#ill still tag it in case it triggers others

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

damn im kind of realizing no one actually sees me as genderqueer. everyone just sees me as a kind of weird girl. not even a woman because im petite with pink hair everyone sees me as still a girl. and a few people actually use he/him for me but nobody actually sees me as genderqueer. hmm. dont like this feeling.

[jinuaei]

Dude, you could make a drunken alastor with the reader, what would it be like? And what would happen?

(( I saw a short on YouTube of an animation, I thought it was so funny... I wanted to see a fanfic about it...

If you're curious: https://youtube.com/shorts/ZN2PBs-RsVM?si=12BtCleXiCO7BWkU ))

So I basically mixed both of these asks into one fic, sorry if its not what you wanted its 3 am and I don't know what im doing kk love yall byeeee. been a while since I wrote so please be kind

Additional art

Warning: Kind of yandere? tagging just in case, BAD ACCENT WRITING, kissing!, Drunk alastor

Alastor is a heavyweight when it comes to drinking, but still, his tolerance to strong alcohol is no match to the king of hell himself. The bottles that surround the both of them shine under the lights of the hotel, empty as the red eyes staring at the wall behind Husk. Which is rather concerning as the owner of said eyes is the loser of the impromptu drinking game, started by the loser himself.

Alastor has been taking big Ls tonight huh. Not only did he lose his own game with the king of hell, he’s also getting clowned on by his enemy. Speaking of, Lucifer is now gloating in front of Alastor about how ‘he’s better’ and ‘you thought you could defeat THE KING OF HELL???’, while the recipient is still mindlessly staring at the display bottles of the bar.

Concerned, you walk up to him with hesitation, not wanting to trigger the hunting instincts he has displayed every time you are around. He has always pursued you not in a romantic sense, at least you think so, but more of a predatory sense. Everytime you walk into the room, his head always snaps to your direction, the smile on his face spreading wider and the horns growing the closer you get. At first you would just ignore the ever growing static emitting from him, the fear of getting mauled and eaten by him increasing with the volume of the radio waves. 

The intimidating display of his horns always amp up too whenever the other men of the hotel try to talk to you, or just even approaching your general vicinity. The headaches that you leave with always render you unable to do anything for the rest of the day. But with how constantly he’s been threatening the whole room with his power and presence, it’s no wonder you’ve been trying to avoid him everytime you just even feel the shift of static in the air. You’d rather not be MIA just because Alastor’s radio waves make you ill.

However, when you’re with the girls, his presence becomes pleasant, the sharp noise turning into a sweet jazz song that calms your nerves. During those times, you find yourself appreciating his presence. When you talk to Charlie or Nifty, he likes to cozy up right next to you, butting into the conversation, and when either of them ask for help, he tries to include you into the task, even when you are not needed. For Vaggie though, he still does stand next to you but you guess that his face is not as pleasant as when you talk to the other girls as Vaggie always glares at him when tries to speak. Nonetheless, the girls are always treated better than the boys.

Onto the current task, you wave a hand in front of him, still hesitant as Lucifer is still trying to provoke the Radio Demon. Thankfully Charlie managed to drag him away from the bar, talking about how his father is also drunk. With the unsuccessful attempt of catching his attention, you instead call out his name. In response, his head snaps to you with a painful noise that sounds like his neck breaking.

“Are you good Alastor…?,” his stare is still there but it looks more focused compared to the past 20 minutes.

You wait for him to respond, or at least for his brain to work again. Alastor blinks slowly, his smile growing bigger as his eyes finally focus on yours. The empty gaze turns soft and sitting before you is Alastor not as the Radio Demon, but his truest most pure self. And now that you think about it, you don’t hear the faint hum of the radio coming out from him, it was pure silence. That is until he finally speaks to you.

“Hello sha…”

Your breath hitches. 

You did not expect the cajun accent that came out of his mouth, and by God was it hot. It took you longer than you wanted to respond, the sheer change of his usual accent surprising you.  And the surprise must be obvious on your face as Alastor chuckles at your bafflement. 

“Why, what’s wrong dear…?”

He speaks slowly, slurring some of his words, but the accent is still thick on his tongue.

“Nothing, it’s just… how are you? You’ve been staring at the wall ever since you lost to Lucifer.”

“Hm… Nothin’, just thinkin’.”

“Thinking about what?”

“You.”

He purrs, the half lidded stare directed at you burns your body hot. It was nearly impossible to look away from him, but luckily he moved first, perching his head onto his crossed arms, looking adorably tired.

“So uh.. You drink whiskey huh?,” you fumbled, pointing to the various bottles that surrounded him.

He nods, still burrowed in his arms. The others are starting to retreat to their rooms, waving a goodnight to the people left in the lobby, which was you, Alastor and Husk, who is now starting to clean up the bar.

“You know, I haven’t tried whiskey yet.”

Alastor raises his head to look at you, mouth slightly opened as if to display his disbelief to your lack of taste. 

“Well, surely you have to try at least once!”

Husk was only minding his business, cleaning up the bottles on the table when Alastor yanks his arm and pulls him to demand a bottle of whiskey. The cat demon's face scrunched up, and he looks at you with a ‘are you fucking for real’ face, you can only smile sheepishly back. Being given no choice, he complies to Alastors demand, grumbling about wanting to sleep but needing to still clean up after you both. Feeling pity, you volunteer to do his work and let him go to bed, he eagerly agrees and practically books it upstairs. 

The demon left with you shows off the bottle he acquired, popping off the cap with a flourish. You try to find a glass to drink out of but Alastor had another idea. He drinks out from the bottle and before you can ask him to stop, he grips the back of your head and kisses you.

Your eyes widen, freezing in your seat in shock and awe. His hand moves under your chin and his thumb trails up to hook it through your lips and pulls open your mouth. The whiskey from his mouth transfers to yours, burning as you gulp it down your throat. He finally pulled away when there was no more whiskey left to transfer.

“Well, what do you think? Do you like it?”

The dopey smile on his face is impossible to ignore, he looks so pleased yet still so hungry, but the ever so gentleman still waits for your reaction.

Honestly, you don’t know if you liked the whiskey but you really, really, really liked the kiss.

“Yeah! Yeah, I liked it.”

“That's good! I’m glad my deer also likes the stuff that I like. Haha! Here, have some more!”

He nudges the bottles to you, but since it's midnight and you’d rather not have a hangover by the morning. So you refused, and he full on pouted, pouted! And he looked so sad too, his ears flattened and everything! 

You couldn’t bear to see him that sad, even though it’s actually terrifying seeing the Radio Demon, acting like a dejected puppy. So you came up with a solution to both of your problems.

Gingerly holding his cheek, your hands carefully pull his face to yours, his gaze curious but willing. You bit your lip before kissing him lightly, unsure of whether it’s okay or not to do this to the predator that has been haunting your days. The same predator who's now reduced to putty in your hands, eagerly kissing you back with vigour. He tastes of whiskey, which was what you were finding for, and slightly of blood, maybe his meal from earlier that night.

You pull away from him when you start to lose air from the kiss, he complies, his face dazed and the blush from the kiss spreads across his face. Catching your breath, you see Alastor move closer to you, he moves his face to your neck, sniffing it deeply.

“What are you doing…?”

“I’ve been waitin’ for you to accept me for so long...You don’t understand how long I’ve longed for you sha… To become mine,” he starts to ramble, the cajun accent still thick, and only getting thicker the lower his voice gets. His hands start to roam around your body, gripping your waist tight as he pulls you close to him, he would have pulled you onto his lap if you haven’t stood your ground.

“Oh… how I wanted to rip those damned men that try to take you away from me, ‘specially that cursed sorry excuse of a father, Charlie would be soooo much better taken care of by you n’ me. Nifty already thinks of you as her parent, to which of course I wholly agree with. You’d make a perfect parent sha.”

You stay silent as his whole body is now fully leaned against you. 

“I like helpin’ you out n’ Nifty, makes me feel like a proud father n’ a good husband… Ohhhh, i’d love to be your husband.”

“Sometimes, I like to follow you around to protect you from those disgustin’ dogs tryin’ to steal you away from me.”

What the fuck is happening? You thought this man hated your guts and only wanted to fuck with you for fun, but not like this. Yeah the kiss wasn’t good either but you only wanted to do it for bragging rights, like who could say they kissed the Radio Demon?? Oooh, Vox would have your head if he knew about this, that tv head of his and his weird obsession with Alastor. 

“Would you like to be mine sha?,” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, his face now planted on your chest as his face nuzzles on it, you can see movement under his coat but you ignore it in favour of looking at him.

“Well… uh…”

“Please…? Please be mine…”

He moves his face close to you again, his breath tickling your lips, tempting you to kiss him again. Your response gets stuck on the tip of your tongue, but luckily, you don’t have to respond as his body flops onto yours, his weight fully on top of you. You can hear his leveled breathing as he dozed off, cradled against your neck, a sign of him now being asleep.

Well shit. You’d have to drag this 7 foot deer up his room, and you pray that he doesn’t remember anything from tonight.

[xerotiny99]

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day // Our precious #6

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day. (Our precious #6)

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Pairing: main - Park Seonghwa x Reader. Side - Reader x Jeong Yunho, Reader x Kang Yeosang

Warning (for all parts): smut, hardcore smut, soft dom!seonghwa, dom!yunho, dom master!yeosang, sub!reader/slave!reader, breast stimulation, teasing, biting and marking, DD/LG, seonghwa has a feeding kink (does not overlap with fat fetish), praise kink, food play, unprotected sex, fingering, cock warming, thigh riding, nipple play, bits of master-slave dynamic, rough sex, manhandling, cum play/cum shot, dirty talk/degradation (just know yunho has a filthy mouth), size training (vaginal), etc.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by any aforementioned tags. Feeding kink/feedism can be triggering for some people, if that's the case, please do not engage or skip over the beginning parts. I apologise, I had no ill intentions with this. To avoid boredom, this time i decided to divide this chapter into four parts, each part with each pair. Not proofread.

Gist: it's the weekend and you finally get the time to spend it with your so called "boyfriends".

Total Word Count: n/a

Part One [6.1]: Feed Me Please, Daddy - Park Seonghwa x Reader.

Word Count: 13,354

Song Rec: In The Trees by Stalgia

Taglist: @t3kandson @therealcuppicake @sebastianswhore13

 Reliving some moments can be detrimental, some can be joyous, while some can be a mix of both. You weren't sure where exactly you were leaning to in this particular moment. Or maybe, your approach was more of a two-fold interpretation than concluding all at once. Staring into the deep brown eyes of the person you were least likely to be interested in, was a moment of deja vu you resented living in, despising every passing second of it. In the much steeper part of your stomach, you were starting to sense the underlying distraught creeping up your gut. As one might wonder why you'd be so invested in this particular case, but to your own acknowledgment, you knew you were being stubborn.

There was no way you were backing down from this; you couldn't look away either, not when he's been waiting on the chance to watch you lose. In sullen silence which pertains the more you hold onto your stupidity, you have yourself comfortably perched on the kitchen counter while the subtle sounds coming from the balcony fill up any unnecessary noise between you two. Mingi was at it again, not once wavering in his motive to make you feel small with his broad shoulders or his bulging bare arms as he held them across his chest. A deleterious glint sits in his eyes. He stood at a distance from you, studying the curves of your body and how it was capable of fitting in the space on the kitchen counter next to the stove. You, on the other hand, are trying to condole with your hammering heart; it was no surprise, even to yourself, to know you were attracted to Mingi. If you got the chance, you'd pounce upon him and act out all the fantasies you deliberately hide from everyone. If only Mingi was allied to you the way others were. Sadly, that's not how it worked, did it?

A few hours after the break of dawn, and you're forced to have a ruthless encounter with him. Mingi had just woken up, judging from his bed hair and the way it was tousled, besides he was still dressed in his night clothes. The white tank top which hugged his body like a second skin had an assortment of stains on them. Some prominent, some faded; they were probably stains from food. Though, you were deeply infatuated with Mingi's personality, you equally reviled it too. If not, your somber morning would've never been blighted by his rueful gaze or his inanely gracious satire. You'd be a fool to think you'd have a normal morning for once; waking up to Seonghwa's voice was the ultimate rapture of your significant morning, and then he had asked to you meet him in the kitchen so he could prepare breakfast for you before everyone's awake. And to your satisfaction, everyone slept-in on a Saturday. Obviously.

Really, you'd be a fool to pass on that opportunity. Groggy with sleep, you somehow managed to drag yourself out of the nimble futon you slept on, brushed your teeth and carried yourself to the kitchen. The nifty oversized shirt on your body, the one which you had borrowed from Jongho last night, clung too close to you to expose your curves and godly figure; seamlessly you had booty shorts under your shirt, which had no point in wearing because the shirt covered most of your skin till your mid thighs. When you were ushered into the kitchen by the heavenly scent of coffee and your own enthusiasm, Seonghwa had been sipping on his morning coffee, his favourite mug in his hand and a doleful haze of sunshine in his eyes; everything was wonderful when alongside Seonghwa, you had your morning coffee too and engaged yourself in a fatuous conversation with him. Until Mingi walked in, half-asleep and Seonghwa excused himself to the balcony to get himself some freshly harvested coriander for the breakfast he had planned ahead. You had just gotten comfortable on the counter, as on Seonghwa's suggestion who thought it'd be a great idea for you to watch him cook.

So, now you're here. Waiting on Mingi's derisive comment to wrung you out like one would do to their wet towel. All this could've been avoided if Mingi hadn't woken up to get himself a bottle of water, or if you had just let it go after your eyes met with him.

"I don't remember the last time I had walked into the kitchen, and you weren't there," Mingi spits, spitefully enough to let his tone prick you like a thorn. "But you know, what? It'd be more surprising if you were actually useful in here."

"Man, you're really obsessed with me, aren't you?" you scoff, swinging your legs off the counter and landing on your feet. "I must be taking up every fraction of your mind, for you to come up with useless remakes and snarks."

"Aww, don't flatter yourself." Mingi smirks, "it's sad you think of me as one of your playthings to be infatuated with you and whatever that is you offer. Quit dreaming, princess. I will never bend to your words or whatever tricks you have up your sleeve."

"You seem very confident about—"

"You two are at it again?" Seonghwa groans, walking in the kitchen with his hands occupied, "how many times have I told you to not bother yourself with him, Angel? Some people aren't worth our attention." He sets the pair of scissors and a bunch of coriander, which he had freshly cut from his thriving garden in the balcony, on the counter and glances at Mingi, "and you, can't you let your differences go? You don't like her, we get it. But that does not validate your curt attitude towards her."

Heaving a sigh, he turns around and faces you, a smile already lilting on his lips, "look, I just want to have my breakfast in peace. You want to argue, bite each other's necks off, or borderline kill each other, do it in your own leisure time. My only request is, please let me eat in concord of my mind."

Mingi couldn't help but scoff, "you know, this would've never happened if you all hadn't allowed her to live with us."

You take offence in what he has to say, but don't voice it out as you usually would; Mingi and you had a bone to pick, you two could never get along no matter what. Though, listening to Mingi sometimes would leave your heart broken. In much simpler way of eluding, Mingi's resentment towards you was a blow to this ornate mirror you would view yourself in, and his words were the scattered pieces of glass ready to plunge deep in your heart. Whiling in the same momentary haze, you're dwelling unreasonably over his injudicious words again. It wouldn't come off as a surprise to anyone but being pampered and taken care of by the seven men in the house, Mingi's hostility always marred your pleasant disposition.

"Mingi," Seonghwa mutters, his tone threatening, "you're crossing the line here."

"Am I? Am I really crossing the line here, Seonghwa?" Mingi mumbles, posing it as a question onto Seonghwa. "I never had a say in this arrangement, yet I respected your decisions and went along with it. Maybe, I shouldn't detest her for what you've done. I should resent you all."

As his words falter to a mere whisper, Mingi shakes his head and turns around; but before he could leave either of you stranded, he glances over his shoulder and adds, "I'll go live with Lani for a couple of weeks. You guys can get comfortable, you know, I won't be around to make you guys awkward..."

With that, he leaves. His silhouette dithers to the morning sun flooding in through the balcony doors. Mingi had gone and you were seemingly, more heartbroken than ever. Your stomach lurches into your chest, your heart slowly regressing in its palpitations; Seonghwa clicks his tongue and places one of his hands on your thigh. Comforting warmth engulfs your disturbed mind and you're pulled out of your despondency. When you turn your head, you find Seonghwa's smile growing further into his cheeks and his eyes disappearing in crinkles.

"Don't you worry about him," he says, "he'll get around. I'll have Yunho talk to him. Unless they're both on bad terms with each other."

"What?" you mutter under your breath, tracing your hand along his to intertwine your fingers together. "I don't let his words bother me, seriously. You shouldn't trouble yourself with this. Or, even Yunho."

Seonghwa chuckles, "compared to me, Yunho would've taken a much violent approach if he had heard what and how Mingi spoke to you. I'm just saying, he wouldn't have been as tolerant as me." He clears his throat and lets his smile fall to line, "and whether you are bothered by him or not, it's no way for a man to treat you like that. Mingi is one of us, and we wouldn't be setting much of an impression on you if we let him get away with these things. Like I said, don't let his words get to you, he's a better man under all the facade of arrogance and revulsion."

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, Seonghwa steps and untangles your hands; he stands in front of the stove and smiles at you. "Let's forget about him, alright. I know you're feeling down, so, what do you want to eat?"

"I thought you were making me fried rice from yesterday's leftovers," you wiggle your legs dangling off the counter and let your lips curl, "I'm not a picky eater. You can cook whatever you want."

"There's no harm in asking my lady, is there?" he muses, offering you wink before grabbing the bunch of coriander he had brought from the balcony.

"Who would've thought you tended a garden in the balcony."

He chortles, "not many know of it, sure. However, it doesn't take a genius to plant some coriander."

"Hey, it still keeps you in touch with your nurturing psyche," you pout, swinging your legs at a steady pace, "after all you're the guy who takes care of six kids in this household."

Seonghwa bites back on a laugh and lets his lips curve instead; he shakes his head, studying your clement eyes with his before he brushes it off. The avid affection in his eyes could've misread yours. He doesn't want to believe what he interpreted, but he knows you were being grateful to him. As the conspicuous moments cling to either of your speechlessness, Seonghwa clears his throat, and steps away from the counter.

"Seven kids, sweetheart. What, did you forget to count yourself?" he whispers lowly, "but you're not wrong, gardening has helped me get over many slumps in my life. And to be fair, any guy, stuck in my situation, would've done what I'm doing. Let's not romanticise what I do."

You are weirdly confounded by his modesty; allured in some delightful sense, you can't seem to get your eyes off of him. Seonghwa had his back faced to you while he rummaged through the refrigerator. Dainty crinkles of polythene bags and containers reverberate till they're softened by your own, an airy voice calling out to him.

"Are you sure?" you muse, "because I've seen you take on countless responsibilities. You somehow manage to balance your work life and still have time for the things you love doing vis-a-vis your gardening hobby. So, yeah. You're pretty much like a superhero."

"Anyone could do that, Angel. Come on." His humility is endearing, but you couldn't understand why he was dodging your compliments. With his head still buried in refrigerator, he continues, "if we're talking about parenthood, then I believe Hongjoong deserves some credit for keeping us all together."

You let out a soft giggle before leaning back on the counter, propping your hands on either side of you and gently oscillating yourself back and forth.

"You two have your roles predestined for this household, don't you? You're doing a great job, seriously. Just take the compliments and don't backhand them," you lick your lower lip, adoring the view in front of you. Seonghwa hums as a response because he knew there was no winning against you, while you suck on your teeth, "this is totally off topic, but damn, I might have one of the bestest views in front of me right now."

There was no lie in your testimony; you were indeed revelling in the perfect view of Seonghwa's rear raised in the air as he leaned over to rummage through the refrigerator. Sweatpants hang loose on his waist, accentuating more of his curves and his ass. It'd be a lot shameful to admit you were ogling at him, then ever denying you felt yourself losing to your demarcated eroticism.

"Oh really, my little girl likes what's in front of her? Adorable," he remarks, pulling himself out of the open doors of the refrigerator, "sad, all you can do is watch and drool. We both know who's incharge here, right?"

You watch him holding a few bags of veggies; though it wasn't feasible for your mind to come up with something this early in the morning, you still manage to go along the inner voices. A spark of tease takes over your mind when the oxytocin in your body passes its threshold.

"You are," you bring your voice down a few baritones and lace it with seduction, "daddy."

As a blur of sinful hope crosses his eyes, Seonghwa's face shrouds with utmost impropriety when he prances across the very little distance between you and the refrigerator. Carelessly, he lets go the bags in his hands and they land on the counter with a placid crinkle, soon submerging into your gasp; Seonghwa forces you to spread your thighs apart while you sat still on the counter. His hands sear their touch on your skin, pushing your legs further apart for him to slot his body perfectly against yours. The tender caresses of his fingers, running in circles on your skin, under your shirt, start trickling your spine with shivers. On your amiable instinct, you're quick to wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders, supporting your body as he pulls you into his body. He kept you upright while you were almost suspended off the edge of the counter.

"Be careful with that word, sweetheart." Seonghwa warns, tracing his lips in almost like a trail of wispy kisses to your ear; he licks up the shell of your ear before biting down on the earlobe. "You throw it around too much, and I might not be able to tame myself."

Your throat runs dry, once having discerned the softer but grimy undertones of carnality in his voice. In the wrinkle of a second, you wind your legs around his waist and push your hips into his lower abdomen. His flimsy shirt rides up with your movement to have you peek on his toned abdomen, and a cute little belly button. Seonghwa's dainty fingers crawl down to the hem of your shirt, pushing it over to expose your bare chest.

"I wouldn't mind you losing yourself to me, daddy." You slur your words, tilting your head to a side when you find him staring at you.

"You're playing with fire, sweetheart," smirking, he whispers and lets his hands drag up your sides, till they're cupping your tits, "aren't you scared you might burn yourself?"

A breath hitches in your throat, mind fogging with absolute darkness when his warmth is groping your tits like that; you let out a soft whimper, your eyes fluttering close and your lips parting in a mere attempt to get your words out. Nothing came out of your mouth, not even an utter; you were too engrossed in his touches and warmth, the one which slipped away from you after teasing and tugging at your taut nipples. You were sensitive to touch, and it had only been brought to your attention during your make out session with Jongho last night.

"Hmm, you're...responsive," Seonghwa mumbles and pulls back, letting your shirt drape your body fully before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "We'll continue this after breakfast, hmm? I am really hungry right now. Hungry for food."

Tangled limbs become free as he pushes himself away from you; you weren't fond of the coldness which slipped in between too immediately after, but you couldn't complain either way. Seonghwa ties his apron around his waist and bends over to grab a chopping board from the cabinets below the stove.

He sets it on the counter before smiling at you, "I could use your help. Why don't you wash the vegetables and I'll chop them?"

"Sure."

It came off as a suggestion than request, the one you couldn't quite resist. You hop off the counter, gently tugging on your shirt before standing next to him; Seonghwa unwraps his selection of veggies from their respective polythene bags and places them on the counter. You share a glance with him, and a smile curls your lips. Soon, you two are drowning out every superficial thought in your head, lost in a void of affection while your eyes never once wavered from each other. He almost leant in, lips puckered and eyes half-lidded, you were prepared for whatever that was going to happen, anticipation breaking at the seams. Warmth of his breath fans your cheeks and then your lips, before it melts into your skin; his lips are delicate with yours, brushing softly till it turns to a passionate kiss. Seonghwa winces softly when he forces himself away from you, breaking the kiss in that moment.

"If we carry on like this, there's no way I'd finish preparing breakfast for nine people."

"Then maybe you should learn how to control yourself," you joke, bumping your hips into his, as playfully as you could, "come on, we've got a lot of time after breakfast to do whatever your heart desires to do now."

"Duly noted, ma'am."

Cooking with Seonghwa was fun, endearing even. You two spent the time laughing and talking around, making harmless jokes about the others who were somehow still not awoken to your chaos. There wasn't a lot to talk about any way, so you settled on asking him questions about Mingi and his relationship. At first Seonghwa hesitated in his head to answer your doubts, but soon enough he was opening up and spilling everything. Mingi and Lani, his girlfriend, have been on and off from the freshman year; the two met in their department and have known each other since then. Lani is a ballet major and according to Seonghwa's first impression of her, she's a pretty woman with an ugly heart and soul. She had been stringing Mingi along to her tricks, taking advantage of his good persona and also his wealth. Yep, if you hadn't known it before, Mingi, similar to Jongho, belonged to a well-heeled family.

"Mingi's too much of a kind heart to see through her lies and chicaneries," Seonghwa scoffs, continuing to sauté the vegetables, he glances at you and shrugs his shoulders lightly, "we've all tried our hardest to get him out of the illusions she's weaved around him; so far, we've only offended him with our stupid trials."

"You told me not to be bothered by him, on the contrary you yourself are troubled—"

"—there's always some sort of hypocrisy hidden in my words, sweetheart," his laugh interrupts you, "time heals, doesn't it?" As he sighs, he fixates himself on the pan of sizzling of vegetables, "I'm just hoping he realises his worth and knows what he deserves."

"He will, I'm a firm believer of that."

You hum and lean back into the counter, stretching out your upper body and legs to destress yourself; the sublime morning dawned over, spilling with golden cast and untimely bloom of chirping birds. It had been approximately fifteen minutes since Seonghwa and you had taken on the venture of cooking egg fried rice for everyone, almost done with finishing with the task at hand. Amid the silence of all, where only the occasional sears of vegetables and oil resounds, your stomach growls and all hell breaks loose.

Seonghwa bites back on a laugh and looks at you, "if you're that eager, there's an assortment of cut fruit in the fridge. Help yourself to it." He redirects your attention by pointing the spatula in his hand towards the refrigerator, "I'll be done in ten more minutes. You can have a light snack till then. And do you want me to brew you some green tea with the rice?"

You're already a few steps ahead, already by the refrigerator, "I'm fine. I'll just have some orange juice instead."

Opening the door of the refrigerator, you shuffle around with the various takeout containers and a box leftover pizza from last night. Along some saran-wrapped plates of Wooyoung's experimented recipes, you find the colourful bowl of cut fruits, which also happened to be covered by a large sheet of saran-wrap. The gelid ceramic bowl fits snug in the palm of your hands when you bring it out to the dining table; sitting down on your designated chair, you put the bowl on the table and flick the wrap from it. Your place at the dining table had been preordained by the others, you were given the seat between Yunho and San, while the others sat in their usual chairs. There was one chair, centrally placed along the width of the table, claimed by Hongjoong. And the others would then sit around him; it started with Hongjoong, and clockwise to him, it went, Seonghwa, Jongho, Yeosang, Mingi, Wooyoung, San, you and Yunho.

As it was only the two of you this morning, you decided to settle down on the first chair you see; which happened to be where Seonghwa sat. Aimlessly, you let your hand dive in the bowl to pinch out a piece of peach, the first bite is juicy, tangy and sweet, forcing you to reminisce on your bittersweet encounter with Mingi. You're in a dour state of your mind again, forced to have mindless notions, if there could ever be a time where you and Mingi would get along just fine. Lost in your heady wonders, you blindly pick out another piece, a piece of melon and put in your mouth; juices trickle, splashing on your chin and rolling further down your neck. Chewing through it, you're still immersed in the intangible truth of your downtrodden relationship with Mingi. You munch and chew, without having the knowledge that you had nearly finished all the fruit in bowl, and how sticky your chin was from all the fruit juices.

Louder your thoughts are, the more unaware you become of footsteps ascending out of the kitchen. You're snapped into reality by a certain weight lingering on your shoulder. When you raise your head up, you're stricken with Seonghwa's beaming smile and his amused eyes.

"Angel to earth," he muses, "what are you thinking of?"

You shake your head, lips quivering, "nothing really."

Seonghwa doesn't believe you, yet he nods his head and places the plates on the table which had been carrying in his other hand. Slipping his hand from your shoulder and sliding it across the back of your chair, he leans over and traces his other hand along your chin; fingers collect the remnant of fruit juices from your chin before his thumb swipes just under your lower lip. You watch him, flustered and confused, mouth agape, seemingly out of the daze, as he brings his fingers to his mouth and lets his tongue dart out. He licks up the length of his forefinger, fluttering his eyes close before humming in satisfaction. When his eyes open to your soft whimper, he continues to lap his tongue around his thumb; sucking on it, he brings it out with a pop and smirks lightly at you.

"Sweet," he whispers, leaning further to reduce whatever distance that was between you two. His lips hover on yours, ghosting their soft brushes till he mumbles, "you're not a good liar, sweetheart."

"I-I really wasn't—I wasn't thinking of anything," you stutter, jerking up your shoulders and taking a deep breath to keep yourself composed.

On the brink of letting your lips touch, you're at loss for words and thoughts; the close proximity muddles with your brain in ways you couldn't quite comprehend. Not when Seonghwa's hand had slithered its way on the nape of your neck from the chair. His delicate grasp pulls you in, your lips touching in some sort of fervent delight, till you're lurching and leaping, tilting your head to augment the desires palpating in both of your hearts. He cups your face instead, using the warmth of both of his palms. One of his thumbs presses against your cheekbone and you wince, fumbling with your own hands to wrap them around his shoulders.

This kiss drags on for long as it could, minutes murmuring to nothing more. Seonghwa's mind is left craving for more when he tastes the sweetness of fruit on your tongue and lips, when his own had been exploring the hot crooks of your mouth. You let him do as he pleased to, eager for his tongue to explore and taunt your own, to let both of them rub and wrestle together. Until, you're past the threshold of your contentment. A concept frozen in time, bounded by nothing till you're both breathless, chasing for the breath of air you needed to appease the burn in your chest. Seonghwa breaks the kiss, rupturing the rhythm of your lips; he rests his forehead against yours, his warm and ragged breath thrashing against your cheeks.

"Something has to be wrong with me today," he frets his words with the air he inhales, "I can't seem to let go of you, neither can I rid my heart of this devout yearning to taste you on my tongue. What have you done to me, my darling?" He chuckles in the raspy and breathless state of his, "do you not want me to stay sane?"

"I'm—I'm doing nothing," you respond, words hitching in your throat and heart pounding on the walls of your chest, "you were the one who kissed me."

"I am aware," he adds, whirling his tone with a deep laugh, "couldn't help myself when I saw you sitting here, lips and face glistening with the juices. You wouldn't know how tempting you were, how fucking beautiful it was for a man like me, to find you—" he chuckles in your face, "—every bit of you is so fucking precious, sweetheart. No doubt I lack self-restraint when I'm with you."

One of his hands on your cheeks, falls to grab your chin in his fingers' subtle grip, he pushes his thumb under your lower lip and forces you to open your mouth.

"This mouth had done some wonders back then," he mutters, "do you remember that night, Angel? When I had fucked this pretty little mouth of yours..."

You nod.

"Such a good little girl," he rasps, drunkenly, "such a good girl to remember the time I had wrecked her throat. Hmm, fucking perfect."

And you're rendered speechless; it's very unlikely for you to be so horny in the morning, let alone, your day had just started, and you were already dripping through your shorts. Swallowing thickly, your throat wobbles with you having no words to voice them out; instead, Seonghwa steps back, begrudging to himself as he straightens up and stares down at you.

"I know what you're thinking of," he muses, "and I've got something for you regarding it. Don't worry, sweetheart, all your desires will be quenched; let's just eat first, okay?"

Again, you're only sane enough to nod your head vigorously. Biting on your lower lip, your mind goes astray, the reminisces of the said night flooding your conscience with zeal and ecstasy; only recalling the vague memoirs that night left you with, had tipped you past your edge, urging your arousal to soak your shorts and causing more to seep out. Seonghwa's muted whistle howls in your ears when he's placing the pot of cooked rice on the table. While you're still disoriented from the remembrances of your game night with him and Yunho, Seonghwa makes himself comfortable on one of the chairs and pats his lap, hoping you'd take on the little hint. You obviously did not need to be told twice. Scampering off your feet, you're quick to fit yourself in his lap. You prop your legs across his, leaning your body onto his chest while resting your head on his shoulder. Mumbling out an incoherent sound, Seonghwa wraps his arms around your waist and presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

"How are we supposed to eat if you're going to..." he says, suggestive enough for you to sit a bit straighter, "you know, you can get needy at times. A lot."

Plucked by a sense of curiosity, you compose your posture and wrap your arms around his neck. Seonghwa's lips curl with the utmost bewilderment, while your brows squeeze together in the centre of your forehead; he shakes his head, fathoming your deliberate gestures. He pinches your chin, thumb pressing into your bone for your lower lip to tug out.

"I'm not complaining, it's adorable." He adds in a wispy voice, "really fucking adorable when daddy's little girl gets to bat her lashes at him and he falls head first into her trap."

You smirk, squirming on his lap before leaning over to whisper in his ear, "isn't daddy all talk and no show?"

"Daddy doesn't want to hurt his baby," he mutters, tracing one of his hands along your back to your neck. Though, losing his grasp on his own tongue, he lets out a chuckle and looks away from you, "bless my soul, I thought I'd be able to keep a straight face through this vulgar oration, but turns out I can't really utter anything without absolutely cringing my spine."

"Why not?" you laugh along him, as his eyes are back on you, twinkling with unsaid words, "I believe, you said it was a part of your "kinks" and preferences."

He shrugs, slightly shifting you on his lap, "it is; however I don't want our fellow readers to crawl out of their skin listening to me exaggerate..."

You peck his lips and shut him up, "I bet the readers like it. So, don't you worry about it."

"The main concern should be, do you like it?" he rasps, his voice husky, "it's important to know if you're comfortable or not."

You brush your lips against his, "it might take me some time to get used to it. Not a lot of guys I had been with, dabbled in this kink, you know."

"Lot of guys?" he instigates, his lips curling into his cheek, revealing his canines, "how many guys have you been with before us?"

"I never asked you how many women you've been with before me," you drawl, jutting your lower lip out, "why do you care, anyway?"

Sliding his hand further up your neck, he entangles his fingers in your hair and pulls you with it; you arch your head back, succumbing to his strength and chuckling softly before he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He traces pleasant kisses on your skin, eventually letting his tongue dart over to lick and suck, eliciting pretty sounds from your mouth.

He murmurs his words, letting them collide with your skin, "fine. I'll tell you everything. Would you like that?"

His hand which had stayed around your waist, tightens and using your body to have some leverage, he bucks his hips into yours. The thin material of his sweatpants wasn't enough to let the impression of his erection go unnoticed by you; seemingly immersed in the sensation his lips offered and the way his hardening cock rubbed against your inner thigh, you let out a mangled gasp, smiling to yourself.

"Sure—ah fuck—sure, tell me everything about your past." In your line of sight, you could only catch the minute glimpse of his tousled hair tickling your throat.

Seonghwa hauls a soft chortle against your collarbone; not knowing when he had drifted off from kissing your throat, to your collarbones, you whimper ever so slightly, lurching over to hug his shoulders tighter in your grasp. Your body somehow manages to stay on his lap, somehow rattling to his the movements of his hips and the sensitive teasing of his lips on your collarbones; if you were to squirm or shift even to the slightest to your side, you would be slipping out of his lap and landing ass-first on the floor.

"What, do you need a number or names?" he jokes, "I'm bad with both. Could never keep a count, or remember their names."

"That's just sad," you enunciate, shuddering to his teeth sinking right above one of your collarbones, "very much like you, I don't recall a lot of things from my past endeavours either."

Seonghwa hums along, "you certainly know how to play a risky game, don't you?" teasing you with his teeth, he proffers a few more nibbles to your flesh before pulling back. His hand drops from your hair and lets you move your head freely; though, he brings the same hand down to cup a side of your face, "don't bite more than you can chew."

"Oh, you're one to talk," you retort, rolling your eyes at him, "aren't you redirecting my attention to something else." He understands your intentions when you subtly glance down, and scoff, "I thought we were going to eat. You just seem to have all different kinds of ideas, anything but eating breakfast, apparently."

"And who's responsible for putting these ideas in my head?" he taunts you, patting your cheek before backing himself away and wrapping both his arms around your waist.

A dark sheet of serenity falls over the two of you, simmering your thoughts till he's making an effort to create a sound. Seonghwa's grip tightens around your figure, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he mumbles, "I've slept with many women in my past, maybe a few men here and there; but I could never connect with them on a spiritual level. Could never engage each other in meaningful conversations. Our emotional compatibility was almost close to negligible, so we kept it limited to our bodily passions and intimacies. All of my past experiences, they're more jarring than you could ever imagine them to be."

You listen to him draw in a sharp breath, his chest heaving into yours when he does. For the fractioned beat of a second, he grows quiet and then sighs, breaking his silence, "in the end, I came to terms with it; I had no problems living that lifestyle, even though it was, in practicality, destroying me." He adds, "so, due to my internalised needs and desires, I stopped meddling with the dating culture altogether. Now, I wander around, meeting new faces every night and indulging in most of my darkest desires."

"Does that sate your curiosities, sweetheart?" he wrings out a jagged laugh, shaking his head, "I truly hope so."

You nod, "yeah."

There's an underlying forethought concealed in Seonghwa's eyes; it glimmers softly while you're still figuring your way through the labyrinth of his words. Seonghwa may not be as forthcoming as you might have predicted him to be, though you couldn't really judge after only living with him for a month or so. It took time for him to peel his shell off, engage with you in much profound and deeper conversations about literally anything and those tête à têtes were your habitual secrets to seeking an ardent relationship with him.

"Good," he smiles, "let's eat then. I can feel my stomach growling for some food, while I'm starting to see stars behind my eyelids."

"Oh, you're so dramatic," you playfully scoff, before propping the lid off the pot, "and so hungry today. Are you sure it's food that you're craving and not something else?"

"What else would I crave on a Saturday morning?" he deadpans, licking his lips.

"I don't know, I was thinking about..." you trail off and let out a simple laugh, "me, aren't you craving me to fill your mouth with my sweetness..."

Seonghwa groans, keeping a mellowed out smile on his lips, "daddy's little girl really wants to test his patience, doesn't she? Well, daddy is going to make sure his little girl knows not to tease him."

Your spine crumbles to his husky voice, his arms tracing up your sides; fingers clasping onto the hem of your shirt, he lifts it over your head and discards it down on the floor. A soft crinkle resounds, but you aren't too bothered by it, because you were too fazed by his warm breath prickling your skin, fanning with an intensity. Bare chest, see-through demeanour, you fix your hungry eyes on his and wait for them to shift a shade, wait for them to lose all the light before he becomes feral in a way only you could understand. Wetting your lips, you slide your hands into his hair, picking at the soft tuft of ebony strands, and tangling yourself in the much needed strength. And there it goes without saying, ambient dark shrouds his eyes and a smirk fleets on his lips.

Till the time a breathless gasp leaves your mouth, his face is buried in between your tits. His tongue slithers out, rubbing up stripes, licking your skin; a moan gets trapped in your chest when you find the same warmth graze along your sternum. His lips hover over one of your tits, you're anticipating when he opens his mouth and engulfs you with a want you had been sitting on. However, he doesn't give it much thought before wrapping his soft lips around your flesh and guiding his mouth down. All in his mouth, you bite your lip and throw your head back, eyes screwing shut with the absolute pleasure you were bubbling with.

Your arousal seeps through your shorts when his teeth sink in lightly at first, and then he bites down, hard enough for his teeth to mark your skin. Strapping his hands to your waist and pulling himself away from your chest, he somehow manages to shuffle you on his lap. A second sounds in your head and his mouth is back on your chest; immersed in the holy delight of his lips and mouth sucking your tit, you voice a strangled whimper and fist your hands in his hair. Seonghwa winces at the way you were tugging on his hair, but doesn't make a sound and continues to do what he had taken up on.

Somber serenity in the surrounding is filled with fervent echoes of moans, groans and whimpers, all shuddering from your mouth; your lips remain parted, your eyes now half-lidded to gaze down at Seonghwa, and your cunt leaking with excitement. Whiling himself in his own carnality, he slides one of his hands up from your waist and gropes your other tit. The softness of his hand caresses your skin before the raggedness of his fingers envelops it whole. Pinching your taut nipple in between his thumb and forefinger, he lets it roll before pulling on it.

"Ah, fuck—Seonghwa," you voicelessly mutter out, bucking your hips into his to let your clothed cunt grind against his thigh, "you—you fucking switched up—you just—keep doing that, please."

Your desperation amuses him, but he doesn't let go. Seonghwa's tongue keeps lapping and tickling your taut nipple by rubbing its tip too harshly over it. At this point, you're gasping for air and your lungs could collapse any moment due to the suffocation your mind brought upon them. Moving your hips vigorously to a steady pace, you try to get as much friction against his thigh as you could. Internally, you writhe with a bolt of desperation striking down every rational thought in your body. While his other hand stays around your waist, he supports your back and lets you ride his thigh.

The slick of your arousal is starting to seep through your shorts and soaking into his sweatpants; if you could translate your and his neediness, you both wanted the same things. To rid yourself of your clothes. You were piqued beyond your desires, wanting to rub your drenched pussy against his bare thigh, and Seonghwa had his heart in his mouth, picturing how pretty you'd look cumming on his thigh. With his hand slipping against the small of your back, he gives you subtle hint and you take it; propping yourself on your feet, you stand while Seonghwa pulls away from your chest and suppresses a groggy grunt in his stomach.

"I better have you moaning my name when you're riding my thigh."

As he voices the steepest craving of his heart, he pinches your nipple harder and twists it in between his forefinger and thumb; you gasp, your lungs burning to the sting of your chest while you're starting to pool in your shorts.

"Do you understand that little girl?" he emphasises and tugs harshly on your nipple, red blotches starting to fade in across your skin.

"Yes—yes," you mutter, catching a breath, but aren't really given much time when Seonghwa's hand cups your tit before the palm lands flat and harsh against it.

"What do we say, Angel?" he slurs your name, and it rolls off his tongue coated with honey.

"Yes, daddy." he nods, willingly palming your tit before slapping it again, "that's what I like to hear, hmm..."

The meagre vibrations of his voice are just resonating in your ears when his delicate touches ghost your waist. Your bare skin gets trickled with goosebumps the moment he engulfs you in his warmth. Effortlessly, as you meet his eyes, pleading him to rid you from your shorts, he hooks his fingers under the waistband and tugs them down. Not a second is wasted in kicking the shorts off your body; they lay strewn on the floor, sprawled by the legs of Seonghwa's chair.

You're about to lower yourself back into his lap when he makes you cease your actions with a simple nudge of his head. Seonghwa, unfazed by your glistening cunt, quickly pulls his sweatpants down and lets them bunch at his ankles. Trapping a mewl in your chest, you then straddle a side of him, situating yourself and your aroused cunt on one of his thighs.

"Hmm, fuck me, Angel," Seonghwa moans, throwing his head back when he feels your slick caress his skin, "you're fucking leaking down here. Such a—such a wet cunt rubbing up and down my thigh," he takes a deep breath and squints his eyes close, "you seriously want me to lose it, don't you?"

You bite down on your lower lip and nod your head, pressing your back into his thigh and letting your cunt drag over; the very first brush of your folds against his skin was ecstatic, beaming a haze of sheer raw carnality through your body. Seonghwa catches his breath and straightens his head to have his gaze fixed on you. The specs of brown are mild and pale in his eyes, mostly because they were concealed behind a thick curtain of lust. The look in his eye is quite similar to the one you had caught up on that night, the night where you were sandwiched in between Yunho and him.

"I just—I just want to cum," you cry in absolute agony, the dragging minutes turning your arousal painful and harrowing. "I can't—Hwa, I can't take this much long—longer."

"Darling, no one's stopping you," he growls, "go ahead, make a mess on my thigh," he clicks his tongue and shakes his head, a sly smile curving his lips, "or does daddy's little girl need his cock to set her straight?"

When he rasps his words, you let a part of your sanity slip away into the dark of your lust; craving most of him, you rock your hips against his thigh, your wet folds fretting with a want so inhumanly strong to break you apart in meagre seconds. Needless to say, you were long gone, led astray in the land of darkness and pure lechery. How could you take things slow when you were beyond any hope, beyond the particulars of your aroused body forcing you to fold and rile up in all the worst ways possible. Your body jolts to the upheaving urge of suffering; cinched by your mind, you tense up the moment a tight knot fickle with your gut.

Winding your arms around his shoulders, you procure a much needed leverage for your hips to rub on his thigh. The sensation kept dragging out your high, kept you in the steady motion while you were whimpering in utmost pleasure. And the man under you was completely unfazed, however bewildered and amused to watch you use him to help you come undone. This was his first time watching you so desperate for him, his first time touching your cunt; it blew up a fuse in his head, mouth drooling at the sight of you and your tits bouncing, the sinful sounds your mouth parted with, and how lusciously loud you were starting to get. Combusting with the remaining desire, you steady the rhythm of your hips and tighten your arms around his shoulders. Your cunt kept clenching around nothing, your clit in a sensory overdose from grinding for long and your needy self still ached to be filled by him. Moans grew louder, your eyes welled with tears and blurred your vision.

"Daddy..." a whimper shudders in your most devastating voice ever, "I want you—I want your cock, please. I need you—I need you so bad, daddy."

Seonghwa's unholy chuckle resounds only a little when he immerses himself in the play of his cravings and dives in to lick your already shimmering tits. His spit layers on your skin, his cock springing and straining in his briefs at the way your delicate cunt kept stroking his thigh. This could be the ultimate end of your struggle, you were so sure the tension in your stomach would ease out if you continued for even a minute more. But to your disappointment, one of Seonghwa's hands comes down to caress your mound; he offers you a little slap before using his other hand to stop you. A bashing strike of his hand against your stomach is enough to bring you out of the daze, to have your hips rolling back while your body manages to comprehend the situation.

"Hmm," Seonghwa clicks his tongue, "my little girl needs daddy's cock to fuck her good, hmm..?" continuing to muse, he mumbles against your chest, "such a needy little girl."

"Please daddy," you whisper, tilting your head down to meet his eye.

"Get on your feet," he commands and you oblige, standing up with your legs on either side of his.

Seonghwa lets a teasing curve slide on his lips before he starts pulling his briefs down; he manages to slip them off his legs, shoving them to a side while he glances at you and how your eyes were tracing every inch of his cock. Indeed, you were staring down at him, salivating with the anticipation of when you'd be stuffed by him. Biting back on a groan, you could barely keep yourself up, merely have strength to keep yourself on your feet. When your knees buckle with an absolute want and feeble enthusiasm, you land straight in his lap. Seonghwa clicks his tongue, in an attempt to distract you from the embarrassment you thought you were delving in; he pulls your further down by your waist and lets the tip of cock nudge a side of your inner thigh.

In the heat of the moment, you mewl from the pit of your stomach and lurch into his chest. Simmering kisses along his clothed chest and collarbones, you graze your lips painfully slow to meet his; a fracture in time melts all boundaries for your rationality, and the next thing you know, you're licking his lips and shoving your tongue into his mouth. You pry his mouth further open, letting it fall wide while your tongue slithers past his and plunges to the base of his throat.

Seonghwa hums, letting you do as you please; he was more concentrated on bucking his hips into yours, to let you feel his hard cock, let it dent in your lower belly. You're far too gone, though a few minutes prior to this you were on the edge cumming, and now you're riling yourself up again. Pressing your tongue against the roof of Seonghwa's mouth, you shift in his lap and situate yourself in a desperate position. Your cunt stroked up his cock, the tip almost slipping inside but you veer slightly to let it slide out and up your mound. Musty stench of sweat and sex had already dissipated in the morning air, how the sunshine basked in glory of shining across your bodies and entrapping them in warmth of refined pleasure.

Breathless, Seonghwa pulls you by your waist and angles his head back; he takes a lug of air through his mouth and lets his lips mould into a smirk.

"What was that?" he questions, his husky voice dwindling to a mere whisper, "my little girl knows how to play, doesn't she...?"

You nod, succumbing to such neediness that you have to stable yourself by holding onto his shoulders. "Yes daddy..."

Seonghwa has had a good grasp on his untamed mind for quite long. Though he knows he's going to lose it soon, and the more you heed him by the word he so often goes crazy listening to, he might not really not go too easy on you. His hands glide down the small of your back and cup your ass. While his eyes are too busy fixated on you, he leans in to catch your lower lip in between his teeth. You give into him because you were wasted, intoxicated by carnality to have any logical notions to think straight. The raggedness of his calloused hands rubs against your ass. Taking the hint, you lift yourself only a bit for him to guide you down onto his cock. And he might have struggled a little to slip inside you, because he was distracted by your desperate eyes and the way he had trapped your lower lip in his mouth.

You whine, managing to get your words out, "fuck—daddy, I need you—fucking please."

"You're doing great so far, love," he praises you, freeing your lip from his clasp and continues, "come on, you can get it in by yourself, can't you?"

On the verge of crying out, you quickly nod your head and bring one of your hands down from his shoulder to wrap it around his cock. You give him a few strokes along the shaft and then proceed to pump his tip; bracing yourself, you use the same hand to align him against you, your attention solely fixed on Seonghwa's as he watches you with so much admiration. The moment the tip of his cock prods with your folds, his brows scrunch to the centre and his eyes flutter close. He voices a guttural moan, clasping down hard on his lower lip while you swallow the length of his cock. It slips right in because of your abundant arousal leaking out; he grows harder inside of you, twitching slightly you completely sink down and wrap your velvet walls around him.

"Ah, fuck. Angel..." he mutters under his breath, peeling his eyes open to find you were equally stuck in the trance of pleasure with him, "is daddy's cock perfect for you?"

You nod, "yes, daddy's cock—daddy's cock fits so well in my cunt."

And there goes your ability to structure cogent responses and voice them at the same time. You were bound to get drunk on all the dopamine and serotonin dispersed in your bloodstream; Seonghwa's body was just another excuse for your brain's haphazard behaviour. His cock nestles deep in your cunt, slightly straining again as you try to adjust to the stretch and his length. Seonghwa may not be as girthy or thick as Yunho, or Jongho for that matter, regardless, he had a good length to reach places which were probably not easily accessible to anyone. It wasn't a good time to recall, but the night you deep throated this man, you were practically left sore in your throat and Yunho's suggestion of drinking hot tea was a failed attempt.

"Such a good girl," Seonghwa mumbles, slotting one of his hands in the small of your back and tracing up the other one to your neck, "such a good fucking whore to take my—take my cock in. Feels good, hmm? Daddy's cock feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you whimper, wincing softly before leaning over to envelope his shoulders with your arms. "Daddy's cock—daddy's cock feels really good. So fucking good."

Your voice starts breaking towards the end; throat drying to the possible thought of rolling his hips against his, for his cock to plunge even deeper than this. The moment you try to move your hips even an inch, Seonghwa slaps a hand across your tits to get you out of the daze. Bothered and immensely frustrated, you let out a saccade series of jumbled up whines and gasp.

"Fuck—what was—what was that for?" you stutter, watching the man with tears in the corners of your eyes.

"Don't move." He smirks, "not yet."

"Why not?"

Seonghwa's smirk grows deep into his cheek, "because I'm hungry. And I need to eat."

"Fucking really?" you heave out a low-pitched laugh, sliding your arms down to the hem of his shirt, "daddy really is un-fucking-predictable."

"And daddy's little girl shouldn't have such a foul mouth on her," he teases, bringing his hand again to strike it against your chest; to you surprise he doesn't, rather he slaps your already puffed cunt, "hope she's aware daddy knows a way to cleanse it. Does she want—ah fuck, love, you're clenching around me."

He leans over to grunt in your ear, "be a good little girl while I have my breakfast, darling. And I'll give you what you deserve, hmm?"

"Okay," you murmur, but bite your tongue, adding, "daddy..."

Seonghwa scoffs playfully and props your body against his chest; he makes sure you're resting on him while he reaches out to the cutlery holder on the table to grab himself a spoon. The plates were ready in front of him beforehand, from back then. He helps him to a small serve of the rice you two had cooked together. As the rice spills over the plate, his spoon clatters delicately; he collects a spoonful and brings it close to your mouth. In all honesty, you were indeed hungry, but didn't want to admit it to him. Not when you were frisky and needy in the beginning.

"Here," he rests the spoon by your lower lip, "open wide."

Rolling your eyes at his trivial attempt at mockery, you open your mouth and let him put the spoonful of rice in. The spicy and tangy undertones hit your taste buds, quickly followed by the crunch of veggies. You were baffled, struck by a dilemma; there was a party of flavours in your mouth and in the merry land of downtown, your cunt was stuffed with his cock. Which plight was more engaging and pleasurable? Obviously, eating.

You hum in a strangled manner, gazing at Seonghwa who himself had a spoonful of rice in his mouth. A blotch of sauce stains under his lip, just below on his chin and your mind goes off with an idea. Leaning in, your breath fans along his nose and lips, eventually turning intense on his chin. Your tongue darts out in the latter second and laps up the stain. You've licked it clean, and while you were immersed in doting on Seonghwa's lowly groans, you could feel him twitch in your cunt. It turned him on. Victory for you.

"Really?"

"What?" you act coy, rolling your hips into his to let the tip of his cock thrust into you slightly. "You've got weird kinks, I did what I thought you'd like..." you drag it to a mumble, "daddy."

He shakes his head, a smile splaying on his lips; he gets another spoonful of rice and feeds it to you. Again, you relish on the savoury taste and moan softly. Again, Seonghwa's cock pulsates in your cunt.

"I do." He answers to your priorly posed question, "in fact, feeding you is weirdly turning me on."

"Touché," you roll your eyes.

"Do you want to cum or not?" he mocks, sliding his other hand up your bare stomach to grope one of your tits.

"You're a fucking tease."

Uh-oh.

You shouldn't have said that.

'Cause the moment those words left your lips, Seonghwa's eyes lost their light, and his lips pursed together in a straight line. He lets the spoon drop against the plate, clattering louder at the impact and the echoes kept resonating around. You swallow thickly, your mind fogged with deliberate thoughts of him and anticipation. It takes a fraction of a second for Seonghwa to thrust his hips into yours, ramming his cock further up your cunt. You press on a moan, fumbling with your arms to allot them a place to rest; finding his shoulders perfect for your body to support itself you tangle them around him and hope for the best.

"Fine," he mutters, growling through his words halfway, "I'll get straight to the point then. Get on your feet."

His voice is as dark as his eyes, stern clear and firm; you swallow down on a lump in your throat again, and get on your feet. When you do, though, his cock slips out of your cunt and you wince at the emptiness; your much elated indulgence comes to a sudden halt but it doesn't leave you quite yet. As you're steadying your quavery feet on the floor, Seonghwa stands up from his chair and steps out of his sweatpants pooling around his ankles. Your eyes meet with his, losing yourself to the push and pull of your horniness; he takes a step towards you, while your back is pressed up against the table. The edge of the table dents into your flesh, but it's nothing compared to the steely despair in your stomach which bubbles through your body. He lurches over and rests his arms on either side of you, putting his hands on the table to trap you in between his body.

"Ass out, little girl," he rasps, "daddy is going to remind you how to behave around him."

With little to no resistance in your mind, you flip your body over and stick your ass out; he, on the other hand, does not hesitate in grabbing your waist or pulling your ass back into his crotch. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it up to clutch it in between his teeth; the shirt rides up and exposes his toned abdomen, and chest. You glance over your shoulder to bask in the sight, the delicious sight of him biting down on the hem of his shirt and sporting a smirk on his lips. There's no denying, he was a piece of art and even more so, he appeared so fucking hot while pushing himself into you. His cock nudges against your asscheek as he rolls his hips into your rear; he continues to do so until his cock slips perfectly in between, under your cunt. The tip prods with your slit, tracing back and forth till he makes an attempt to sink into your warmth.

Seonghwa's grunt is partially coarse when he plunges the tip of his cock into you. The way he slips in so effortlessly into your cunt, reminds you how wet and aroused you were. Though, you wouldn't have minded if he had rubbed his cock along your slit for few more minutes; it was driving you insane how he drags his ministrations and tipping you off the edge. Your patience were disintegrating and it was hard to keep up with your body.

"Fuck, Angel," he slurs his words, "you're swallowing me in, fuck—so fucking eager."

He winds an arm around your waist, resting it right over your stomach to steady you before pushing himself further into your hips. Inch by inch, the entirety of his cock is buried in your cunt, the fullness causes you to tremble and shudder, forcing you to take a deep breath which apparently only stings your lungs. Seonghwa uses his other hand to slot it in the curve of your back, pushing you over the table and bending you into him. It was all about the convenience, finding the perfect angle for his cock to thrust and ram into all the good places inside you.

"Seonghwa..." you whimper, resting your hands in front of you, holding onto the table as you're pushed into it with his force. "Fuck—daddy, you're—a little faster, please."

Stringing out a few words to create something coherent, at least you thought you were. Seonghwa's thrusts pick up their pace, only by a tempo while he still teases you: he pushes in till the base of his cock, and pulls out fully to leave you whining on the empty feeling. He does that quite a lot, frequently slipping out of you and sliding back in with much fervent enthusiasm than before. The teasing was only so much you could handle at the given moment of time, because you were already in the hopeless state of mind, wanting to be railed by him without any restrictions or distractions.

It had certainly left your mind that you stayed here with seven others men; one of which who resents you but the other six are patient, awaiting on their chance with you. If any one of them were to walk in on the two of you, it'd be a mess. Not that you did not anticipate it. You would be propelled into a new world of kinks and chaos if someone were to watch you get dicked down by Seonghwa. Just picturing it makes you clench around Seonghwa's cock, groaning at the slow-paced thrusts and pokes he eventually made at your clit with the tip of it. You were beyond helpless and had a vague outline of future possibilities streaming in your mind. That is, if someone were to really walk in on the two of you, you really hoped it to be Yunho.

Fuck. That doesn't seem like a good idea, considering Yunho had conveyed a part of his jealousy when you were sucking Seonghwa's face off that one night. If he were to see you get railed by his friend, it'd make him vicious enough to pull Seonghwa off of you and complete the task himself.

Probably, you'd want San to walk in on you two; there's no logic to this, but to your better judgement, it seems right for him to. You and San hadn't had much of an interaction, though you're a hundred percent assured he'd revel in the sight of your ass sticking out and into Seonghwa's crotch. San was definitely an ass guy.

"What are you thinking about?" Seonghwa asks, losing his grasp on his shirt; it falls down over your back, tickling your skin softly.

"Nothing—nothing really."

"Liar. Tell me," he chuckles, dark and loud. "I know you're—fuck—thinking about something."

Seonghwa's grunt settles heavy against your shoulder when he pushes his cock back into and proceeds to fuck you with the tip; he leans in to rest his chin on your shoulder, his ragged breathing harsh against your skin, tickling a side of your face and your ear. The material of shirt chafes your skin to the slightest degree, but should you really be worried about that? Your mind had been numb to his cock prodding and thrusting harshly into you, the rhythm of his hips not once faltering; he's certainly going at it, but somehow drawling out your orgasm and his too. He brings both of his hands on either side of your waist, clutching and denting your flesh with his fingers.

"I know what you're thinking about," he groans, "fuck—what if someone were to—what if someone walks in on us, hmm?"

You moan, "daddy..."

"Little girl wants someone to watch her while she gets—fuck—while she gets railed by her daddy, hmm?"

"Yeah, thinking bout someone—someone watching me."

"Ah, daddy's little girl is really filthy," he plunges deep into you, the tip of his cock settling in your warmth, "wants someone to watch her—wants others to see how good—fuck—how fucking good her daddy fucks her."

"Please," you mewl, nails scratching against the wood of the table, varnish slipping under them. "Please daddy—wanna—wanna be a good girl for you."

"Hmm," he hums close to your ear, licking up a stripe to bite down on the shell of it, "you are. Such a good girl—such a good fucking girl—fuck, taking daddy's cock so fucking well."

His hips rattle your body, the pace building up to a heavy speed, and continuing to follow so; pushing at your back, he bends you further onto the table, almost pushing your chest flat against it. In your haphazard world, you are cautious not to fall on the half eaten plate of food and the little sauce pan of rice which remained covered. You turn your head to the side, cheek pressed up against the wooden top and catch in the glimpse of Seonghwa's sweaty face. A few drops cascade down his forehead, while a few strands of his stuck too close to his skin. He has a very fucked look in his eyes, losing himself to the insatiable temptation of hitting you from the back.

You stretch your hands in front of you, pressing the palms flat and supporting your body to the wild impacts of his hips. As the benign force of his thrusts causes you to oscillate back and forth against the table, you're somehow lost in the trance while staring at him. Seonghwa throws his head back, his throat arching so perfectly, so expressive of him; his adam's quivers under his skin, and he screws his eyes shut. You're on the verge of letting your tears slide down your face, stricken with immense pleasure and delight in the way his cock was ploughing through your puffy walls.

"Good girl for..." you muffle your words on your spit, the drool starting to accumulate and trickle past your mouth. "Good girl for daddy."

"Yes, sweetheart . Such a sweet girl." Seonghwa replies incoherently and continues, "such a sweet little cunt, swallowing my cock in—so fucking well."

He had lost it too; he rambled useless words in the daze of your walls cleaning around him. It was the sweet disposition which got him to thrust himself even deeper. Too deep. Too many long and hard thrusts. His crotch and lower abdomen stays flushed with your ass, his thighs boring into your hips with every thrust of his. The tip of his cock plunges in the steeper end of you, pushing through your walls and jolting your body close to your orgasm. One of Seonghwa's hands comes to rest on the nape of your neck, wrapping delicately before pushing your head further into the table. His other hand lays flat against the small of your back, somehow forcing you to arch your ass into his cock. It worked.

"Daddy..." you moan, eyes half-lidded and lips slick with your drool; not just your lips, your chin had a sheeny coat of your spit.

"A little more, darling," Seonghwa groans.

When you whimpered his name, it was the point of no return for him; he diverts his mind towards your cunt, and how your warmth had engulfed his cock in sheer pleasure. Your walls tauten around him, and devour his cock further into your heat. You weren't fond of the table, your body felt sore and aching against it; and his thrusts weren't easing out any of the pain, not when he had picked them up. The inhumane lunges of his hips, shoved his cock deep. Stroking his thumb on the back of your neck, he leans over to rest his forehead on your shoulder blade. His hot breath fans your skin, edging you close to your orgasm.

A unlikely and familiar heaviness knots in your gut, twisting them ferociously as your stomach growls with a need. Seonghwa's cock keeps hitting you in all the right places, in all the right ways; you were minutes away from crumpling down and easing out your orgasm. Sensing your walls clench around his pulsating cock, Seonghwa peppers your shoulder with gentle and light kisses. The fluttering sensation crawls down to your stomach and causes it to twist; you're so close, almost on the verge of letting it go. The hand resting against your back, traces up the length of your arm and pulls it down; he bends it over and slots it in the curve of your back. Doing the same with your other arm, he has both of them together against your back, while he traps your wrists in his death grip. You're far too fucked out of your mind to resist against anything.

"Go on, sweetheart," he whispers, "you deserve it—fuck—go on, make a fucking mess on daddy's cock."

"Holy fuck—I'm—I'm fucking—I'm..." your voice gets lost in the sound of your skin slapping with his.

That was it. The last bits of his words make you go crazy, snapping every string of self-restraint and control, cutting off every thought to your brain and body. He drills his cock into you, keeping it concise and easy, and you're unravelling all over him. The knot in your gut nicks at your stomach, tightening it up further in your chest, and when the lightness washes you down, you relax your muscles and hear your juices splash. The cold drops trickle down your inner thighs, coating every inch of his cock as he continues to thrust through it.

"Such a good girl," Seonghwa growls, stuttering in his words, "daddy's gonna fill you up, sweetheart—daddy's gonna fill this sweet little cunt up."

Your lungs burn, your throat feels a little sore and your body feels lethargic; you're almost certain you'd pass out if he were to continue like this. Seonghwa heaves out a groan, which comes out hard from his chest as he fixes his drunken gaze on your face. His continues to caress his thumb against the back of your neck, which you had forgotten about a few minutes ago, and rolls his thighs into yours; his hips stay flushed against yours for a meagre second until he's pulling back. Keeping up with this, he thrusts in deep for the last time before his cock twitches with the urge; drenching your walls in his warmth, he spurts his load into you and rides it out with a few more thrusts.

The warmth of his cum dribbles on your skin, trailing further down to your knees when he pulls out. Emptiness scorns your body, pulling it out of the trance and your mind clears up with the post-orgasm clarity. His heat dissipates to cold air when he pulls himself away from you; stepping back, he heaves out a heavy sigh and runs a hand through his sticky and sweaty hair. You take a moment, a short second to compose your breathing before pushing yourself from the table. Your body feels lightweight and relaxed, but at the same time, you're drained. Even standing on your feet seemed like a task you'd fail at miserably. You plop down on the chair instead, hugging its backrest close to your chest and resting your head down against its edge.

"Now, that was something," a deep voice rumbles; the man clicks his tongue and pulls your attention on him. You raise your head up, almost too quickly and it gives you a good whiplash.

"How long have you been standing there for?" Seonghwa questions, pulling his briefs and sweatpants over his waist. He sounds a little breathless as well. Obviously.

"Fuck," you whisper under your breath, your naked form in all its glory in front of the man you hadn't spoken to a lot before.

He stood aimlessly by the kitchen's entrance, giving him the flawless view of you and Seonghwa doing it on the dining table. You were trembling with so much excitement after knowing there indeed was someone watching you while you got dicked down. But you did not expect it to be him. Not at all. The man has a flustered face, cheeks, the tip of his nose and ears, tainted with the subtle shade of red. He wore a black tank top and grey jogger shorts, his long ebony shaded hair sat disheveled yet neatly framed his face; half of it was tied back in a small and messy ponytail, while most of his hair stayed loose and tickled the sides of his face.

"Since she brought up someone walking in on your two," he simply shrugs and steers his gaze away from Seonghwa and onto you, "don't worry, Angel. You were fucking hot, writhing under his body. Look—" he glances down, and you do too, finding a tent in his shorts, "—my cock was so excited to see you like that."

"Well, we're actually done," Seonghwa wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans down to kiss your temple, "she's all yours if you want her."

The man standing by the kitchen, with a chilled water bottle in his hand, muses and contemplates for a good minute before his sleazy smile turns into a mischievous smirk. He unscrews the cap of his water bottle and chugs a good amount of water before sighing out in satisfaction and putting the cap back on. You could roughly translate what his eyes spoke to you at that moment, there's no way you wouldn't understand the hunger and wildness in them. And if you were honest, he was the last person you wanted to spend your time with.

"Sounds good," he mumbles, "we actually have a bone to pick, don't we Angel?"

Seonghwa gawks, "oh really?"

"Yeah," the latter continues, "we better get it done, right Angel." his voice drops down a baritone and his eyes lose their jubilant temperament, "you've already pissed me off too much, Angel. I better not find you stalling today as well."

Dread crawls your stomach and your mind goes blank, if it isn't the consequences of your actions. You're biting on your tongue, wondering how you'd get out of this. If you recall anything from the past, you might remember you were handed a contract and asked to read through it. You stalled, procrastinated and did everything else but pay any attention to that contract over the past week. Of course, now the devil haunts you, just as he had been haunting you in the past week. To your defence, the contact withheld a lot of information and most of the times, you'd fall asleep reading it. So, you put that task off till you were in a good mood and free from your university assignments. That day never came actually.

Yeosang's smirk grows in his cheek, his eyes devouring your naked stature as whole before he heaves out a breath and tugs at the straps of his tank top. You had no idea what he was thinking about. There was no way to know since you weren't a mind reader. But if you could vaguely rely on your imagination, you could tell he was thinking of ways to punish you. And that somehow, turned you on like a bitch. You were yet to venture into his kink, know his preferences and the anonymity itself made you wet, wetter than before when you were with Seonghwa.

"She's all yours, Sangie." Seonghwa kisses your cheek this time, "just give her some time to clean herself. I came in too hard."

"Of course, but yeah," you chime in, an awkward chuckle leaving your lips, "why don't I take a shower and meet you in your room once I'm done?"

He listens to your suggestion intently, ponders over it and breaks his silence to give out his testimony. "It's just cum, I'm fine with it."

As the serenity falls over the three of you, Yeosang clears his throat, "come on now."

You tense up, your shoulders going stiff and your body convulsing; you were caught up in your mind, reeling back to your moment with Seonghwa. Regardless, you were attentive enough to listen Seonghwa's clueless chatter further on.

"What is this about, Sangie?"

Yeosang shrugs, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms over his chest; the way his muscles bulge and flex, cause you to lose a part of your sanity. "Do you want to join us for a round two?"

Seonghwa shakes his head, while you're comprehending what Yeosang had just uttered and why was it so filthily hot coming from his mouth. "I wish," the older sighs, "gotta clean up the mess here and then wake the others up. I've got a few tasks lined up for the day, too. I'm taking a rain check, regardless of how fun it sounds."

His warmth clashes against your forehead when he turns and leans down to kiss it, "Angel helped me with my lethargy in the morning. I'm as refreshed as a daisy blooming on a Sunday morning."

Yeosang hums and Seonghwa adds in a mere whisper directed to you, "I have something planned for you tonight, though. Meet me in my room after dinner, hmm?"

You nod, eyes shuffling across the span of the space to meet Yeosang's; he has something lurking in his, something cruel, a few dwelling strokes of sinister intentions and a bit of malice to have your heart palpitating for no reason whatsoever. Shifting your legs on the chair you sat on, you sense something trickle down from between your thighs; the jolt of realisation strikes you hard and you quickly get on your feet before you stain the chair.

Seonghwa casts you a bemused glance, and upon understanding your actions, he lets out a soft chuckle. "It's fine, Angel. You don't have to worry about it."

You pout, "I wouldn't want to add in to your troubles, you've got a lot of them already."

"I can manage, Angel."

Seonghwa shakes his head and picks up your shorts; he hands them to you and you're quick to slip into them, preventing any flow out that might cause with your curt movements. Running his eyes on your bare chest, and the emerging purple blotches around your neck and tits, he grabs your shirt as well, and tugs it over your head. Exalted by his mannerisms, your heart does a little leap and drops down to your stomach.

"Well, thanks..."

"Are you two done?" Yeosang questions, voicing out his ire and annoyance.

"Yes," Seonghwa laughs, "go easy on her, Sangie. She's new to your kink."

"I'll think about it." The latter smirks and straightens himself off the wall, "any day now, Angel. I hate it when people keep me waiting."

"And it irks me even more when they aren't obedient."

M.list | Previous | Next

[thebibliosphere]

hey idk if you would be able to answer this but thought I would put it out there. so I have eds and THOUGHT i was having allergic reactions but a skin test at an allergist said i have literally 0 true allergies. is histamine intolerance similar to moderate allergic reactions? Ive been through most of your health tags and done research but cant really find any forward answers. its all MAY or MAY NOT

Unfortunately, you’re not finding any straightforward answers because allergies and non-IgE-mediated allergic reactions are poorly understood, even by some allergists. (usually the gaslighty kind 🙃)

It is entirely possible to test negative for allergic reactions for things you are absolutely having allergic reactions to.

This is because allergy tests focus ONLY on “true” IgE allergies and do not take into account that there are other underlying mechanisms that can cause mast cells to degranulate, which is what happens when you have an allergic reaction.

In an IgE reaction, the cells become unstable, releasing various hormones/chemical responses, which is what we know as annoying allergic reactions in minor cases, and anaphylaxis is severe responses.

In a functional immune system, these chemicals should really only be released in response to a true IgE allergy.

When your immune system is a little over-reactive, they can release in response to stress (this is what causes stress hives, and we now think some cases of IBS) and sometimes things like viral illnesses. This is why so many people have developed MCAS or MCAS-like symptoms after having covid. (mask up, besties)

Sometimes, however, the “off” switch in the immune system gets broken, and the mast cells become increasingly over-reactive, and that's when you can start developing new or seemingly random allergies that are inconsistent and don't show up on IgE allergen test panels. It’s why you’ll sometimes see the term “idiopathic anaphylaxis” in people who have anaphylaxis that can’t be explained. Well, the explanation is wonky mast cells. Why are they wonky? We’re not really sure.

Perhaps if the medical world hadn’t ignored its existence for ten+ years and focused so much on gaslighting patients until a mass pandemic hit, we would.

This type of mast cell degranulation, triggered by a non-IgE-mediated reaction, is common in histamine intolerance and mast cell activation syndrome, which can also be comorbid with EDS.

So are you reacting to things not showing up on an allergy test? Quite possibly, and your EDS makes it more likely.

Unfortunately, the testing for both is a crapshoot and are actually intended for mastocytosis. This is not to say you shouldn’t ask for a tryptase test (the 24-hour urine test is far more accurate than the blood test); I just mention it because it is entirely possible to have HIT/MCAS and still test negative for elevated levels of tryptase.

Until better testing methods are available, HIT and MCAS-aware doctors will now often diagnose based on patient history and response to mast cell stabilizers.

Anyway, sorry for the wall of salty text, I hope some of it is helpful to you! Best of luck with figuring everything out!

[islandofsages]

darling heart.

summary: in which you are someone who participates in/identifies with jirai kei culture.

characters: heartslabyul boys x gn reader

tags: relationship not specified, fluff, imagines format

warnings: mentions of mental health, mentions of self-destructive tendencies

author's notes: hiiii this is very self-indulgent bc i am a jirai kei babe,, im specifically a jirai danshi <3 i might do for other dorms too, depending on my motivation lol you can find out more by searching up jirai kei tho dont just read the jfashion wiki for it, it's more than just a fashion style. also beware of potentially triggering stuff since it deals with mental health and all

Riddle Rosehearts

He’s intrigued by this subculture that you participate in and he’d ask you more about it, if you don't mind telling him - he’ll do his own research too anyway

When he finds out it's basically a subculture consisting of people with emotion dysregulation issues and is generally controversial, he checks up on you and asks you if you're okay or not

You laugh then – you’ve had your ups and downs but really, so has everyone. You hope reading about it hasn't scared him off

He’d feel like calling you a “landmine type” is too insensitive but you assure him that there's nothing to worry about and that people who participate in the subculture has reclaimed such stereotypes and fully embrace it

He’d really enjoy seeing you decked out in jirai kei fashion; he may want to try it himself but he’d insist that it's not in his place to participate, only support from the sidelines

You do get him to try out clothes that are similar to or inspired by the culture though – he seems to be comfortable in the style and you're happy that something that you enjoy can also bring the same joy to him

You’ll also recommend some songs to him, especially ones that you think would help him in studying despite the sometimes concerning lyrical content

If someone tries to bully you for identifying with the subculture, he’d step in immediately and defend your honor

“What right do you have in deciding what (Y/N) identifies with? That's what I thought. I’m always in the right.”

Through your downs and ups, Riddle will always be there for you.

Ace Trappola

He has heard of it before but he thought it was only a type of fashion, not a whole subculture with more substance to it than clothes

You’d infodump to him all about it and your journey with it, whether you just discovered it or have been identifying with it for a long time – he listens to you curiously all the while

He’s caught off guard for a moment by the more controversial and depressing part of it but he quickly recovers

He’s happy for you and glad that you’re comfortable having such a culture define a part of you

Though he implores not to do all the self-destructive stuff if you could and he’ll look out for you more just in case

He definitely thinks you rock while wearing your jirai kei outfits; it’s not his style but he wouldn’t mind trying it once, just to get a feel for the style

“Yeah, this is definitely not my thing… you, on the other hand, look pretty awesome.”

You’d give him a link for your playlist (or a playlist you’ve saved) and he’d listen to it when he’s bored – ends up adding a few songs to his personal playlist

If he finds anyone stereotyping you unnecessarily, he’ll call them out, saying as if they’re any better

Despite everything, you are still uniquely you in his eyes.

Deuce Spade

He apologizes for not knowing too much about it when you bring it up and you tell him it’s okay because it gives you an excuse to ramble about it

You tell him what it entails and how you’ve come to find out about it, sifting through your past experiences both good and bad

He tries very hard to be understanding, even if he doesn’t really get it. You’re just grateful to have his support

“I don’t really get it but it gives you a sense of community, right? I think that’s pretty cool!”

He’s also a little concerned about the mental illness part so he’d regularly check up on you to make sure you’re doing okay

He’d ask you to tell him more about your experiences with the subculture if you have any more and if anything exciting happens, you go to him first

Such as acquiring a brand new article of jirai kei clothing for example! He thinks the style is super pretty and fits you really, really well

He’d listen to the music together with you, sharing earphones and all – maybe he would even listen to them while he tries to do anything

He’ll be your guard dog and bite back whoever dares to make fun of you for being part of the subculture’s community you’ll have to calm him down sometimes

You couldn’t ask for a better cheerleader than him.

Cater Diamond

He’s always known about the subculture and although he doesn't participate in it, he thinks it's really neat

You tell him more about it and about the misconceptions people have about it so that he doesn't misunderstand

He’s super stoked that he knows someone in real life who actually participates in the subculture since he gets to see how it actually is in reality

He mostly knows about the fashion and when you come rocking up to him wearing the classic jirai kei look, he tries his best not to fanboy

He compliments you then proceeds to ask you where you got it – though cute styles like it aren’t his thing, he feels like he can give this style a try

He’d match with you on days he doesn’t feel too uncomfortable with more cutesy styles and snap pictures of you two to post on Magicam

He’d also go scouring for the music online to add more songs to his already rapidly growing playlist. He’d share some recommendations with you too!

Unintentionally got you more jirai kei friends since some people saw his posts about matching with you on Magicam; even people you already know commented on his post

“Look at us, (Y/N)! We’re totally Magicam-famous now~”

You laugh with him, head thrown back while the seeds of your relationship bloom behind where the two of you sit.

Trey Clover

He doesn’t know too much about it so he’ll ask you to explain to him what it is – to which you excitedly agree to

You tell him everything from the origins to how you’ve come to participate in the subculture – he nods patiently all the while

The mental health part of it has him questioning you a bit but he has no ill intention, he’s simply looking out for you and is worried about you

He’s supportive all the way and thinks it’s nice that you have something you’re passionate about. He’d even do his own research when he has the time

He’s pleasantly surprised when you show up wearing jirai kei fashion one day; he definitely thinks you look striking in the get-up

He wouldn’t mind going with you if you were to shop for more jirai kei-related things – he would joke you’ll have to repay by helping him out another time though

He’ll listen to your song recommendations and if he likes them enough, he’d listen to them while he’s in the kitchen. He likes that they remind him of you

“Oh, this one’s pretty catchy. …These lyrics though…”

Going places with you certainly catches attention sometimes but he doesn’t mind, as long as you’re happy and comfortable in your own skin

His name truly defines him – you sure feel lucky to have him in your life.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Life update and general ramblings under the cut. Honestly I have no expectation of anyone to actually read all of this, I just gotta get it out somewhere.

So. I'm gonna try to continue to keep things as normal on here as I can, but if I disappear, or if I'm not responding to things as consistently or as quickly, this is why:

I'm dealing with a little bit of a health scare right now. And before anyone freaks out (like I am) it's probably nothing major to be concerned about. But for those of you who don't know, I have major health anxiety and am a bit of a hypochondriac, so I've been more or less teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown since I found out about this. It's been hard to find the motivation or focus to do much of anything, and some of the other mental issues I've been dealing with like my OCD have been majorly triggered by the stress this whole thing has caused and are running rampant.

It's been really discouraging, not only because I'm dealing with the fear that I may be seriously ill, but also because all the progress I thought that I'd made in overcoming some of my psychological issues like my OCD feels like they've gone out the fucking window.

I have another test on Friday that will determine if something actually is truly wrong or not, and I likely won't get the results until the week after. So I'm more or less in my equivalent of purgatory until then.

I'm going to try to get some comments queued up this weekend, so I can at least say that I did something productive, and so I'm not completely absent on here in case I do need to vanish for a little while. If there's anything particular you want me to see or respond to, please tag me in it and give me a little nudge if I don't respond fast enough. I promise I'm not ignoring anyone on purpose.

And don't worry about this affecting Love Me Where I'm Most Ruined. I'll still be updating on my weekly schedule. And even if things do go as badly as my brain is convinced they will and I am in fact dying, I'm gonna do my best to try to finish the series.

Anyway, I don't mean to freak anyone out or anything. Like I said, I think that this is just mostly my health anxiety having a fucking field day with the rest of my brain. But I just wanted to explain why I may be or have been a little off.

[highonmarvel]

Restless Heart [2] | Painkiller

♩Steve Kemp

You thought you were dark, and you are, but the charming surgeon you’re becoming addicted to is testing the extents of your morality.

} previous chapter: Tricks

content warning: this is a dark fic, and this series explores taboo topics such as abuse and assault, abduction, deteriorating mental health and mental illness, graphic depictions of gore. Think of a trigger warning: it applies to my work.

addition content warnings here!

You’re almost glad you can’t move too much without pain shooting across your back because you’re scared to see what he’s done to you. Sure, he said he didn’t take much, but that makes you angrier, like he’s expecting you to be grateful only some of you was stolen—in his eyes, he was merciful, but you know once the time comes, you’ll be anything but. In any case, you have a suspicion he didn’t give you stronger painkillers in order to make up for his supposed graciousness: how kind of him to save you from one pain and leave you with another.

You must have been out for a while because you don’t expect Steve to be back so soon. You hear the keypad accept the electronic tag and the wooden cell door slides open.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, voice low but if you didn’t know any better, you’d say there was an authenticity to his concern, if not for your well-being, more so for his curiosity.

Mustering your very little strength, you manage to worm your arms up from your sides to lay them on top of your pillow and rest your chin on your tender forearms. Your eyes sting with tears at the strain on your lower back, but you manage to stop the tears by letting out a harsh puff of breath as you drop your head and let your eyelids flutter closed.

“You’re an asshole,” you retort, slightly breathless, and he shifts to lean against the doorway, changing the shadows cast in your room—your jail—ever so slightly. You can feel his eyes on you as he speaks, very deliberately and carefully.

“You can’t trick me, alright?”

You raise your head to look over at him, your eyebrows knitted together displaying annoyance etched into your face. You try to read him, but you can’t; his tone is intentional, but you can’t tell his intentions.

“All right,” you respond, cooling your expression to match his stoicism. You both know he has the upperhand physically, but you think you can almost tell he’s not so sure it’ll be as easy for him to anticipate your intelligence, or he’s at least trying to get the idea out of your head before you try. At best, you’ll be irritating; at worst, you’ll be his killer, in one way or another.

“Good.” He gives a tight-lipped smile and leaves, and you swear he’s slammed the gate shut just a little harder than usual to really drill his cryptic message into your head.

You hadn’t realised how tense your muscles were until he’s left and you suddenly feel lighter, letting out an exasperated breath as you try to get as comfortable as you can and let yourself drift off to sleep.

♡

You wake up feeling only slightly better than whenever you fell asleep. Making a mental note to ask Steve for a clock (which you’ll doubt he’ll give to you—not yet, anyway), you place your hands under your shoulders and try to raise yourself up. A small strangled cry leaves your throat and echoes off the corridors. You bite your lip as your left elbow hits the ground painfully, but you try to ignore the shooting pain across your nerves in favour of propping yourself up enough for your other hand to steady you against the jagged brick wall.

You choke on a grunt as you slide your leg up against the cold sheets to plant your knee into the thin mattress and raise your entire upper body off the floor. Your right arm shakes as you rely on it for more support it can handle, but you just shut your eyes and pray you don’t slip and fall onto your ass, because you’re not sure if the pain from that would actually kill you.

You don’t really manage to stand straight up, back pain still hindering you, but with one hand bracing your lower back, you’re somehow able to make it to the toilet (it’s only a few metres away but that seems like a lot when you’re dealing with so much). Just as you finish up and are back to standing over the mattress, leaning against the wall, trying to figure out how to lie down again in a “comfortable” position without breaking out into sobs, a shrill scream pierces your eardrums and your hand slips. You gasp and brace for impact but thankfully your shoulder hits the wall instead, barely holding you up.

If you were smarter (or at least had more survival instinct than in this very moment) you would have figured out how to lay down before you actually fell, but the sounds of heavy footsteps coming your way and cries getting louder makes you freeze in place, looking out through the wooden bars.

Steve comes into view, holding a woman over his shoulder who’s nothing more than a torso, one leg and a head at this point, really looking like a bag of meat. Steve’s annoyance with the woman thrashing about uselessly fades when he catches your eye, and time seems to run slower, almost like slow motion.

He has a slight smirk playing on his lips you could have missed if you weren’t as mesmerised by the scene, his grip on less than half the woman is firm and steady despite her pleas for help and mercy and her incessant wriggling trying to fall from his hold.

Breath rushes back to you as soon as he steps out of sight and you gasp for air, trying not to retch, holding back vomit with so much effort the corners of your eyes prickle with tears. The final yells of a dead woman die out as a door is shut, and the actuality of Steve’s capabilities hits you so hard you nearly fall onto your knees. Finally deciding it’s probably safer for your body to lie down again, you lower yourself back onto your stomach and let out a shaky breath.

The look he gave you… it wasn’t necessarily evil or calculating, it was like some kind of simple statement, like he was almost a little excited to really show you what he’s capable of, and demonstrate him making good on his promises. You want to cry but you don’t dare feel sorry for yourself when you’re still alive and your body is virtually intact (unless Steve lied, which you really don’t want to think about right now).

You swear you can hear a drill drilling into bone as you lay your head down and try to resist sleep in fear of nightmares. But can anything be a worse nightmare than this?

♡

You’re pretty sure it’s another day, but there’s really no way of knowing. At least you’re feeling better, as in, you’re not in pain anymore, and that almost scares you, that you’re possibly healing and once the scars have vanished, there’ll be no evidence of what was robbed from you. Anger starts to build as you consider escape. Even if you do kill him, or manage to get out of this place, that’ll never heal your literal flesh, or the… heartbreak you feel. Acutely. But you push that down as you push yourself up.

You hadn’t even heard Steve’s footsteps, lost in thought, until he slides the cell door open and you suddenly jolt at the realisation of just the position you’re in.

He seems a little upbeat, but maybe that’s because he enjoyed his morning jog or something (you remember him briefly telling you why he likes running—something about turning your mind off and being in concrete nature). Other than his relaxed body language, nothing about his expression gives any indication as to what he thought of last night. And why would it? This doesn’t mean anything to him, these lives don’t mean anything to him.

You suddenly feel sick at the thought and drop your head in disgust, taking a few deep breaths to ready yourself to look up at this monster who parades as a human being.

“Hi,” he greets, and reveals a tray of breakfast, and you can’t deny it does smell good, and you really want it.

“How’s my ass?” you ask, voice a little hoarse, and you see the remark coming before the corner of his lip even lifts up into a smirk.

“Amazing,” he answers, and you let out a disgusted noise.

He sighs as he crouches and sets the tray down, his tone now serious. “Give it a couple of days before you sit,” he says, ghosting his hand over the hospital gown you’re still in, almost teasing himself, it seems. “Then you’ll be alright. It’s nothing to cry over, honey.”

You hadn’t even realised your chest was rising and falling rapidly and tears were streaming down your face. Though maybe his words are meant to be empathetic, they almost feel impatient, or indicative of a much worse hell to come.

“Brought you painkillers,” he says as he puts three pills in your hand.

You consider them for a second as hot tears splash against the medicine and a little bit of the compact powder turns to a chunky liquid and gathers on your palm.

“Thank you,” you answer, and drop them onto the tray, next to your meal.

“Take them.”

You look up at him, mouth twisted in disgust and barely suppressing a snarl despite how hard you try to appear reasonable. “After I eat,” you reply in an even tone, even though you want to grit your teeth and spit at him.

Steve sits down and crosses his legs. He picks up the plastic water bottle beside your pillow (the paranoid fuck clearly isn’t going to risk even a shard of glass to his precious body) in one hand and scoops the pills up in the other.

“Seriously.” His voice has to have dropped an octave.

You narrow your eyes but to your surprise, he’s got more of a skeptical look on his face than you do, and you know exactly why.

Both of you know he isn’t going to poison you, what with his obsession with having the “perfect” meat, and even if he drugged you to sleep, you honestly might prefer it than having to sit and think about what’s happening around you, or flip through dumb gossip magazines.

He’s seen you do this before. The first night you spent with him, when you woke up, the stack of pills in your bedside drawer was missing. Neither of you said anything about it, his demeanour and his flirtatious ways didn’t even change, but when you were dancing later than evening and tripped, he caught you.

“You could have killed yourself!” he said in a breathless laugh, and for just a split second a grave expression flashed across his features, but you didn’t have time to process it before he pulled you back up to your feet and twirled you under his raised arm, holding your hand just a little tighter than usual.

At the time, you thought maybe he had real concern for you, if only a little, but knowing what you know now, he was probably only worried your suicide would fuck up his plans for your meat (you hate the way he calls your body meat), and you wouldn’t be fresh anymore.

You snatch the medicine from him and chuck it into your mouth, quickly holding out your hand for the bottle. The pills mixed with your saliva and water leave a bitter, powdery taste on your tongue, which you wash down with more water.

You raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes at him, as if to say “Happy now?” and he nods in response, standing with a groan as he stretches his arms above his head and arches his back. You suddenly realise how stiff you feel and how you’d kill for a bit of yoga right now.

And maybe you will.

♡

When Steve brought you lunch, he didn’t have much to say to you, and you (naturally) didn’t have much to say to him. You had taken a nap after the meds, but still Steve insisted you take another dose every few hours so you can skip the pain altogether instead of screaming when you need him.

You sulk as you pick at your food, suddenly feeling lonely when he leaves again.

Of course you hate him, but you can’t deny it’d be nice to have someone to talk to, even if the reason you’re feeling so alone is precisely because you’re near-isolated, and he’s the one who caused that. And you can’t help but remember how you used to talk—fun conversations over dinner, serious ones after sex, casual talks as you bustled around the kitchen, and everything in between.

It’s hard to eat with the plastic utensils—again, ever the paranoiac—but it’s harder to eat with this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something between rage and sadness. You feel like a fucking idiot, but you don’t want to technically victimblame; this isn’t your fault, you know that, logically, but suddenly you feel dumb for ever thinking a person like you could have a normal, nice relationship. In retrospect, maybe you should have seen that anyone who could like you was just as insane, if not more, but you thought you were doing a good job at keeping that under wraps, and that he hadn’t really caught on to anything other than maybe depression—nothing violent, at least, or psychotic.

Now here you lay on your stomach, forcing down a few bites, before ultimately giving up and pushing your practically untouched meal away from you. Maybe if you hadn’t been so restrained, maybe if you’d shown him what you’re capable of, you wouldn’t be here, he wouldn’t have tried, you’d have been too difficult of a target. But something about that, something about that doesn’t feel really true. You can’t tell if he ever had feelings for you, but you know for certain there’s something deeper to your dynamic. So, maybe he would have done this regardless, maybe it’s some weird fate, more like a destiny to be punished, if there even is such a thing.

You can just feel something about this will end in a more intense way than either of you realise.

♩

[my beloved taglist: @cowboysnbugs, @buckys-wintersoldier, @cjand10]

[maybeimamuppet]

Do you believe Regina is redeemable?

ohhhhh buddy the whole can of worms this opened

to make a long story short: yes.

to make a long story longer with a tw for mentioned child abuse/neglect and suicidal ideation

i think every iteration of her deserves a shot at redemption.

canonically regina is at most seventeen years old. yes, she’s almost an adult. yes, she does and has done despicable things at this age and even younger. but she is still young. she is still a child. to completely, black and white say, that she is at her core an unredeemable monster who doesn’t even deserve to try does a complete and utter disservice both to her and the people she’s hurt in her past. to say she will be the way she is forever negates all the suffering she goes through and puts others through in canon, misguided though it is.

regina is also basically the textbook for a personality disorder and specifically bpd. borderline is (in a lot of cases i’ll say rightfully) very harshly judged. there’s a lot of stigma around it and cluster b disorders as a whole. but bpd is also caused for the most part by neglect and abuse in childhood. we only ever see regina’s dad in 2004 canon, for a single scene, crying over regina wearing the rabbit halloween costume. he’s completely absent in both the stage show and 2024. and looking at her mom, it is very obvious something has happened to the both of them and that this child (or neither of these children if you include kylie from 2004) is/are not getting the emotional guidance, support, and attention they need. who knows what happened before canon as well. who knows what her dad was like.

speaking as someone who also probably has bpd (which i discovered through doing research to write her better) i can say it is a terrifying experience. i’m lucky in that i’m able to resist my compulsions most of the time, but having them at all is beyond terrifying sometimes. i am filled with rage on a hair trigger these days. sometimes i’m able to process this anger in a healthy way. i can rationalize. i can think through it. i can calm myself down.

other times i can’t. i can only glance through the mean girls tag on ao3 now because if i look at numbers or think for too long about it, i compare the new fics that have come with the 2024 movie to things i’ve written. to see these fics that, while fantastic, are much shorter or don’t have as much effort put into them as what i do get literally ten times the love does hurt, as much as i adore and appreciate what i do get.

by nature with my other illnesses i have to pour my entire heart and soul, blood sweat and tears into every word i put on a page. every fic i’ve done is a piece of me that sometimes feels like i’ve torn it out of myself and given you to read. sometimes seeing that get 150 hits compared to a cadina fic that’s half as long (but again, still amazing! they all deserve every hit and kudos and comment and whatever) getting up to 1, 10, 50k hits just latches to a particularly sadistic part of my brain and it’s all i can think about for weeks. and it makes me want to quit. either writing or living.

and that sounds dramatic because IT IS. and i’m fully aware having those thoughts and urges is irrational. i don’t want them. i miss feeling like i have a community on ao3 (i absolutely have one here and i love all of you in my little circle with my entire being.) i hate having to avoid reading about my favorite characters because it does that much damage to my mental health. i am afraid that it takes something that small for me to have these massive thoughts.

all of that to say is that bpd makes switches easier to flip. it makes bad choices easier to make.

the reason i’m still here. the reason i still write and i haven’t deleted everything i’ve ever done. the reason i haven’t done a number of other things that i won’t say because they aren’t really relevant. is because i have chosen not to. it is incredibly hard sometimes. but it is still a choice you have to consciously make. you have to consciously decide to hurt someone. you have to consciously decide to say things. you have to consciously decide to humiliate your best friend in front of countless other people.

regina did make those choices.

and for that she does deserve consequences. she deserves repercussions and she deserves flack. she does not deserve to get hit by a bus (except for it being the catalyst to help her realize she needs to change) or being force fed to reach her biggest insecurity and fear without her knowledge.

she made the earliest choice when she was either eleven or twelve years old, that we know of.

that is a child.

regina is a child who is clearly suffering in some way we don’t see. she absolutely should be held accountable for what she does and what she has done. but she also deserves to be allowed to apologize and try to make amends. she deserves to be allowed the opportunity for growth and to heal and to become a functional adult who is capable of meaningful relationships and success. she deserves to be allowed to try.

does she deserve immediate or any forgiveness? no. the people around her also deserve the ability to make the choices with her that they will. she has caused harm, people are allowed to process the harm she has put upon them however they will.

but she deserves the opportunity to make it a choice for them.

she deserves a chance at redemption.

[brains5ana]

zombie blog turn around!!

this is my personal blog about my anorex14 and depression this is both my safe space where i can cope with my life right now and my way of documenting this disorder in case i dont survive it so that my loved ones or anyone who wants them might get some answers.

₊˚⊹ 𐂯please dont interact if you are not already disordered or are in recovery. block dont report this is really all i have .₊˚⊹ 𐂯

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

me ୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅

17 they/them bi and taken veryyy happily dni creeps

life rn - mom died in august now im taking care of my 15 yo autistic sibling and household because my dad is abusive and doesnt really parent. my grandparents help take care of them sometimes but they dont live with us and are televangelists who try to convert us(my sibling is pagan). my sibling is awesome but its a lot to take care of them while grieving so much and i worry about them a ton.

bg - grew up in poverty w pretty bad parents (i love my mom a lot but she was young and fucked me up a little bit as a young kid mostly she was good but our relationship was kind of complicated for while). got bullied really bad from elementary school till quarantine when i was in middle school. my dads a redneck and my mom was a hippie now my dads like a frat bro?? and hes insane.

alternative (riot grrl goth punk etc) i like music(esp live punk shows), painting, writing, horror movies, ZOMBIES

political activist mostly w the environment but also general big leftist

white, able bodied (maybe) hindu vaishnavite

im very mentally ill and have had suicidal thoughts and depression my whole life. diagnosed cptsd, ptsd, chronic depression, generalized anxiety disorder, ana suspected adhd

my ed - got bullied for my weight and started trying to lose weight in 5th grade. i went to a nutritionist in 6th grade who told me to count calories so i did and then i went lower and lower and lower seeing how little i could consume in a day(i also started having an exercise addiction then). in 7th grade i started doing intermittent fasting and restricting below what you need to live in retrospect. then quarantine happened and i started looking at ana tips. id sleep all day until 4 pm to avoid food and workout at night. i got to my lw and was plateauing and worrying about dying so i told my very shitty therapist at the time who told me i wasnt low enough to have an ed but still told my mom who got me an appointment w an ed doctor. and there started my forced recovery bc the ed doctor told me i definitely did have ana and wouldnt have survived another month or two. after resisting for a long time and trying to secretly relapse i gave in. and it worked, i fully recovered. i didnt get thoughts i was happy and didnt have to lose weight anymore. and then people started treating me badly and a girl who was in my friend group started making fun of me for being fat and i realized i cant deal with that and everything else. so im 40 lbs down and trying to loose more.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

this blog ୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅

BYF - this is an ed bl0g w triggering content do whats best for you i cant facilitate everyones recovery but it is possible and waiting for everyone

DNI - 14 y/o and younger, those interested in recovery (you can so do it i believe in you), creeps, p3d0s, p0rn accounts, fatphobes (fuck off and die), terfs, transphobes, etc

this is a number free blog for the most part and if not ill tag #tw ed numbers or #tw ana numbers

on here ill post wieiads, b0dy checks, collages, diet plans for myself, themed moodboards, a lot of zombie content.

i use the tag #brains4ana or #brains4ana4vent for vent posts (if im coherent enough to care)

other ongoing tws - meat, cannibalism(all the zombie stuff) alcohol addiction, nicotine addiction, mentions of sh, ed (duh)

[tag-that-oc]

Do you have any Ocs you’d like to talk about??

oh boy do i

im gonna introduce my scrungly my poor little meow meow my pathetic loser the love of my life. Arvid Sheldon Moreno <3

ill add trigger tags too of course but just in case: warning for abuse, violence, death, and kidnapping

first of all i am a Terrible artist but here's a commission i got of him from the lovely jester @/ghostcasket (with commissions still open here is the info post. go commission them he's wonderful)

anyways. ARVID. basically he's a second generation oc from the project me and the other mod have. he is like. 3/4 alien?? something like that. but he was born on earth and that's where he grew up.

his parents are lovely and perhaps very strange but they are so good to their kids. Arvid is a mama's boy in particular he is very close to her and very protective of her.

so. what's wrong with him then???? surely he has Every Problem Ever. well he does. when he was a kid he didn't really have any friends. he was outcasted and bullied from various sources but none more so than Alex. fuck Alex we hate that guy.

Alex caused problems for Arvid basically his whole life. he was harassed and followed and beaten and manipulated and. well a lot of things!!

Arvid met and became friends with Izan who was infinitely better for Arvid and nicer and they were just really close. however that didn't stop Alex from being an asshole ya know. and it got even worse when Izan broke off from Arvid due to trying to manage his own trauma of a recent event unrelated to Arvid's stuff

so what did Arvid do? he clung to Alex and they became "friends". during this time Alex really drilled into Arvid's head the idea that he shouldn't cry, that he was weak, that no one else could tolerate him, and Arvid believed it all. things escalated until Alex and one of his other friends attacked and stabbed Arvid during a time when Izan and Arvid were trying to patch things up. and they left him there.

Izan got him help, but Arvid refused to let Alex get into trouble. in fact he had a strong fondness and loyalty to him and so what did he do? he confessed that he was in love with Alex. and Alex, ever amused and delighted by the power and control he had over Arvid, accepted his confession and they started dating.

and they didn't break up for a really really long time!

however this is all the backstory info! (well not all of his backstory but Some of it) this isn't even taking into account the story events! the story events being Arvid and his entire family gets kidnapped and taken to an alien planet because these fucked up brothers were trying to get and erase information on the esp experiments that happened during the first generation (meaning the things Arvid's parents went through) and. well long story short Dawson (does anyone remember when i talked about him?) was forced by his older brothers to kill Arvid and his mom. fucked up!!

but it's okay, isn't it? yeah Arvid comes back to life thanks to a wish made by Dawson on this super powerful wish granting magical rock. and they all live happily ever after on earth!

but not really.

when Arvid gets back he discovers that in addition to being brought back to life, he's now immortal. which is the LAST thing he wants because he didn't even want to be brought back to life if he was being honest. and Alex being the wonderful person he is decides to use this to his advantage (basically isn't it fun to kill your boyfriend over and over while he remains blindly loyal to you? Alex seems to think so)

however Arvid has other relationship drama going on. he has feelings for soo many other people but didn't feel worthy enough to be in a relationship with any of them. why would anyone ever like him back ya know?

except a lot of them did like him back. a lot actually. and Arvid starts dating others and building this lovely little polycule of people who really and genuinely love and care about him. and it takes a long time, but eventually Arvid breaks things off with Alex and tries to be happy. key word being that he tries because sometimes he doesn't do a very good job of it. he's still got it in his head that he deserves to suffer and will go on self destructive spirals now that he doesn't have a boyfriend beating him to shit constantly anymore.

some fun facts about Arvid is that he's a supervillain. i mean not Really a supervillain but he's a loser and tells everyone that he's evil. type of guy to steal from large corporations but not from local places. but this is all evil deeds he swears it. he also has plans to take over the world which he only shares with people he really trusts. he's so lame <3

he's also extremely emotional and will cry really easily but. well due to Alex Reasons he will belittle himself for showing sadness. he is obsessed with people seeing him as strong when his 5'3 ass can't even open a pickle jar

Arvid is also very very soft and sensitive about bugs he loves bugs!!! they were his best friends back when he didn't have any friends and even now he still treats them so gently. it's a really cool contrast to his usual edgy personality.

also!! he has really bad luck all the time <3 constantly tripping over stuff and falling in puddles and breaking his phone and. other bad luck stuff.

anyways i hope you enjoyed my insane ramblings about my scrungy little guy

[butchspace]

Hello, I am going to discuss my thoughts on content/trigger warnings as someone living with OCD. I am absolutely open to good faith engagement and discussion on this topic.

Having some thoughts on the idea that adding trigger warnings somehow ultimately harms the person with the trigger. They absolutely can create an easy tool to obsessively control your access to the topics/to avoid them, but I’ve always felt it should be the potentially triggered person’s decision on what they were ready to do about it. Uncontrolled exposure is just as capable of causing obsession as is avoidance, in my opinion.

I think of the (terrible telephone retelling of a) case I heard about while discovering recounts of actual lived experiences with OCD.

—The following example discusses intrusive thoughts about domestic violence.—

A woman had an obsession with being was afraid of hitting her boyfriend. Her compulsion was that she would have to hold her arms stiffly by her side. She recognized this as OCD and sought exposure response prevention. Her therapist told her to try and ignore the compulsion, or potentially do the opposite. The woman became so obsessed with healing she forced herself to keep her hands away from her sides (almost obsessively) and constantly checked whether or not she “still wanted to hit him.” In the end, the ERP just became entangled with her obsessions.

It takes so much strength to face these types of problems and practice the mindfulness and grace with yourself to recognize it. It’s something you really need to be ready for because it’s going to take a lot of effort to do the hard thing when the easy thing is right there.

How can we claim it’s best to “force” exposure on someone else? How can we go around vigilante therapising people we have deemed too ill to do it on their own (or just be left alone)?

This is not to say that anyone is bad if they can’t or don’t want to tag things. More just my thoughts about how pushback against that idea can swing too hard into trying to prove not tagging was morality correct.

Some articles that articulate so much of my experience with OCD:

Having No Cure for OCD Is the Cure

Help! I Have OCD About What’s OCD

In the spirit of bodily autonomy, I think we all deserve agency in our lives no matter how “incompetent” other people may think we are. When you’re ready, you’re ready. There’s no healing to be had sitting around thinking you’re broken or lazy or whatever for not being ready to change. We all owe each other the kindness to do what we can in good faith, too.

I started doing too much table setting in the tags, so I’ll put it under a read more, lol.

I recognize that this isn’t very radically (in the abolition vs reform sense) anti-psychiatry, and I do have a complicated relationship with that idea. I recognize that I have a good deal of privilege (particularly among people with more stigmatized/less understood “disorders”) but this framework is the only one I’ve ever been able to access that gives me any insight into myself at all. That isn’t something everyone can afford to do in several senses.

As a physically disabled person, I just connect my experiences with chronic illness and mental illness (which I think can fall under the umbrella of chronic on its own) more and more these days. What truly was the difference between not being able to do something out of pain versus anxiety? Our brains are organs, too. Our thoughts are chemical and hormonal, too.

One of the fondest memories I have of coming to terms with disability was explaining my experience with an autoimmune condition to a bipolar friend, and he replied that we were “chronic illness buddies.” And I felt so understood as someone who has suffered with various types of anxieties for their entire waking life.

[sith-shenanigans]

Introduction and Masterpost

Hello! I’m Io (with an i, not an L), they/them, enthusiast of evil space wizards and other assorted terrible people everywhere. This is primarily a SWTOR blog, but I post about other fandoms occasionally, and have recently fallen down a terrible hyperfixation hole about Fallen London. I write longfic, on a somewhat inconsistent schedule; chronic illness makes it difficult to put out chapters consistently.

I don’t have a DNI, but I block bigots and anyone whose posts I’d prefer not to see. I don’t do shipping discourse, and I don’t necessarily care what you ship, but see the previous sentence; if it makes me uncomfortable, and there are definitely things that make me profoundly uncomfortable out there, I’ll probably block you. (This has much more to do with tone than content—I have triggers, I’m all for people experiencing unpleasant things in safe ways, but the moment it feels like they’re being written as good and sweet and normal I’m going to nope on out of there as fast as I can. For my own mental health, and because the alternative is me biting someone’s head off.)

For my own part, I often write about dark subjects (especially in regards to my SWTOR OCs), and this blog may contain untagged discussion of fictional slavery, speciesism, systemic child abuse, state violence, toxic and abusive relationships, and similar topics. Mentions of sexual assault are generally tagged as “sexual assault cw.” I try to tag discussion of parental or school-based child abuse as “child abuse cw,” as well as in-depth descriptions of it in general, but I can’t 100% guarantee it. I try to remember to tag what friends ask me to tag, but if we don’t know each other well, I may not be able to manage it.

For neurodivergence reasons, I find it extremely difficult to describe images most of the time, but I’m trying to include alt text on screenshots of tags more consistently, and I’m attempting to tag my own posts with undescribed images as “undescribed.” (This includes most of my Fallen London posting, because there’s just enough formatting to poke me in the “cannot easily transcribe visuals to text” issue.)

Liminality/Discontent (SWTOR):

Liminality Main Cast:

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Discontent Main Cast:

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Sunlight (SWTOR):

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Other/Miscellaneous (SWTOR):

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Fallen London:

Amias Arling, the Calescent Inquisitive. Heart’s Desire. A former freelance detective with a few unfortunate soft spots, who came to the Neath for a case and ended up framed for something their target did. Extremely clever and extremely driven, but embodies the maxim that everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face. Practically allergic to the direct route, unless it seems like no one would ever expect it. And even then, they’d rather take a convoluted way around.

SWTOR:

Liminality/Discontent, a sometimes-AU SWTOR novelization in multiple parts. Has a heavy focus on the implications that the game didn’t go into, the politics of the galaxy, and the pressure the protagonists go through.

like a moth to you, sunlight, a collaboration with my sibling @azems-familiar. Not very much is written on it, because collaboration is hard even when both people involved aren’t chronically ill (and our hyperfixations are largely elsewhere right now), but we love our terrible children anyway.

Liminality/Discontent:

The Dead Star; The Ruin, a prologue of a sort. As yet unpublished. Also works as a standalone work.

Anamnesis, a KOTOR novelization with a certain amount of playing with the format. A tragedy, if a bittersweet one, and a case study in why villains with good motivations are still villains. On hiatus.

Liminality, my pride and joy and occasional mortal enemy. The first and primary of two SWTOR base game novelizations, covering the Sith Inquisitor, Smuggler, Sith Warrior, and Jedi Consular storylines. It deals heavily with loss and family—the latter both by blood and by choice, and sometimes unexpectedly uncovered. It’s also about history, about the boundaries between past and future and life and death—and the things that survive when someone is gone. The galaxy is full of dangerous secrets, and cycles that seem inexorable; in the end, though, what matters most are the choices you make and why.

Discontent, the fic I will someday definitely write. Covers the Jedi Knight, Imperial Agent, Bounty Hunter, and Republic Trooper. It’s about war, mostly, and cleaning up other people’s messes. Nobody gets to step off a battlefield as the same person who walked onto it, if they make it off at all, but there are reasons to keep trying—even if only some of them are good ones. And somebody has to be the one to chase down the conspiracies in the dark.

Sacrifice, as yet not even started, which will cover the portion of the game running from the end of the class stories to Ziost. There’s a fourth fic for the Alliance era, tentatively titled Conviction, but there’s less in my head about how that one’s going to go.

Sunlight:

still my heart is heavy (with the hate of some other man’s beliefs), about spies and loyalty and people making slightly better decisions than they could have. Written primarily by @azems-familiar, who Illami belongs to. (I helped write Ardun.)

Other/Miscellaneous (SWTOR):

your last serving daughter, a collaboration with @reconstructionlegacy. Our silly little AU about Empire and the people who wish they didn’t live in it. Also infrequently updated due to the trials of life and coauthorship.

Fallen London:

None, yet, but it will happen. I can feel it.

The organizational banners used can be found here.

[sunnygrey99]

Honey, Smoke, Lemon, and Oak Pt 3

~Trigger Warning: Typical TLOU warnings. Self Harm, suicidal tendencies, severe mental illness, PTSD, gore, psychological torture, slight implications of previous abuse/SA (minors DNI) If any other Triggers apply please let me know.~

Story Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Violence, Murder, Death, Smut

A/N: This is a rough chapter. I'm trying to be as accurate to an unpredictable mental illness as I can be. As someone who suffers from severe mental illness I do not take it lightly. Please if you are suffering or need help Tumblr offers resources that can really help.

Wordcount: 2,546

Summary: Plus size!Reader is a Beekeeper and Medical Scientist living in Jackson. A simple meeting of a new friend slowly becomes so much more. Reader is immune. Reader is given a nickname. (This fic will have very dark tones though out. This deals with the unfortunate reality that men do disgusting things to women regardless of the world having ended. All chapters will include warnings and tag warnings. Please take care in reading.)

Its been a couple weeks since Ellie started school. You missed her during the mornings but she never failed to show up after school even just to do her homework next to you as you worked. Joel of course still working in the barn and every once in awhile coming back up to where ever you and Ellie were to take breaks and check up on you both. It was nice seeing them but after they leave each night you could feel the anxiety and hurt edging back into you.

You haven’t slept in the last three nights and its starting to show. Today as soon as you open the door and greet Joel he is looking at you with a deep set concern.

“You doin’ alright today Miss Bunny?” His hand stretches out just about to touch you in case you need support.

You pull back fast and stumble slightly into the door frame, “I’m just fine, thank you.” You pull your arms across your chest and seem to shrink in on yourself. “You can take the day off if you want. I was going to spend today in the barn.”

Joel seems to take the information in and mulls it over for a moment. His concern still intensely written across his features. “I don’t think thats a very good idea-”

You interrupt him quickly, “I don’t need you telling me what I can and can’t do Mr.Miller. It is my job to make that medication. The town needs it.”

Joel’s features go from concern to confusion to anger in the blink of an eye. “I’m just tryin’ to look out for you. You look like you ain’t slept in a week and now you’re snappin’ at me.”

“I don’t need you to look out for me I said I’m fine. Leave.” With those words you slam the door and start pacing your home. You know its wrong the second the words leave your mouth. Its been months since you felt like this. The last time it happened it took weeks for you to come back from it. Maria found you and helped bring you back last time but at the cost of permanent damage to your friendship. You know she’ll never fully trust you again after that. You can’t let it happen to anyone else.

The next thirty minutes are spent by you locking and boarding up every window and door in the house. If no one can come in while you are like this then they wont get hurt.

~~~

Joel is dumbfounded and stands on your porch for five minutes trying to understand what just happened. He devolves into anger and annoyance and stalks off to find some other work to keep him busy for the day.

Another week passes and Joel finds himself at Maria and Tommy’s place helping them get ready for the new baby. Shes due in just a couple months and both Tommy and Maria are in a tizzy trying to make sure everything is ready for the new addition to the family.

“Ya know it doesn’t have to be perfect right Tommy?” Joel’s tone light and relaxed in the presence of family.

Tommy scuffs and rearranges the fabric diapers and towels again, “I know but I just want it to make sense. Its gonna be hard enough raising a kid in this world let alone having things disorganized once they get here.”

Joel chuckles at his brother, “It was a shitty world then and its a shitty world now, either way ain’t keepin that organized for more than a day when the kiddo gets here.”

Maria walks in then hand on her belly and the other carrying a small box of extra baby stuff. Tommy rushes over grabbing the box from her. “The Doc said not to lift anything and you should be in bed resting.”

“I can’t just lay in bed for the next few months and you know that. Besides the Doc said I can’t lift more than ten pounds. That’s less than eight.” Maria smiles at her husband and pats his cheek before giving him a small peck on the lips.

Joel watches the contentedness wash over their features. A sense of envy fills his own chest. He misses that feeling. Recognizing that he had something similar with Sarah’s mom before she left and he hadn’t felt that want since she did. He also feels a bit of jealousy at his brother having what he wishes he did when Sarah’s mom was pregnant. Joel hadn’t even known about Sarah until she was dropped off by a social worker when she was a week old. Most surprising of all is his sudden want for a chance at that again. He feels himself try to shake off the thoughts. Immediately replaced by the feelings of grief, sadness, and loss. Anger being the most present. The two others in the room oblivious to the change in Joel’s demeanor. Maria turns the Joel then, “So hows the barn coming along?”

Joel huffs and rolls his eyes at that, “Just fine till Bunny told me to fuck off.”

Maria looks over to Tommy with confusion and concern immediately written across her face. She looks back to Joel, “What do you mean she told you to fuck off?”

He simply shrugs. “Looked like she hadn’t slept in a few, asked her if she was alright…damn near chewed my head off for it. Told me to leave so I did.”

She takes a step closer the concern only worsening, “Joel this is very important. How long ago was this?”

He squints his eyes at her then his brother. He feels as if he is missing something important, like he doesn’t know something they do. His eyes shift back over to Maria, “A week ago.”

She curses under her breath before looking at Tommy. “You see her in the past week at all?” He simply shakes his head no. “Tommy we need to get the doc to her ASAP.” He nods and starts heading to the truck Maria right behind him.

Joel stands there confused for a moment lost in thought as to what might be the reason that the doc would be needed. He almost just brushes it off and lets them deal with it, but something in him is telling him to get a move on and help. Clearly something is wrong and Bunny needs help.

Its not even twenty minutes later they are all standing at the front door. Maria banging on the door with no answer. Joel peers into the window to see if there is any movement. “Looks like she’s got the windows and doors blocked from the inside. What the hell is goin’ on with her?”

Maria huffs as she paces the porch, “I should have known when she didn’t come over Tuesday. She never misses bringing me meds.”

“You didn’t tell me she didn’t drop those off.” Tommy voices from the bottom of the porch stairs.

“I still had meds I would have been fine. I thought she would just be by tomorrow when she drops off the rest to the clinic.” Maria walks back to the door again and calls your name. She tries again just a couple more times hoping your real name would coax you out sooner. They all hear a rustling around from inside the house and she calls for you again. “Bunny please, Its just me Maria. You can trust me remember? We have been best friends for a decade. You saved my ass from a hundred infected, supported me with governing Jackson. Sweetie I know you are in there please open up. We just want to know you are okay!”

Joel can see the tears prickling in Maria’s eyes. He hasn’t ever seen her this emotional and distressed even with the pregnancy hormones. He looks to Tommy and recognizes the same sad look in his eyes that he had when he himself had gone off the deep end. It suddenly struck him what was happening. That’s when they all hear the shattering of glass come from inside the house.

~~~

You’ve been pacing the bottom floor of the house for you don’t even know how long. Sleeping only in small increments when your body allows it. That voice creeping in slowly. His voice. Its been so long since you’d heard it but you remember the condescending tone anywhere. At first it sounded far away like he was yelling from the yard but then he was closer and closer. He always knows where you are in the house without actually being here. He sounds like hes in the walls now.

“Little girl, you can’t run away from me now…” His voice makes you tremble in fear. “I know where you are…I know your every thought.”

“no….no just….just leave me alone please. I’ve given you enough of me.” Your hands squeeze around the leather handle of your knife as you pace in the center of the living room.

“NO! I WANT IT ALL! YOU’RE MINE!” His voice echoes out. Its almost enough to cover the banging at your front door. That’s when you hear your name being called in a familiar, sweeter voice.

“Bunny please, Its just me Maria. You can trust me remember? We have been best friends for a decade. You saved my ass from a hundred infected, supported me with governing Jackson. Sweetie I know you are in there please open up. We just want to know you are okay!” The voice carried through the walls you had built up. You don’t remember this person, only a small spark of familiarity.

You walk to the front door hand out stretched yet hesitant to take down the furniture blocking the way. “Don’t you dare trust her. She just wants to steal you away from me. You don’t want that do you little girl? She’ll hurt you.” Your trembling hands pull back and reach to cover your ears, the blade from your knife brushing slightly against your cheek.

“She sounds nice, I think I know her.” Your voice just a hushed whisper.

“STUPID GIRL! You can’t trust anyone but me! I kept you safe all those years and THIS is how you repay me?” His voice booms as you stumble back some slicing open your cheek. “It looks like I need to teach you another lesson. A round of iron should teach you better.” Its then that you see him emerge from the wall. A fire poker in hand and red hot. You see his hands wring around the iron grip and a gleeful look in his otherwise dead eyes. The bullet hole in his forehead still oozing blood like the last time you saw him. And the same devious, wicked smile plastered on his face. As he inches forward you feel yourself pushed back into fight or flight mode. You reach to the nearest objects and start throwing them at him, hoping to deter him from coming any closer. Once hes only a few inches away you let out a blood curdling scream. Moments later furniture flies away from its barricade spot and the door breaks off its hinges.

A man you don’t recognize walks towards you in a hurry, light shining behind him as if he is some sort of angel. Unsure of what to make of the man you shuffle away. The man of your nightmares dissipated into thin air as the new man stops in his tracks. His movements much slower now as if trying to calm a scared and wild animal. You can see his lips move but you don’t hear any sound right away. The golden light behind him is almost blinding as it washes over the cold room. It warms your skin as you look down at yourself and see the light gracing your form. Looking back up at the man you smile. “Is it safe? Is he gone?”

The man kneels down in front of you and slowly nods. He reaches up and starts to take the knife from you. That’s when the light behind him starts to fade into an inky black. Panic quickly floods back into your system, and your grip hardens on the knife. “No! GET AWAY FROM ME!” You kick at him and scramble to move away. He lets go and steps back quickly.

“Bunny please, I promise I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He watches you intently and you in-turn watch him. The light and inky black fighting back and forth around the man. Swirling and mixing yet never quite touching. Your gaze still lays on his features with no trust. He waits on a few moments before speaking back up. “I’ll stay right here okay? I just need you to put the knife down.”

The panic quickly grows and your eyes flick from him to the knife and back to him. “I won’t let him or any other man get me again.” You quickly flip the knife back to yourself and plunge the knife deep into your abdomen.

As your body feels the sudden numbness pool in your abdomen reality crashes back in. Eyes locked with Joel’s as he stands there stunned. “Joel…I…” You look back down to your abdomen, “Oh god what…did I do?” Dropping to your knees, hands grabbing at the still plugged wound. Your hands smearing the dripping blood as you feel another pair of hands on you keeping you from fully falling to the ground.

You hear Joel’s voice calling out something. He sounds panicked but you can’t quite understand what he is saying. All the sound around you muffled as if you were stuck in a dream. The inky black that had been around Joel enveloping your own vision as you hear more voices get added to the muddled sound.

~~~

Joel yells out to the group on the porch, “Doc! We need the Doc in here!” He cradles your shoulders as he rocks you back and forth slowly. His other arm pulling your legs to get you laying more flat. The blood pouring out from your wound coats Joel’s clothes and hand. Your eyes only half open staring up at him, pupils blown wide. You try muttering something out and weakly raise your arm. He was quick to hold you and shush you. “It’s alright Miss Bunny, we are gonna fix this. Everything is going to be okay.”

Time seems to stand still for hours as he looked deep into your eyes. His own filling with tears he hadn’t realized he could have for anyone more than he already had. It was when your eyes rolled fully back and the doctor pulled you from his grip that he himself blacked out. The next thing Joel knew he was standing with Ellie next to your sleeping form in a hospital bed.

Ellie’s hand squeezing yours and silent tears rolling down her own face. Joel does the only thing he can think of to help. He pulls up two chairs and guides Ellie to sit still able to hold your hand. He barely catches the whisper that leaves her lips. “Please don’t abandon me too.” It instantly crushes Joel’s heart and all he can do is sit there with Ellie.

Part 4

If you would like to be tagged in my works please feel free to message me and let me know who/what fandoms you’d like to be tagged in. I plan to write for at least The Walking Dead, Shameless(US), Marvel(MCU and Comics), DC(All), Teen Wolf and The Last of Us

[cosmicjoke]

https://www.tumblr.com/cosmicjoke/757516383076679680/alright-well-first-of-all-id-like-to-say-that

While I understand both Anon's objections and your explanation for the way it is like it is, I gotta admit I'm getting tired of Levi's unending suffering. It's true recovery is not linear, the relapses are fine, but the amount of external shit happening to him is too much too. I really need him to stop suffering. Preferably with a happy ending, but really, at this point, I'd welcome just an ending. I get a little depressed/ anxious with each update when I see there's no final chapter yet, and thus no foreseeable end to the constant whumping. :( I may have met my Angst ceiling.

You're free to stop reading any time you want. It's not like anyone is holding a gun to your head and "forcing" you to read my story. If it's really causing you to feel "depressed" and "anxious", again, it's your responsibility to look out for your own mental health, not mine.

And I'm sorry, but this much bad shit can and does happen to people in real life. If you don't want to read about it, that's fine, and if you don't have the patience to wait for me to get to his eventual recovery, again, you don't have to read it. But I'm not going to tailor my story to your specific needs, I'm afraid.

My answer to that anon ask wasn't a free invite for people to just come in and dump on my story, by the way. I said "constructive criticism". Telling me you get depressed reading my story and telling me you think it's "too much" what Levi is suffering through isn't constructive, it's just criticism.

Stories have to have catalysts for why things happen. Otherwise, there's nothing to hold the readers interest and nothing to drive the story forward. There has to be conflict, whether that's internal or external. There's been maybe 3 or 4 external events that have contributed to Levi's internal issues in my story, so I don't know what you're talking about with there being too much "external shit". Most of the external things that have happened to Levi in my story have been a catalyst for his other mental and physical problems compounding. One is necessary for explaining the other. Both his mental and physical illnesses in my story are the result of one another, being compounded by one another. It's rare for either mental or physical illnesses to exist in a vacuum. They always have a high rate of comorbidity.

Like I said, if you don't enjoy the story anymore, then I don't know why you're still reading it. It's marked as "angst" and "heavy angst", and "hurt/comfort". It has all the appropriate tags. You know what you're getting into, so complaining about the dark content and saying it's "too much" and claiming that it's triggering you in some way isn't valid. That's a you problem.

I think your issue may be that you think a happy ending requires Levi to be fully healed from his trauma, but the reality of trauma is, you never really get rid of it. You learn to live with it, but it never disappears completely. So if you want or expect there to be some miraculous moment of recovery for Levi where he simply no longer suffers from any of the issues I've presented in the story ever again, then I'm afraid you're going to be sorely disappointed, and you should probably just drop it, because I can't and won't give you what you want.

This is meant to be a realistic depiction of chronic mental and physical illness, and in reality, it's often the case that those things remain lifelong problems for people. You can't just hand-wave them away, and I refuse to do so just because my story might make some readers uncomfortable.

[tobeabatman]

sorry but your 'fat to thin weight-loss" post was more triggering than anything else in the thinspo tag. like i started uncontrollably sobbing after seeing it. people who's only goal is weight loss isn't going to be convinced by a post telling them that losing weight it a futile effort, all it will do is trigger more unhealthy behaviours/thoughts e.g after seeing that i thought 'well clearly they just didn't restrict enough, i'll be able to do it, i can prove it wrong'

Hey! I’m sorry it was triggering. I’ve taken the tag off the post now. I believe the tag was a bit mismatched otherwise as well.

Other than that, I won’t put trigger warnings on my post nor do I think the message otherwise should have been changed. I can avoid using certain tags if that does make people uncomfortable, though.

The truth is: fat to thin weight loss isn’t possible. It’s something that has been researched. Most people on the thinspo tag aren’t even fat, so the message doesn’t concern their bodies the same way it concerns fat bodies (which is why I believe the tag was out of place to begin with).

And I do understand that it’s a gloomy piece of information. Trust me, there’s still a part in my brain that feels saddened and out of control because of it. However, it is important to disclaim it to all the fat people out there who are trying to lose weight and end up in a deep sense of depression because they can’t, and always put the weight back on. A lot of people who are fat are depressed because they are told it’s their own fault that they can’t lose weight. We can’t live in a world where we never say: ”hey, btw, here’s research that proves your inability to permanently lose weight isn’t your fault”, especially when there’s industries benefitting from it.

And it’s important to say it because fat people can then better advocate for themselves in healthcare. When we know long-term weight loss isn’t even an achievable thing for most, then doctors can’t force us to lose weight as a solution to all our health problems. So many fat people die constantly because their only advice from a doctor was ”lose weight”. Things would be different if we accepted that those patients will never be thin permanently.

And I don’t know whether my explanation was needed or not for why I post stuff like that and this, but I’m sharing this so that I hopefully don’t look like an inconsiderate asshole when I don’t stop posting sh*t that can be triggering to people who are obsessed with losing weight. Point out any tags you don’t want me to use or want me to use, and I’ll try to compromise. I’m not going to stop saying stuff, especially when said stuff is backed up by research.

And I’m also not going to put a trigger warning (which they didn’t specifically ask for, but in case someone is wondering) on my stuff when so many fat people out there are mentally or physically ill, or dead because nobody’s saying anything, and when so many fat people could be empowered with these messages. People who haven’t worked on their (internalized) fatphobia will always be triggered by some parts of my content, and it’s not my job to undone other people’s biases. I’ll just try to aim for the right audience instead.

[turtletaubwrites]

So... uh... it might be final edit time again... 😬

I am so behind on comments and tags, but I love y'all so much! I swear I'll come up for air soon. I just can't stop. Every time I stop, my brain starts writing more, so I have to go write it down.

The last time I had a big writing spree was for the first half of Numbers Game before the break. This story just owns me, I guess 🤷🏼‍♀️

Part 22 should be up in a few hours!

Below the cut is an update on my mental health in case y'all are concerned (I am okay!! 💜) (cw mental illness, cw bipolar disorder)

Is the writing spree from the ADHD? The Bipolar? The fact that I just really love this story, and am having an amazing time writing it? Or maybe it's the lil fairies in my backyard? Lol, who knows

I monitor these behavior changes to try to spot what my bipolar triggers are, and to mitigate "damage," or to just make sure that my loved ones and I are aware of what might be going on. I've only had one episode since being diagnosed and medicated three years ago.

Starting writing fanfiction in November is how we figured out I was in an episode because it's apparently not normal for someone who hadn't written anything in years to all of a sudden write and post 70k words in three weeks. 🙃🙃🙃

I am a bit concerned with this writing spree, but I'm trying to remember that I am allowed to be happy and enjoy things. I've struggled a lot with my identity, values, passions, and joys since getting this diagnosis. (Afraid that feeling good = bad)

I'll still be monitoring and taking care of me, but honestly, if I am starting another episode, then I'm so grateful that I have this hobby. It's a FREE hobby, where lots of supportive people interact with and enjoy my work, and provide the DOPAMINE.

Compared to the things I would become obsessed with during my pre diagnosis manic episodes, this is incredibly healthy/safe for me.

(For example: dropping out of college to attend a $10,000 hypnosis course that I learned about and signed up for within two weeks to meet their deadline - luckily that impulsive decision ended up working out great for me and got my business going, but yeah 😬😬) (lol, we used the money for our wedding that we still haven't had, and the rest on credit. This is why FREE HOBBY is so important to me, lol. So many other expensive obsessions...)

I don't want to romanticize it, but occasionally I forget that I might be manic, and I just get excited to talk about how into things I am. Please don't romanticize mania!! Even though I lucked out last time, it is often debilitating and life ruining. I'm so excited that I'm writing so much, but I would rather not be manic, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone else!

Anyways, I AM OKAY.

If I am having another mixed episode, this is a safe thing for me to be doing. I'm having the best time writing this, and I'm so happy you're enjoying it with me! Thank you!! 💜🙏🏼

~ Lynna ✨