbling for his marker. He couldn’t help his smile at Binghe’s words even if he tried. All of the suffocating heaviness was lifted all at once, leaving him feeling light and unburdened.

“Wishing Yuan-ge a happy day!” Binghe had written, his brushstrokes precise and careful, words filled with happiness.

“Good morning Bing-er.” Shen Yuan responded, returning the sweet greeting of his little white lotus of a soulmate.

Shen Yuan bit his lip, staring down at his arm. He had thought about what to say for hours now, so he pushed back his strange hesitation and began to write. “You told me you had trouble cultivating, I thought about it last night. The most important part of learning is cross referencing. Is there any way you could look at someone else’s manual?”

“Yuan-ge?” Binghe wrote, shining with innocent curiosity.

“Make sure your material is real. People could be trying to hurt Bing-er with fake material.” Shen Yuan asked, full of worry and suspicion.

“This one will check.” Binghe responded, he felt faintly skeptical, but completely truthful. It took a heavy weight off of Shen Yuan that he didn’t even realize he was carrying.

“Thank you, Bing-er. I hope I’m wrong.” Shen Yuan wrote, feeling utterly relieved though it was threaded with an underlying anxiety.

Shen Yuan went through the rest of his day with Binghe’s situation lingering in his mind. He ate breakfast the chef made with his mother and meimei, both his father and his older brothers already left for work. He went back to his room and did his schoolwork.

Technically, Shen Yuan attends the best private academy in Beijing. However, he doesn’t actually go onto the campus because of his health concerns. His parents worked it out so that all of his work is sent to the house and his tests are administered by teachers who come to him instead.

Shen Yuan used to resent it when he was younger, wishing that he could go to class with other kids and make friends, but now he’s glad he does have to spend most of his day surrounded by other teenagers.

In addition to his standard curriculum, his mother also has him tutored in the four arts. It was something that Shen Yuan actually enjoyed though his siblings found it to be tedious. Now he would have to take it even more seriously and learn more outside of his lessons so that he could teach it to his soulmate.

Hours earlier than he expected, Shen Yuan feels a brush on his skin. He can immediately tell something is wrong, the feelings are overwhelming, upset, and heartbroken. Shen Yuan excused himself from dinner and went to his room, checking his wrist.

“You were right, Yuan-ge. It was fake.” Binghe wrote, full of helpless anger, bitterness, and pain.

Shen Yuan swallowed heavily, feeling furious for Binghe. The confirmation that his soulmate's life is at the very least connected to the web novel was something that Shen Yuan would need to think about later. For now, he needs to comfort his soulmate.

“I’m so sorry, Bing-er. You deserve better.” Shen Yuan wrote, wishing that he could do more for Binghe to keep him safe. If everything is true in that web novel, then right now his soulmate was living in a woodshed. A fucking woodshed. He was being hurt by everyone around him and doesn’t have a single good thing to his name.

Binghe deserves nothing but the best and now Shen Yuan is all too aware that Luo Binghe has been forsaken by those around him. Shen Yuan wants to find the author and thrash them until they answer why Luo Binghe has to suffer. Why did they do this the the sweetest person that Shen Yuan has ever met? How can they stand to hurt Luo Binghe who has never done anything wrong but had the whole world against him from the start?

“Yuan-ge.” Binghe wrote, his brushstrokes shaky and filled with desperation, longing, loneliness, and pain.

Shen Yuan choked on secondhand pain, feeling his heart break for the overwhelming betrayal that Binghe has suffered. Shen Yuan wishes nothing more than to be there for his soulmate, but all he can do is write.

Shen Yuan concentrates on sending comfort and love, writing messages one after another to his Binghe.

“My Bing-er, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“We’ll figure this out, Bing-er, I’ll help you.”

“I’m so sorry Bing-er, you deserve better than this.”

“Bing-er deserves the world, I would give it to you if I could.”

“I’m here, Binghe.”

Shen Yuan runs out of space on their left arm, so he leans over to begin writing on his leg. He choses one sentence, the most important truth he wants to impart onto his soulmate. He writes small, repeating the line uniformly spaced out one on top of the other until it fills the skin from his ankle to his knee.

When Binghe still hasn’t responded, Shen Yuan starts writing a symmetrical series of lines on his other leg.

“Binghe is precious.”

He had nearly finished on his second leg when he finally received a reply from Binghe, right above their knee.

“I wish Yuan-ge was here.” Binghe wrote, his words containing fathomless amounts of yearning.

Shen Yuan grit his teeth, wishing he could fulfill Binghe’s wish. He wanted nothing more than to give Binghe everything. Everything he deserves, all the love he should receive. Shen Yuan feels useless, but he pushes that away.

All he can do is try his best to help Binghe in any way he can.

That day, Shen Yuan subscribes to Proud Immortal Demon Way, and he never misses reading an update as soon as it is uploaded. He leaves comments criticizing the author for making Luo Binghe’s life so needlessly miserable. He hopes the author will listen and lessen Binghe’s suffering.

#svsss #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen yuan #bingyuan #soulmate au #shen qingqiu #mxtx #binggeyuan #scum villian self saving system

244 notes · View notes

modmad · 6 months

Note

Hey Mod, I don't know what's going on that hurt you, I feel like I missed something that's happened, but I can tell from what I did see that it didn't just hurt you, but scared you and made you feel a Lot of doubt. I've also seen a lot of messages pouring in with support, and I want to share mine.

I have hypermobile type EDS, fibromyalgia, and a whole bucket's worth of faulty wiring in my brain. And I've always had stories to tell but I never felt I was good enough to share them. If it's because I can't focus enough to get through nanowrimo, or because I can't manage the focus and time towards drawing as a hobby, or the fact that an excessive amount of either for me leads to my hands wanting to shut down. But you? You *inspire* me. Your stories, all the ones I've seen, read, experienced in some way or another, they're so good. And you're open and honest with your fans about your own health, and of course, we support you and always would rather you rest and feel as best you can, instead of pushing out something and working yourself too hard. But all of this is to say that. I think I would have given up on my own stories if I hadn't found you and yours.

I hope whatever is going on sorts itself out, I hope you're able to keep telling your stories. At your own pace, in your own way. I think you deserve to be happy. If there's anything we (your fans, especially those of us too awkward to come off anon, whoops,) can do, to help in some way? Even if it's silly videos or cute cat pictures or whatever it is that could just help you smile. We're here. We love you.

woof. I woke up to so many messages I can't even read them all in one go I'm getting too emotional- I do feel I owe an explanation so I'll explain what happened under the cut but all you guys need to know is I'm okay, I got through it, I love you, and you're so important to me and I'm so grateful for all the messages that have asked me to stay.

tw for suicidal thoughts and all that

yeah so I have the bad morning of all mornings: was introduced to the fact there's this one character (Mr Puzzles) on a very popular youtube that. resembles RGB. incredibly strongly. like. I don't want to link to it just look if you want to. Anyway at the time I thought it had just dropped (seems to have been around for 6 months actually), and having commented on it I immediately got an inbox full of hate mail.

My website, meanwhile, had locked both me and my web designer out of it, and- already in a bad state of mind- I went into full on panic/paranoid spiral of 'they have hacked it, and they are going to delete any proof that I was here before them.' This of course wasn't true, and we have since recalimed control of the site (don't know what happened there but hey. it's fine???? haha. ha.)

On top of this my father has terminal cancer of the pancreas, which is horrible for everyone already but it means that- at some point this year- I am going to be the only person with an active income in my house. I am disabled, do not make a lot of money, and the cost of living is skyrocketing. Combine that with months of Despair at the world right now, with the multiple wars, genocide, corruption and AI and the loss of control any of us have over our IP or lives and I just decided it was time to end it all.

I somehow remembered this was a bad idea to act on immediately (hard during a period of entirely irrational thought) and instead went for a very long walk, crossed the bridge I could have jumped off and during that I came out of the worst of it. I then came back home to so much love online I felt deeply ashamed for ever contemplating it, and I cried a lot. My nose is still puffy and now my feet hurt! lmao

Anyway. Yeah. There's your context. I am not going to stop hoping, making, or living. I am prone to moments of weakness and this was one of the worst of them and I am still here, thanks in a large part to all of you. I might need you in the future to defend me against this, or people who take our ideas, but I hope you know that I will do the same for you. We need each other, and to be there for you I need to be here at all.

also fuck Mr Puzzles

#context for mod's little (massive) mental breakdown yesterday #you don't need to read it but I felt folks are due an explanation #tw suicide #ask to tag #mental health is wow!!!! a thing

262 notes · View notes

lttawnymadison · 5 months

Text

TGCF Revised Version Afterword by MXTX

Since I kept seeing snippets of this, I wanted to read the whole thing for myself. I'd already bought the book on JJWXC and did an MTL for this. It's so wonderful that she's back and sharing new things and that the revised is finally done! - Tawny --------------------------------------------- The author has something to say:

Seeing the small red clay stove again.

———— Afterword of "Heaven Official's Blessing" 2022

■ Finally done!

Long time no see! It's another afterword starting with "finally." Without further ado, seasoned readers would know that I make substantial revisions. For instance, scenes like the Bai Feng Mountain Hunt and the ending recognition of Sizhui in the serial version of "Mo Dao Zu Shi" were not originally there.

The revisions in "Heaven Official's Blessing" are the most extensive of all my works. It was a huge project, as it is also the longest in terms of length, serialized over eight months. Due to poor health and other reasons, the revision process was interrupted for a long time before I picked it up again, and it sporadically took about five to six months over several years.

In the era of web novels, there are endless new entertainments, and honestly, not many people re-read a story. Plus, some problems in the serialized version are structural and can't be changed, but I still tried my best to address my regrets. After all, when I was serializing it, I was almost always in a feverish and sick state, barely pushing through. Additionally, I often enjoy comparing different versions of my favorite authors' works back and forth, finding pleasure in the process. So, for readers, discovering "Wow, this part has changed!" is like starting a new journey with Easter eggs in a second round.

■ The new revised version includes about 100,000 words of new content!

These 100k words are mainly concentrated in the latter half of Volume 1 and Volume 3, but there are plenty scattered throughout the text. For example, I fulfilled a promise to A-Hua, giving him several new outfits. Seeing A-Hua dressed beautifully in a new hairstyle to meet his gege made me happy.

In terms of the intensity of revisions, personally, I feel it goes like this:

Volume 1 and Volume 2 > Volume 3 > Volume 5 > Volume 4.

Additionally, the new version cuts some redundant words and plots that weren't very meaningful. However, I tried to keep all the original interactions between Hua Lian as complete as possible. If some minor interactions are missing, they weren't deleted but moved around.

■ One day, I suddenly dug out something.

An antique from 2017, a folder called "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection."

Curiously, I opened it and read with interest.

● Comparing the original setting outline and the main text, the highest fidelity is in the main storyline between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian.

A-Hua, restored at a ratio of 1:100.

Hua's character setting is the most detailed, and virtually every point made it into the main text, including details like "ghosts don't like the sun, so Hua Cheng sometimes drapes a red cloth over his head"...

Points not used, listed a few:

As a child:

· After being saved from falling off a city wall, he foolishly followed a parade over and over again, grabbing people to ask, "Who is that? Who is that person?" People told him, "That's the royal son, the future Celestial God, the most outstanding Crown Prince of Xianle Nation ever!"

(This point couldn't be used because in the text A-Hua was held in the Crown Prince's arms after being saved)

· At home, he was often punished to stand or kneel, not given food, and wore old clothes, accused of stealing money. Whenever he argued with his family, he would stubbornly sleep in the Prince's temple overnight.

· Went to Mount Tai Cang to volunteer sweeping red leaves at Huangji Observatory, just to sneak peeks at his future wife happily swinging.

After becoming the ghost king:

· One of his hobbies is buying and building houses everywhere.

· Very protective of his leather boots, would (badly) polish them until they shone.

· To other devout followers of Xie Lian, he said: "You have good taste."

· Secretly prepared many betrothal gifts for his beloved god, wanting to marry him!

The character setting of Xie Lian as a teacher in the serialized version compared to the initial draft, the serialized text subtly differs. The initial draft was more... exquisite and elegant, very serious. The serialized text is more... humorous. I think perhaps because some plot points were tragic, Xie Lian thought he should be happier to make the readers more relaxed, so he drove me to adjust his mental state! But due to the spiritual oppression at that time, the character's depth was not enough, while in the new revised version, I hope he can show a more self-content state on the same core basis.

Excerpts from the unused original setting:

· Super easy-going. Easy-going means: if given fifty bucks, he would happily dress in drag and dance. Accepts haggling. Thirty bucks works. Twenty bucks too!

· The observatory is small, the house is broken, wants to grow flowers. Leaks during rain, so he uses a bucket to catch rainwater.

· Because he can't afford a caretaker, he cleans himself, and also feeds chickens. Chickens eat flowers. Keeps a cat.

· Completely engrossed in discussing serious matters, he unknowingly finished all the broken sweet dumplings!

● Water, Earth, Wind original setting:

The highest fidelity is the main line between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, followed by the Water, Earth, Wind subplot.

The main conflict hasn't changed. Just... how could the original setting of Water, Earth, Wind be so dark and terrifying!

The character morals in the main text improved a lot, otherwise, the original Black Water would be sheer scheming + murderous! The ending for the Wind Master would have been more tragic.

The Venerable of Empty Words suddenly became an improvised character. It seemed like an ancient fable-like monster, making the main text more interesting than the original setting.

Overall, the formal version is a bit better written than the original draft.

● The unfortunate life of Lang Ying:

Lang Ying? Is there such a character? I don't remember!

Ah? It seems there was such a person, but I don't remember any of his plotlines.

This is most people's feeling towards the character of Lang Ying. It's not a delusion because he barely had any significant plot. In fact, any valuable scenes could have been replaced equivalently, so in the new revised version, I deleted this character.

But, in the 2017 setting collection, I suddenly found that I had actually opened a separate document for Lang Ying, and his role was defined as a "growing-type BOSS!"

I was silent.

And immediately opened the document, curious about my initial setting. A "growing-type BOSS," how did he become someone whose deletion went unnoticed...? (I even don't know how to address him!)

Who knows, perhaps out of excitement, I accidentally pressed the wrong shortcut, and somehow it became irreversible, leaving only an empty document for me to stare in disbelief. The once "growing-type BOSS" has now forever become a mystery!

This is the unfortunate life of the deleted Lang Ying.

· There was another document in the setting collection called "Swordsmith." I opened the document and read it with interest.

I was shocked. Because I completely forgot I had conceived this story. Why didn't I write it?!

Darn.

I know why I didn't write it. This story... it had no ending!

——————— Thus, the magical glimpse into the "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection" concludes!

■ I like men with stories!

Maybe because I watched an outstanding work as a child. It was a memoir, the protagonist in the biography was gentle and affable, and the protagonist in the memories was cold and ruthless. The story was scattered with the poignant fragrance of white plum blossoms amidst bloody and stormy circumstances.

This almost perfect work deeply influenced my aesthetics, leading me to be most interested in the memory parts of characters in various works. Although many viewers prefer the present scenes, often asking when the memories will end, I actually find these intense and painful memories to be the most fascinating!

A story is the history of a character, as well as the key to their personality. A person with a story stands before me like a puzzle. The way to solve this puzzle is to understand their story. Because the biography makes one curious to know more about a character they like, loving them more now because of their past. When serializing "Heaven Official," my greatest pain initially was telling myself, "This time I don't want to write a memory slaughter," deliberately trying to avoid a structure similar to previous works, yet I still hadn't found a better way to express it, resulting in my deep dissatisfaction with the later part of Volume 1. I was also hesitant to fully commit to the memory scenes in Volume 2, and with the heavy mental burden, this part was very painful to write. When revising, looking at Volume 2 was almost unbearable, because I'm the type of person who, as a child, would immediately switch channels when a TV show's protagonist was about to be wrongfully accused or embarrassed. I couldn't help but knock on a friend's door and ask:

Me: Was the author suffering some kind of mental trauma at the time? This negative energy is too horrifying, the protagonist is so pitiful, I really admire anyone who could read through Volume 2 completely.

Friend: Do you even have the right to say that?

But the memory slaughter in Volume 4 was much freer, written in one breath, so the revisions for this volume were also the least.

So, will you still write large segments of memory slaughter?

Um, well, we'll see, haha, hehe...

■ Closing Remarks:

Lastly, I'll address the question some asked me, "Will the new revised 'Heaven Official's Blessing' be more torturous?"

Me: You're talking nonsense. 'Heaven Official's Blessing' is a sweet pampering story, thank you!

Acknowledgments:

Shi Nai'an wrote in the preface to "Water Margin": "On snowy nights, about five or six people listen to my storytelling; on rainy days, about seven or eight; on bright and sunny days, about ten. I read, everyone listens, and we are all happy, with no other thoughts." When I read this as a young person, I was delighted. What divine days! Writing first to entertain oneself, then to entertain others. Self-expression and self-acceptance are certainly primary, but the affection of others is also a significant positive feedback. Thus, first, I thank the steadfast readers who have accompanied me all this time. I've thought about just walking away amidst the noisy disputes; abandoning the account amidst the tumultuous world! It seems not bad. But looking back, I can't bear to leave some truly sincere readers.

I've had authors I liked disappear from the internet, and I always feel like a part of my youth has vanished, a feeling quite distressing, reminiscent of overly grand and harsh things like the tears of the era or the torrent of history. So, I want to accompany my readers as long as possible, hoping that the day of parting comes later. Perhaps I'm not good enough now, but I will strive to be better in the future. Or perhaps you've never truly understood what kind of person I am, or even completely misunderstood me, but as long as you genuinely like my stories, we can sit down and chat.

And, I must mention my friends, who can be described as having the courage of a hero. Long time no see, Teacher Changyang's illustrations are still as beautiful as those of a celestial being, I hope Teacher CAS can go to bed earlier and worry less, and Teacher Kuohao, who despite a heavy workload, still fully honored our agreement. The "Heaven Official's Blessing" radio drama is really fantastic! It reminded me of the original intention of writing this story, and I was very moved. If it weren't for the silent companionship and efforts of these old friends, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu might have stopped writing back in 2016, disappearing from the world of martial arts, and thus, "Heaven Official's Blessing" would not have been born. I look forward to retracing the paths we once walked together when gathering ideas. And many friends who reached out to help and encourage me, thank you for accompanying me through the snowy nights.

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #hob #heaven official's blessing #mxtx #mo xiang tong xiu #天官赐福 #tgcf revised version #lttawnymadison post

233 notes · View notes