#im trying to not be invasive but also part of it at the same time help

[chrome-barkz-aac]

i made this instagram post !!! there isn't as big of a community of AAC users on instagram so I thought I would share this on my instagram (@cytochromesea).

EDIT: i got an ask that states that not everyone knows what AAC is which is an oversight on my part, it stands for alternative and augmentative communication!

Image ID:

A light blue background with a rainbow and a cloud and some stars. There is a blue border collie with wings holding an aac tablet that says I love you! Text reads: AAC etiquette. Do’s, Don’ts, and other stuff. By cytochrome sea.

The same background appears in every following slide. Text reads:

AAC is my voice! It is not a toy or accessory

Don’t touch my AAC without my permission

Don’t take my AAC away from me, for any reason (joke, punishment, etc)

Don’t press buttons randomly or flip through my communication cards without permission

How would you like it if I randomly poked you on the mouth and throat (or on your hands if you sign)? It would be unpleasant, so don’t do that to me

Some AAC users can speak sometimes. It is not your business why someone can or cannot talk

Don’t ask questions about why an AAC user cannot speak. 

Do let us communicate however is best for us in that moment

Don’t ask us if or when we will be able to speak verbally. It’s not your business 

Do not value verbal speech more highly than AAC. Any communication is good communication

Some of us never talk, either, and that’s ok! Those of us who can talk sometimes are not better than those of us who can’t. None of us owe you an explanation for our use of AAC.

Don’t look at my screen until I show you. It feels really invasive!

It feels like when someone is looking at your phone screen over your shoulder, so please don’t do this

This applies to low tech AAC as well, don’t look at someone’s cards or letter board until they show you

You have the dignity of forming your thoughts in your head before you say them, whereas my thoughts are all on display. Please afford me the same dignity that you get automatically.

Don’t shame someone for not being able to speak verbally. It makes us feel horrible

We are real people with thoughts and feelings. Please treat us with kindness. 

We are trying our best

Don’t shame someone if their device mispronounces a word. It’s quite literally out of our control.

Other Don’ts. Don’t

Don't Treat an AAC user as childish or stupid for not being able to speak. Our ability to speak does not define our worth

Don't Show frustration at the way someone communicates

Don't Make comments about how fast or slow we communicate

Also don’t…

don't Act surprised when we swear or talk about adult topics like sex, drugs, or violence. We are not pure uwu precious smol beans, we are normal fucking people

don't Assume what is “wrong” with us. There are about a hundred reasons for someone to use AAC and you probably aren’t the expert in any of them.

“OK, so what CAN i do?” im glad you asked! When interacting with an AAC user, DO…

Ask us how we prefer to communicate and support us as you are able

Assume that we are competent

Talk to us with the same respect, tone and vocabulary that you would for any one else

Give us money (this one is a joke)

Understand that AAC grammar isn’t perfect and we are doing our best

Is it rude if…

I can’t understand your device? Not rude! Misunderstandings happen all the time in any conversation, just be patient as you would normally. 

I want to complement your AAC? Not rude!

I ask to see your AAC and understand how it works? This isn’t rude if you are already talking about AAC, but don’t ask random strangers this. They don’t owe you an AAC tour. 

Thank you for listening! This post is for the community! If you are an AAC user, let me know if I missed something in the comments and I will pin it! I hope you are filled with peace and love and I hope something good happens to you today! End ID. 

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - the price of desire (part five)

warnings ; hm. sex in a trailer, oc turns into a pornstar, you ride the shit out of him wearing your corporate heels, unprotected sex

prompt ; in which you learn that your dignity has a price, and unfortunately, it looks a lot like Jeon Jungkook in Calvin Klein boxers.

note ; we are SO BACK. listen, i promised you all that oc would indeed get her lick back, and she does. wrote this while listening to wrong by zayn ft kehlani and it’s truly a bop that encapsulates these two buffoons. honestly if i could describe this chapter in a few words it would be: two people who are terrified of admitting defeat. (also at the end im adding a picture of how i think she would ride him so you can see it better. it’s actually mentally ill.)

playlist here

series masterlist here

The flight back to Korea was supposed to be a reset. A cold, clean surgical cut with no frayed edges, no bleeding. It was supposed to be 16 hours to realign, rebuild, remind yourself who the hell you are. The Chief Marketing Officer of Calvin Klein. The woman who keeps everything and everyone in check, not some sleep-deprived idiot who let herself cum at the hands of the one person she should have been immune to.

Instead, it was sixteen hours of psychological warfare because Jungkook was there.

Not technically beside you or talking to you. God, not even looking at you. He was two rows back, noise-canceling headphones on, hoodie pulled low, chewing gum like he didn’t just throw your entire mental state into disarray less than forty-eight hours ago.

His presence alone was enough to make your skin feel tight, like your body was suddenly a size too small. Enough to make your breath catch whenever you thought he shifted in your periphery. Enough to keep your arms crossed and your spine locked straight, mouthing emails you weren’t even writing just to avoid thinking about the way his mouth had felt on your skin.

It meant nothing, you told yourself on a loop. It won’t happen again. It can’t happen again.

Even days later, back on Korean soil, the ghost of LA still clings to you like a second skin. You’re jittery and constantly two seconds away from snapping, because no matter how much work you bury yourself in, no matter how many corporate fires you put out, your body remembers.

It remembers the sound of his voice at the base of your neck. The bruising grip of his fingers and the way he looked at you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your curves.

It’s invasive, the way it follows you. How easily the memory curls around you when you’re not paying attention. How you catch yourself thinking about him in the middle of meetings, in the elevator, in the fucking mirror. And it’s not even the sex — not really.

It’s him.

Jeon Jungkook. Annoying. Arrogant. Stupidly attractive. The human embodiment of a bad idea. The very same man who somehow lodged himself under your skin like a splinter you can’t dig out without bleeding.

The most embarrassing part of it all is you don’t even know if he’s thinking about it at all. You haven’t talked about it or acknowledged it. Maybe that’s for the best. Because if Jungkook isn’t affected, if he’s truly fine, then it gives you permission to pretend too.

You also know pretending will only work until you walk into a room and catch him looking at you.

Even Korea as a whole feels different this time. The skyline hasn’t changed, yet somehow you have. There’s a fracture now, something jagged where your certainty used to be. You can’t focus. You’re distracted in meetings, missing details you’d usually clock with a single glance. Your schedule is packed, brutal even, but your body is restless.

The real problem isn’t seeing him. It’s not seeing him.

It’s when a full day goes by without a snarky comment or a smirk tossed across the room. It’s when you walk into a space and realize he’s not there, and your stomach drops before your brain can lie to you.

It’s a problem, and you hate problems you can’t fix. So, you do what you always do when things start slipping out of control: you work until you drop. Your days blur into a haze of fluorescent lights and bottomless Americanos. Your nights stretch past midnight, stacked with back-to-back revisions and Slack messages you pretend don’t irritate you. It’s a self-imposed exile dressed up as ambition.

If you just keep moving, if you keep clicking and scrolling and typing until your fingers go numb, maybe the static in your brain will settle. Maybe this thing, this itch under your skin that looks suspiciously like Jeon Jungkook, will stop feeling so sharp.

Eventually, you tell yourself, he’ll stop feeling like something. Eventually, your body will forget the geography of his, the slope of his shoulder, the press of his chest. He’s like a ghost you can’t exorcise. Like a stain you can’t scrub out.

He’s in the stupid curve of his name in your inbox, the subject lines stamped with CK Global Campaign: Urgent. He’s in every mockup and mood board and creative deck stacked haphazardly on your desk. He’s twenty stories high on the side of a building downtown, flexing in black-and-white while your cab driver tells you, “That kid’s really famous, huh?”

And you just have to nod, teeth clenched like he didn’t fuck you against a conference room table a week ago and then proceed to show up in your meetings acting like he didn’t.

Even Daniel knows. Or, well, he doesn’t know, but you have to guess he does. He side-eyes you every time Jungkook’s name is mentioned, like he’s just waiting for you to crack and spill some dirty little secret you swore you’d bury.

You keep having to remind yourself that night was a mistake, a temporary lapse in judgment. But if it really was a mistake, why does it still feel like the only time you’ve ever let yourself breathe?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

On set, surrounded by your team, his team, an entire army of executives, creatives, stylists, assistants, photographers, lighting techs, and people whose jobs you’re not even sure of, you feel small.

Which is ridiculous, frankly. This is your campaign. Your brand. Your vision. You’re the one who’s been living, breathing, and bleeding Calvin Klein for years. You should be running this space like a general on a battlefield.

However, you’re struggling to breathe. The air is buzzing with the static charge of a shoot in motion; cameras clicking, stylists darting in to fix a hem or smudge of shine, assistants whispering frantically into headsets, executives murmuring behind you in languages you half-recognize.

And then there is Jeon Jungkook, standing under the studio lights like he was born in them. A living, breathing ad campaign. A nightmare of temptation.

He’s shirtless, obviously. Low-slung denim riding the edge of indecency. An oversized denim jacket half off his shoulders, barely hanging on like it too was seduced.

You swear every move he makes is calculated. The way he runs his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, or the way his lips part just enough, eyes hooded as he stares down the camera like he’s thinking filthy thoughts. The way the director mutters “Perfect” under their breath every three seconds, like they’ve forgotten how to breathe, too.

It’s all intentional. Normally, you wouldn’t even bat an eye. You’ve seen more male models strip down than a Las Vegas bachelorette party.

He catches you watching. He sees the way your gaze flits too fast and your lips press into a hard line when the camera catches the dip of his stomach, the flex of his thigh. There’s a warm, fuzzy feeling coiling in his stomach as he enjoys every second of your despair.

So when the director finally calls for a break and the energy shifts, you don’t even need to look up to know he’s coming toward you.

He stops close enough to be annoying. “You look stressed,” he says, voice low like he’s genuinely concerned. “Didn’t sleep well last night?”

Your fingers tighten around your clipboard. God, you want to smack him with it.

“Or… wait,” he adds, tilting his head. His eyes flick down over your figure. “You looked a little… distracted out there. See something you liked?”

You finally turn to him, expression flat and unimpressed, exhausted in that way only Jungkook can conjure. “That’s rich coming from a man who just pouted at the camera like a sell-out in a shampoo commercial.”

He grins, all teeth. “Don’t tell me you were watching that closely.”

He hums, dragging the back of his hand across his jaw like he’s thinking. He is not. “Was it the jacket? You like it off the shoulders? I can keep that going. For consistency, of course.”

You exhale slowly, sharply. “God, you’re the worst.” You say it through clenched teeth, laced with loathing and the last threads of restraint, every syllable a warning shot.

He only grins wider “Hm.”

You scoff, turning away and focusing on the clipboard or the set — anything but him.

That won’t stop him though. He doesn’t back off. He never backs off, not until you’re ready to scream or throw something or break, which you’re dangerously close to doing.

He licks his lips, runs a hand through his hair, and turns to walk toward the camera again.

Your grip tightens on the clipboard, nails pressing into the faux wood. Your throat burns and your skin prickles with a righteous fury that should qualify as terrorism.

You keep your expression neutral, like always, but your pulse is a traitor. You swear he can feel it from across the room.

The second the director yells cut, you’re gone. Not in a polite, professional, thanks-everyone-it-was-a-great-shoot kind of way. You don’t wait for playback or linger for wrap-up notes. You don’t even pretend to acknowledge the creative director who calls your name as you stalk past the lighting rig. You just turn on your heel and leave.

You’ve fucking had it. You’ve had it with the games, the smirks, the infuriatingly casual way Jungkook manages to dismantle your sanity with the arch of one goddamn brow. You’ve had it with how easily he slips beneath your skin like heat under a doorframe. You’ve had it with the way your body — your own traitorous body — won’t forget him.

Most of all, you’ve had it with yourself. This isn’t you. You don’t get rattled. You don’t get flustered. You don’t have emotions; not in the workplace, not for men like him.

You don’t let some overconfident, maddeningly pretty idol throw your entire internal compass off its axis.

So that’s it. You’re done.

One time. One mistake. End of story.

It never should have happened, and it sure as hell won’t happen again. Jungkook is just a blip, a glitch in the system, a fleeting indulgence. A moment of weakness you will not allow yourself to repeat.

All that to say — you head straight for his trailer, where you had seen him wander off immediately after the crew had wrapped.

You don’t even knock. It’s more of a courtesy tap before the door swings open and you step inside, all adrenaline and simmering fury and terrible judgment.

Suddenly, a wave of regret flushes through your entire being when you spot him. He’s lounging on the small leather couch like he owns the world. The jean jacket is gone, chest bare under the fluorescent light of the 80-square foot box. His hair’s a mess, damp at the temples, curling in a way that’s just cruel.

You freeze for a second, mostly because he looks like sin reincarnate and knows it.

He looks up at the noise and raises one eyebrow. His gaze drags slowly, down the length of you like he’s flipping through a menu. “To what do I owe the honor?”

You cross your arms. It’s part defense mechanism, part reflex, part an attempt to ignore the way heat is already crawling up your spine. “We need to talk.”

He stretches with his arms overhead, back arching, every line of muscle flexing. He then sinks deeper into the couch like this is his show and you’re just here for entertainment.

“This should be good,” he says, head tilted, grin lazy. He doesn’t sit up or even pretend to take you seriously. He just watches you, slowly blinking.

“You know,” he drawls, “I get it. You’re fighting a losing battle. Must be exhausting after getting a taste of me.”

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of your skull. “No, actually.”

You exhale, tighter now. Your arms fold tighter across your chest. You look anywhere but directly at him because one more glance at that ridiculously golden, unfairly sculpted torso and you’ll forget what English sounds like. “I came here to tell you that whatever that was in LA? That’s not happening again.”

A shit-eating grin spreads across his face, “Oh? You sure about that?”

“Yes.” You snap the word too fast like you’re trying to cut off your own uncertainty before it can betray you.

But Jungkook catches it and his eyes flicker.

He leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, fingers loose between his thighs, body language all nonchalance and arrogance. His expression doesn’t shift much, just a glint of amusement threading through the dark of his gaze. Like this is funny to him. Like you’re funny.

“You sure?” he says, voice pitched just enough to grate. “Because you don’t look very sure.”

Well, fuck you. You’re not. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Not him. Not the trailer. Not the fact that his abs are ten feet from your face and he’s still smirking like the devil on a good day.

The problem is you. You’re the one who cracked. You’re the one who came to his trailer. You’re also the one who kissed him like you meant it and moaned his name and said ‘thank you’ like those were your favorite fucking words. You swallow the truth before it can rise, pin your spine straight, steel your voice, and meet him with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “This will never be a thing, Jungkook.”

He blinks with faux curiosity. “This? What exactly is this? Because last time I checked, you were the one kissing me back.”

“It was a mistake.” Your voice cracks a little.

He hums like he’s rolling the next words around his mouth just to see how it feels on his tongue. “Yeah?” he says. “Seemed pretty fucking intentional to me.”

Your nails dig into your palms. You want to slap that look off his face. You want to scream. You want to throw something.

“Let me make this clear. Whatever happened between us is done,” you bite, every word clipped. “It meant nothing. And it will never, ever happen again.”

Jungkook just looks at you. Then, that slow, infuriating curl of his lips that says you’re lying and we both know it. That look that lives rent-free in the back of your mind no matter how many times you try to evict it. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

That’s what fucking kills you. It’s not the denial or the pushback or the audacity of the pet name. It’s that he doesn’t argue or protest.

He just sits there, calm and smug, like all he has to do is outlast your resolve and you’ll come undone all over again.

You inhale sharply, forcing the tremble out of your voice, trying to gather what little dignity you have left. “You think this is funny?”

Standing there in his trailer, flushed and heart pounding in your ears, the sting isn’t just in your skin; it’s in your pride. The way Jungkook leans back like your anger is amusing — it guts you in a way no man has before. This isn’t entirely new. You’ve built an entire career bulldozing men who thought they could outmaneuver you, talk over you, pat you on the head and call it a compliment. And yet he’s somehow doing what no one else ever could: getting under your skin. He’s dismissing you like you’re not the sharpest person in the room. That’s the part you can’t survive. Because if he doesn’t take you seriously, you lose everything.

“Let me remind you of something, Jungkook,” you say, cutting clean through the thick air between you. “I am in charge around here. I’m the reason you’re even working with us.“

He watches you silently. He’s letting you talk to see how far you’ll go before you crack again.

You step closer to him without your mind even realizing. You’re close enough for him to know you mean it. “I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am. You’re just another contract. Another pretty face in a stack of numbers I’ve already filed away in my brain.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you add, tone like steel. “You’re just some guy. Nothing more.”

His lips twitch. It’s not a smile nor laugh, it’s a flicker that screams you poor thing, you still don’t get it, and he’s three steps ahead and generously letting you believe you’re in control.

“You’re right,” Jungkook says, soaked in condescension. “You do run all of this.“

He tilts his head, eyes sharpening. “But you don’t really run me.”

He doesn’t move but somehow, it still feels like you’ve been pushed back. He’s peeling your confidence off, layer by layer, without even lifting a single finger.

“You can sit there in your perfect little outfit,” he says, gaze dragging over your clothes with infuriating precision, “and pretend like this is nothing.”

His eyes pause on your mouth and linger. “But I heard you in LA. I felt you. I know exactly how you sound… how you taste.”

“You think I’m scared of you?” you quip. “You think you’re the first man who thought he could shake me? Get under my skin? Please.”

Jungkook’s tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek. “I think,” he counters, “I’m the first one who actually did.”

You hate that you don’t have an answer to that, not one that doesn’t sound like a lie even in your own head.

The truth is a hell of a lot worse than anything he could say out loud.

You lean into him, deflecting all possible thoughts that scream at you in your head to do otherwise. You know him well enough now. You know what throws him off, what catches him mid-smirk, mid-thought, mid-breath.

“You know what I think, Jungkook?” you murmur, your voice the kind of calm that comes right before the storm. “I think you want me… and you’re mad I’m not begging for you.”

Your hand rises before you even think about it, fingertips pressing against the bare plane of his chest. Your hands trace along his collarbone, then glide downward.

His back eases into the couch with a quiet, reluctant exhale, his shoulders dropping, eyes never leaving yours.

And then suddenly, you’re hovering on top of him, hand gripping the couch headrest to steady yourself.

If he tilted his head, just barely, your mouths would meet. Your breath mingles with his in the space between you. There is a subtle twitch of his hands against the cushion, like he’s holding himself back from grabbing you by the waist and dragging you down.

You should really move away.

“Yeah?” he rasps like it’s scraping its way out of his throat. “What makes you think that?”

You should walk away. You should call it for what it is — dangerous, reckless, completely off-script.

Your painted nails drag lightly down his chest, and you lean down until your lips hover just above his jaw.

You let your mouth brush against the sharp edge of his jaw, a light kiss; it’s more suggestion than action, more threat than promise.

Jungkook goes still. When you finally pull back, his smirk is gone.

God, if you stay here another second, he’s going to grab you and make a liar out of both of you.

Jungkook’s breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling beneath your fingertips like you’ve got a hand pressed to a live wire.

The wire snaps pretty shortly after that. It’s just another lapse in judgement, right?

You’re kissing him. You don’t know who leans in — if it’s you, if it’s him, if it even matters —because the second your lips crash against his, the world narrows down to this one moment. This one reckless, dizzying, repeated offense.

Your hands dive into his hair, dragging through the strands as his fingers clamp down on your hips. Now you’re really climbing into his lap, knees sinking into the couch cushions, your thighs bracketing his. Your skirt hikes up and his hands don’t help. He groans into your mouth like the sound’s been buried in his chest since LA and finally clawed its way out.

Maybe you missed this more than you want to admit.

This doesn’t feel like some impulsive relapse. It feels inevitable. Like the universe was always going to twist you back together, no matter how many warnings you whispered to yourself or how many times you tried to label it a mistake.

Your nails scrape against his scalp as he licks into your mouth possessively. Your body is burning from the inside out when he’s kissing you like you’re oxygen and he’s been drowning.

He shifts under you, grinding up just slightly, and your breath hitches, completely out of your control. Right now, with his hands digging into your thighs and his tongue in your mouth and his cock pressing hard against you through his jeans, consequences don’t exist.

“Knew you’d come back to me,” he mutters, lips dragging across your jaw.

“Been dreaming about you,” he adds, “Every fucking night.”

Something volatile in you snaps. Maybe it’s the arrogance in his voice. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s right. Maybe it’s that he knows he’s right, and you’re sick of it. Your hand moves before you even register it, fingers curling around his jaw, forcing his face up until he’s looking at you. “You talk too much.”

“Oh, yeah?” He smiles lightly.

Your nails drag down the side of his neck, a slow glide of pressure over his pulse, and you feel it kick against your fingertips. “Use that mouth for something better.”

Jungkook lets out a low, broken laugh, but he doesn’t waste a second. His mouth is on your jaw, trailing down your neck, teeth grazing and your head tips back.

Oh god, this is wrong. You know that. You knew it before you walked in. You knew it in LA. You know it now. But when his mouth hits your collarbone and his lips suck just hard enough to make you arch, logic doesn’t stand a chance.

His hands slide up, fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt, thumbs brushing the edges of your ribs like he’s holding you steady.

You hate how good he is at this. You hate how easily your body gives in. You hate that he’s smug about it, that he dreamed this exact moment and now he’s watching it play out in real time.

“You wanna pretend you don’t need this?” he murmurs, “Wanna pretend you don’t want me?”

“Fucking knew it,” he says, and you swear you can hear the smirk in his voice, even as his teeth graze your jaw and his hips grind up into you again.

Your fingers dig into his hair, yanking his head back, and he gasps, eyes flying open, dark and glassy and so full of want it makes you ache.

“You think you know everything,” you breathe, drunk on the rush of having him under you, on you, wanting you.

His hands slide down, grabs your hips again, and grinds you down on him harder.

“I know you, angel,” he exhales. “I know that when I touch you like this, you lose your mind.”

Your stomach tightens, jaw clenching with the effort it takes to stay composed, but your body betrays you, thighs twitching around his hips. “Look at you,” he muses, grinning like the smug bastard he is. His hands slip lower,tugging at the waistband of your skirt like he has every right to. “Acting like you’re still in control when you’re probably dripping for me.”

Your nails dig into his shoulder, sharp enough to leave a mark, and your breath stutters, but it’s not because he’s wrong. It’s because he’s right.

Your laugh cuts through the air as you grind down on him. The friction is deliberate, cruel, and so very satisfying when Jungkook chokes on a gasp, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut. His fingers tense at your waist, trying to hold on.

“You think you know me?” you sneer, your fingers drifting up his chest, feather-light but scorching all the same. He feels you grind against him again, another sinfully slow drag of your body against the hard length straining beneath his jeans. “You’re the one falling apart right now.”

Jungkook groans and his palms dig into your hips as if he’s seconds away from losing whatever self-control he has left. “Aw,” you coo, your other hand twisting into his hair and yanking, just enough to make his head fall back, just enough to watch his eyes flutter and his lips part in a gasp. “All that talk, and now you’re sitting here, hard as fuck, just waiting for me to do something about it.”

His cock twitches beneath you, and you feel every inch of it. “Poor boy,” you purr “Thought you were supposed to be ruining me?”

“F-Fuck,” he gasps, his hands twitching like he wants to hold you still, wants to flip the script but you refuse to let him. You keep grinding and dragging him to the edge and smiling as he trembles for you.

“You gotta…” he pants, hips jerking up in a desperate, fruitless attempt for more. “Fuck, baby, you gotta stop—“

It slips out of his mouth mid-grind of your hips. It shouldn’t matter but it knocks the wind out of you like he’s pulled something tight from your chest without warning. Your brain stutters, stalls, like what the fuck was that, like who gave him permission to make it sound like more than it is. It’s not sweet or tender. But still...softened at the edges and intimate in a way you weren’t prepared for. He called you that before but this time it clings to your skin long after he says it, echoing in your head like a bruise you don’t want to look at too closely.

“Stop?” you echo sweetly, grinding harder, dragging your clothed core over the thick bulge in his jeans until he’s gasping, until his fingers go white-knuckled at your waist.

“Oh my god,” he chokes out.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” you whisper, your lips hovering but never touching his. “Not as fun when you’re the one begging, huh?”

“Fuck, please,” he breathes, forehead pressing to yours, his body trembling like it’s too much and not enough all at once.

“Please what,” you murmur, dragging your fingers down his stomach, stopping at the waistband of his jeans. “You gotta be more specific, baby.”

“Please, just… do something,” he begs,“I’m gonna fucking cum in my pants like a middle schooler if you don’t.”

God, the way you grin. Last time he had you gasping, whimpering, begging. Now it’s your turn.

“Aw,” you croon,“Sounds like a you problem.”

Your hand slips lower. When he realizes your palm is pressing down, cupping him through the heavy denim of his jeans… it’s game over.

“F-fuck, oh my f-fucking god,” he gasps, full-body jerking into your touch like he didn’t mean to and his hips have developed a mind of their own. His fists clench around the cushions, chest heaving, his lip disappearing between his teeth with such force you’re genuinely concerned he might rip that lip ring straight out.

Your fingers start to move, lazy circles over the aching bulge beneath his jeans. “You’ve really been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” you whisper, and the way his throat bobs is almost funny.

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook chokes out.”You have no idea.”

“You looked so fucking good today.” His voice breaks on the word good, hips bucking up into your hand,“I couldn’t, I fucking… baby, I swear to god—”

“You swear to god what, Jungkook?” you ask sweetly, tilting your head, “That you’re gonna beg me to let you fuck me?”

“C’mon, please—” he pants, and god, he’s so far gone, his voice is just a thread now, pulled tight and fraying. His hands cup your ass, yanking you down harder, grinding himself into your palm like pride is a thing he gave up fifteen minutes ago. “Please, please, fuck, just let me.”

“Let you what, hm?” you purr. His mouth falls open and nothing comes out but the sound of a man breaking.

“Let me fuck you.” His eyes meet yours, a tinge of desperation behind them.

“Fine,” you sigh as if it’s a chore, like you’re granting a favor to a desperate fan, even as your hand drifts to the zipper of his jeans, fingers working it open painfully slow.

“Since you asked so nicely,” you add, as you finally shift, lifting your hips just enough to tug his jeans down over his thighs. You hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers — the Calvin Kleins, of course.

You push the fabric down and his cock slaps up against his stomach. He’s soaked with precum that smears wetly across the ridges of his tip, dripping down the thick length.

Jungkook gasps and his cock twitches helplessly. The sight of him panting and at your mercy makes your stomach tighten.

“F-fuck,” He’s barely resisting the impulse to grab you, flip you, shove himself inside you and end the torture you’re so expertly delivering.

Yet, he stays right where you’ve left him because he’s that far gone for you. You’ve taken him apart piece by piece and he’s letting you. If letting you stay in control is what it takes to fuck you again, he’ll give you everything.

“You look like you’re in pain, baby,” you say, mock-sympathetic, your register so sweet it might rot teeth.

“I am in pain,” he grits out, his jaw clenched so tight it looks like it might crack. “So fucking do something about it.”

He looks like he’s five seconds away from ripping through his own skin just to get to you.

The second you shift and start to lift off him, he lets out a choked sound. You stand up, reach for the buttons of your blouse, still absurdly corporate considering what you’re about to do.

You slide it off and the fabric slips down your arms and pools to the floor in one smooth motion.

His breathing turns shaky as his hand moves. It’s slow at first, wrapping around his cock, dragging his fist down the flushed, dripping length because it physically hurts to wait any longer. His thumb swipes over the tip, gathering precum, slicking the motion.

Your fingers trail down your sides, circling over the waistband of your skirt, watching the way his eyes follow every movement like he’s been starved. His Adam’s apple bobs hard.

“So slow,” he spits out, his hand now moving faster over his cock,“You’re actually trying to kill me.”

The zipper slides down. The skirt pools at your ankles. You step out of it with ease, black heels still on, lace still clinging to your body like a perfectly wrapped gift.

“Take it off,” he demands, abs flexing with every ragged breath and precum now smeared across his hand and stomach.

“Ask nicely,” you purr, fingers drifting up your sides to snap the straps of your bra, not even touching the clasp yet, just taunting, because if anyone deserves to be edged to insanity, it’s him.

“Fucking please,” he begs “Please, baby, I’m gonna lose it, please just let me—“

And then, finally you reach behind you, unhook the clasp, and let your bra slip down your arms. Your thumbs hook into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down, one long torturous inch at a time, stepping out of them like you have all the time in the world.

And now you’re standing there wearing nothing but your heels.

“Oh my god,” he pants, his cock twitching violently in his grip, “Oh my fucking god.”

He stares up at you, and he’s not sure whether to worship you or find a way to survive you.

“Get the fuck back on me,” he growls, hand pumping faster and sloppier, like he’s seconds away from finishing. “Before I lose it.”

The second you climb back into his lap, it’s like you’ve triggered something primal. Jungkook’s hands fly to your waist, gripping tight. Like he’s genuinely on the brink of blacking out if you don’t let him inside you right now. Honestly, he might be.

His cock twitches against your entrance, dragging through your soaked folds as you hover above him, teasing both of you. The anticipation is borderline unbearable — it’s not even sexy anymore, kind of like pleasure and pain are having a screaming match in your bloodstream.

You take his cock in your hands, sink down and the stretch hits you like a slap, your mouth falling open on a sound you don’t even recognize. Your nails rake down his arms as your thighs clamp around his waist, the fullness hitting too deep.

“Oh my… fuck!” you gasp, chest heaving, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

“F-fuck, you’re so tight. So f-fucking perfect,” he moans, and it’s not even cocky anymore.

His hands slip lower, grab handfuls of your ass, trying to coax you into moving. The stretch is insane. Every nerve in your body is screaming and your brain is trying to make sense of how full you are, how your walls are fluttering around him like you’ve already started to fall apart.

“Sh-shit Jungkook,” you whimper, biting your lip.

The second you move, it’s a full-body reaction: your back arches, another desperate sound spills from your mouth.

Jungkook chokes on some animalistic noise. “Goddamn… so good,” he mutters, and it’s barely a sentence, seemingly escaping his mouth before he could process the words.

You start to move, riding him hard. It’s just you, bouncing on his cock like you’ve got something to prove. The pace is rough, your body slamming down on him again and again, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the trailer, your tits bouncing with every movement.

You don’t care if the entire team is standing outside the door right now. You’re not stopping.

You’re riding him like you’re trying to make him forget his own name. His jeans are a disaster, absolutely unsalvageable. Your slick is everywhere, dripping down his thighs, smeared across both your bodies, pooling beneath the waistband like a crime scene.

“You’re— fuck!” he gasps, his hips snapping up to meet you, “You’re so hot.”

You’d laugh at how basic that is, how scrambled his brain must be to resort to that, but you’re too busy falling apart.

The pleasure’s coming in these brutal, unrelenting waves. Every time he unknowingly thrusts up into you, it’s too much and not enough at once.

Your eyes meet his and something in your chest snaps, burns to ash on the spot. The look on his face is full of hunger and awe.

His cock twitches violently inside you, thick and buried so deep you can barely take it. “Oh my god.”

His eyes are glued to yours like you’re hypnotizing him, like he’s afraid to blink and miss the moment you break. “You’re — fuck! — you’re so fucking hot like this,” he gets out, his head falling forward. His body is shaking underneath you, sweat sticking to his skin.

Your whole body jolts, muscles clenching, heat coiling in your stomach so fast it steals the air from your lungs. You’re shaking now, the pressure building with terrifying speed.

“That’s it, baby,” he whines. His hips slam up into you harder now, fucking into you with everything he has left. “Fucking cum for me.”

Your orgasm hits like a car crash. Your body seizes violently, your thighs shaking so hard it feels like you might actually collapse. Your walls clench around him like you’re trying to pull him deeper even though he’s already as deep as it gets.

He nearly sobs, his hands tightening so hard on your waist you’re pretty sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow. “Fuck, baby,” His thighs lock, his abs contract, his breath punches out of him in ragged bursts.

You don’t give him a second to recover, and you barely let yourself breathe, because no, this isn’t over. Not even close. You’re not done until he’s broken and he’s begging.

“That’s cute,” you tease, leaning in, nails digging into his arms. “If you think I’m done with you.”

You can’t be, not when there’s still more to take, not when he hasn’t learned his lesson yet.

Your hands slide down to his thighs, steadying yourself, lifting just slightly. You plant your heels in the couch cushions, spread your legs wider, adjust your angle. You drop, sinking down again.

“Oh my f-fucking god,” His eyes flick down and you feel the way his whole body seizes as he watches his cock disappear into you again, and again, and again. The new angle has him hitting deeper.

“Holy fuck, you feel so good,” he groans.

You glance down for a second and… fuck. Your bodies are conjoined by a mix of your juices and some of his precum. You nearly moan again just from the visual.

“I’m not done with you, baby,” you breathe out, still high from the rush of your orgasm but already building again. You say it just to see the way his eyes snap to yours.

“Then fucking prove it.” He challenges.

You feel like a pornstar. Not in a glamorous, cinematic, airbrushed kind of way. The kind that lives in browser history and shame.

Your designer heels dig into the couch cushions, the extra height forcing your thighs wider, forcing your body into a position so filthy it should’ve been choreographed. You’re fully exposed and open, bouncing on Jungkook’s cock like you’ve never ridden anyone before.

“Holy. fucking. shit.” he gasps, each word punched out of him by another bounce of your hips, his hands gripping tighter like he doesn’t know what part of this is real and what part is a hallucination sent from hell.

His eyes trace the way your slick coats his cock, watching himself disappear into you. “Fucking yourself on my cock like you were made for it.”

“You love this, don’t you?” You manage to get out as your nails drag down his sweat-slicked chest, scoring red across tight muscle. You’re so far gone you can barely remember your own name, let alone why this is a bad idea.

Your walls flutter around him, dangerously close, your body already spiraling again.

“You love making a mess on me,” he grits out. You let out a whimper, fingers digging harder into his chest because you can’t stop now. You don’t want to stop.

The trailer is literally shaking. The walls rattle. The couch groans like it’s begging for mercy. Something in the ceiling creaks ominously.

Jungkook’s cock is slamming into you at a pace that shouldn’t even be possible, stretching you open so perfectly it hurts in the best way. Every bounce makes your breath stutter. Every desperate snap of his hips leaves you shaking uncontrollably, dripping around him, coming undone all over again.

You’re also being embarrassingly loud. Anyone passing by the trailer probably thinks someone is being murdered inside.

Jungkook sounds just as destroyed. His moan is guttural, ripped straight from his chest. “You love riding this cock, huh? Love how deep I get inside you?”

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, bouncing harder now. “Bet you don’t even care if people can hear us. Bet you’d love for them to know how fucking desperate you are for this pussy.”

His eyes fly open and he wraps an arm around your hips and slams you down on him, over and over, forcing you to take every brutal, devastating inch.

“Oh my god,” he groans, voice “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

His hands are shaking where they hold you, every muscle straining, every ounce of control hanging by a single, snapping thread.

The second he cums, his whole body goes rigid. He slams you down one final time, so deep you cry out, his cock buried to the hilt.

You don’t dare let him get lost in it. You lean in close, grab his jaw with one hand and force his eyes back on yours. “Look at me while you fucking cum.”

He listens, mostly because he’s so fucking gone for you. So wrapped around your finger that even now he gives you everything.

His eyes flutter open, but they stay on yours. Jungkook’s body trembles violently beneath you as you grind down slowly, milking every last drop from him.

“You talk so much shit, baby,” you murmur, “Thinking you’re the one who gets to ruin me.”

His cock is still buried inside you, still spurting the last desperate pulses of his orgasm so deep it feels like he’s trying to mark you from the inside out.

“But look at you now,” you purr, tilting his chin up with two fingers. “Cumming so hard for me,.”

“Fuck,” His lips are kiss-bruised and swollen, red from all the biting. His lip ring is cool against your thumb as you drag it across his mouth slowly, admiring your handiwork.

“Mhm.” You smirk, cocking your head, “Will there be no thank you?”

He just stares back at you, heavy-lidded. There’s something behind his gaze that you can’t quite read, something murky and not nearly as simple as it should be.

For the first time in a long time, it unsettles you.

You inhale sharply, trying to force air into your lungs like it’ll reset your brain. Like it’ll snap you out of whatever the hell this is, this thing tightening in your chest that has no business being here.

You shift off his lap, his cock slipping out of you with a soft, wet drag that makes both of you twitch. You roll over onto the couch beside him, eyes locked on the ceiling, your heartbeat trying and failing to find a steady rhythm.

You should leave. You should slide your clothes back on, straighten your spine, toss out some cold remark and storm out the way you did last time. Armor re-secured.

You should also say something biting that re-establishes the pecking order.

You just lie there for a few more seconds.

Finally, you sit up. You reach for your shirt, sliding it back over your shoulders, buttoning it with calm, practiced precision. You run a hand through your hair. You don’t even get all the buttons done before the regret slams into you, sharp and immediate, like a slap to the face you should’ve seen coming. It’s not guilt exactly. It’s worse. It’s that sick, sinking feeling when you make a mistake.

What are you doing?

He’s Jungkook. He’s smug and annoying and way too pretty when he’s cumming, and yet somehow, you keep crawling back like he’s the only drug that hits. All you can think is: you’re smarter than this. But god, the sex is so good it makes you stupid. Apparently, that’s your fatal flaw.

You glance over, and Jungkook is still watching you.

Something should be said here. You should say something. He should say something.

You force steel into your spine and venom into your voice. “Try not to get too attached, Jungkook.”

He huffs out a laugh. Somehow, it’s off, not with the same bite it usually has. “Please. I was over it before you even buttoned your shirt.”

Next, you would scoff, roll your eyes and toss another barb over your shoulder before strutting out like nothing happened.

You don’t quite believe him. You also don’t know if he believes it either.

You force yourself to move. Coerce your legs to walk, your heels to click, your fingers to reach for the doorknob. You walk out like nothing’s changed, like this is still just a game you’re winning.

But the thing is: it doesn’t really feel like a victory. It feels like a warning.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

*link to pic in question here on twt also in the pic imagine jungkook sitting on a couch instead of laying down

taglist ; @lovingkoalaface @maybetheproblemisme @mimi1097 @mar-lo-pap @mysjammy @yooniepot @tinytan-gerine @ashslight @sky-23s-world @myzzysstuff @elinaki92 @7fever @munchkin-kitty7-blog @uarmygguk @jjkluver7 @coletaehyung @jkxlvrr @amarawayne @kooslilhoe @bangchanwantsmesobad @kpopslur @senaqsstuff @sugakookies77 @tteokbokibyjk @emmie2308 @neurospicynugget @prxdajeon @majesticjung-97 @jksusawife @rkivesarchive @hyunjinswifetingzz @bjoriis @nan4rf @parkinglot-nights @travelgurrl @softhaes @bexxs @magicalnachocreator @wisebouquetbarbarian

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

—PA-PA-PAPARAZZI! —itoshi sae

synopsis ; sae always didn’t seem to care about anything aside from soccer. but just because he doesn’t care doesn’t mean he doesn’t remember.

cw ; gn!reader, swearing

now playing ; paparazzi by lady gaga

you’ve seen itoshi sae more than you see your own parents at this point. and the funniest part about it? the meetings are always purely intentional.

you work as a paparazzi. you hate your job, you really do. it feels like an invasion of privacy; in fact, fuck that, it is an invasion of privacy. that’s why you usually stick to different events or festivals to take pictures of celebrities, not when they’re taking a walk in their neighborhood just trying to live their lives.

of course, many other paparazzi weren’t very similar with your sentiments. they take pictures of celebrities everywhere, some even going as far as constantly lingering around a certain celebrities neighborhood just to catch some photos, even if it was considered taboo.

and yet…

‘the same mysterious figure appears in sae’s photo again—who are they, and should the authorities get involved?’

‘different photo, same person. is itoshi sae living out his very own tragic justin bieber and hailey baldwin situation?’

‘a stalker? a paparazzi? a crazy fan? or just pure coincidence? who is the mysterious figure constantly in itoshi sae’s photos?’

all published by popular news outlets. god, just why do they care so much? truth to be told, they were all coincidences. you were also someone who moved from japan to spain, and your college was close to sae’s apartment complex. its just that you went out a lot, and it often just so happened to be when sae went out or came back.

and whenever you saw him at a sports event or awards ceremony or afterparty, that was just because of your job. you weren’t a fucking stalker, and the accusations piled about you certainly weren’t helping your case.

walking down the streets of downtown madrid has always been a comfort for you—except when it isn’t. numerous pairs of eyes found their way towards you, you suddenly, there was a crushing pressure on your back.

“is that them?”

“the one who’s been stalking sae?”

“oh my gosh, do you think we’ll see sae here then?!”

“ew. someone call the police.”

you’re fucked. if sae were here, then it really would be just the wrong place at the wrong time. you inhaled deeply, continuing your walk of possible death.

suddenly, you felt you face smash into a hard surface. shit, you just walked into someone. “oh, im so sor—“ you looked up, but your eyes widened and your stomach filled with dread.

itoshi. fucking. sae.

why was he here?! doesn’t he have practice or something?! those thoughts ran through your head heatedly, as you looked around. “oh. my stalker.” sae said with a deadpan expression.

strangely, you felt offended. you knew that you weren’t a stalker, and yet considering your occupation as a paparazzi, it was reasonable to assume that you were one. but you weren’t, and you would never do such a thing. “im not,” you huffed. “seriously. im sorry that you got that impression, but im really not a stalker.”

he glanced at you for a good few seconds before walking away, the hushes of crowd forming around the two of you making your hands clammy. if you don’t clear this up now, you’re doomed for life. your social media will get leaked and people will start sending you death threats and then your college and address will get leaked and then—

you ran over to him. “seriously! my college is close to your place, and im a japanese student who’s only here for school! and i work as a paparazzi, and that’s why you see me at events and parties all the time. but i swear, i don’t stalk you, and i wouldn’t ever dare to!”

he glanced at you from over his shoulder and gave you an expressionless look. “did i say that i doubted you?” you froze. god, this guy was fucking rude. he pissed you off.

“uh, no, but—“

“then i don’t care.”

he walked away, and for the first time, you completely ignored the crowd around you. who did this fucking blockhead think he was? sure, he’s a professional soccer player with conventionally good looks, but other than that, what does he have? he hasn’t even graduated middle school yet. he probably can’t even solve a long division problem if he tried.

people accuse you of stalking him? you wouldn’t even want to have another conversation with this guy ever again if he’s always so unpleasant.

fuck itoshi sae.

[lovecrime2]

Hannibal Lecter x Reader

summary: you begin therapy with Dr. Lecter, a man who you quickly learn much from. from his intellectuality, to the darkness hidden in the furthest parts of his mind, you become enraptured with him. will he feel the same about you? therapy sessions turn into exchanging books with notes, cooking together, and seeing more of each other in ways you both never thought possible. a love story.

authors note: hello!! this fic will have multiple chapters and i’m so excited to start this! it’s also on a03. and im creating a playlist for this!!

Chapter I: Prima

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“Dr. Lecter is ready to see you now, miss.” the polite receptionist says, with a smile sent your way. It’s no more than a flash of positivity before she turns back to her paper work, reflected by her thin framed glasses. As her eyes scanned over the work, turning back to frantically look over her desk, presumably searching for something, she gave off an obvious air of worry. Perhaps she was new.

You were too.

Your first day of therapy. Well, your first day of therapy with this new psychiatrist. It wasn’t something you were exactly frantically nervous about- as the poor polite receptionist was. You’d been to therapy before. You were accustomed to the shallow invasion and prodding of the mind. This time, your hope was that this new Dr. Lecter would be unique. Different.

You’d heard many good things about him. Ranging from his written work and studies, to his success with patients. And after the worsening state of your mind and the life you had built around you, you decided that it was time to try again. So far, you weren’t disappointed. The office was classy. Nice chairs were set in the waiting room, where you had sat for some time. There was tasteful art, quiet classical music in the background. Bach, you had guessed. Other than the receptionist, it had emitted an air of class and calmness.

You flashed a smile back at the receptionist, returning the politeness.

“Thank you very much,” you replied.

You weren’t sure if she heard given how diligently she was scanning her desk currently. But it was of no matter, you had been polite, it was the most you could do. You stepped up to a wooden door, unsure if you’d have to knock. Before you could, the door was opened, and Dr. Lecter was revealed to you.

He was handsome. You weren’t one to judge or weigh value off of looks, but you would give him that simple statement. Looks were not the most important thing to you, and you certainly were not meaning it in a romantic way. But he was handsome. The eyes that quickly met yours were brown, maybe with a hint of hazel. His hair was brown as well, it shone in the light from his office. He wore a navy blue plaid suit, giving him an obvious air of seriousness, of class and respect. His lips curled into a smile, and yours followed suit.

“Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” he spoke, his voice was rich and soothing.

“Dr. Lecter, I’ve heard many wonderful things about you and your work. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well.” you replied calmly, mirroring his niceties and charm. He had a quiet suave demeanor. As if on instinct, you both reached your hands out for a handshake. More niceties. This doctor was very formal. You appreciated that. As your hands touched you felt his eyes scan you quickly. Almost like an eagle searching a field for prey. Though, there wasn’t malice behind this look.

“Please, do come in.” he said, leading you into his large room. And what a large room it was.

It had a mostly grey color palette, with the exception of the one wall which was a dark red. To your right was a large wall, with two large red and white striped curtains. To your left, a desk, obviously a professional one. Lamps and books and art decorated the top. Further back to your left was another desk and a chair, but nothing was on this one. Behind that, a fireplace. The room was lined with cabinets and bookshelves, and art (specifically paintings) were anything but scarce. Right in front of you however, were two chairs facing each other. And there was a ladder, on the wall behind them, leading up to another level of the room. This one was lined with books of all shapes and sizes and colors. You took note of the other items in the room. Your eyes scanned from the couch against the back wall, to the couch in front of the windows. The room seemed lightly dull at first, but the more you gazed, the more points of color stood out to you.

After having visually scoured the room, you summarized that the collection of books, European furniture, and art was not simply the doing of the building’s hypothetical interior designer. By his outfit and the look of the room, Dr. Lecter was a man of intellectuality, power, curiosity, and ambition. He was impressive.

“Have a seat, Miss L/N.” he said, gesturing to the two seats in the middle of the room- each sat directly across from the other. Each had small tables next to them, but one had a book (presumably for taking notes on patients) and a box of tissues. You assumed the seat that the book and tissue box adorned table belonged to: was his. So you took the other seat, smoothing the bottom half of your clothing as you sat down. He took a seat across from you, crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly in his lap.

“I have no doubt you know why you’re here.” he said politely. He was direct, eyes still piercing into you. You were afraid to look away. You wanted to maintain the eye contact but at the same time, the socially nervous part of you longed to break it, longed to gaze around the sophisticated room instead of facing his perceptive gaze.

“Yes, Doctor.” you replied, finally working up the courage to break the mural stare and look down as you smiled at him. He returned a brief smile, and nodded once.

“So then, I hope you won’t mind if I list off the reasons you put for requesting my psychiatric assistance which led to us meeting today?” he inquired, taking his notebook from the small table next to him.

“Not at all, go ahead.” you gave him an encouraging nod and he opened his book. As he looked over a page, a realization came to you. You realized how intimate the placing of his chairs was. You mirrored him and put one leg over the other. You wondered if this was a tactic of his to create a sense of connection, equality. Interesting.

“You have emotional regulation issues, accompanied by social anxiety. Past traumas, which I’m sure are accompanied by self-image problems, am I correct?” he asked at the end of his statement.

“Yes,” you said, pausing a moment. There was some more, but this was only the first session. You hated the way it sounded so labeled when it was later out like that, so shallow. Realizing your answer might’ve seemed curt, you rushed to say more. “Yes, that’s all correct.”

He set his book down on the side table and looked at you for a moment. The thought crossed your mind that he might be waiting for you to speak, you were about to say something when he spoke at last.

“How do you feel right now, at this very particular moment, Miss L/N?” he asked you, eyes endlessly boring into you.

“I feel,” you hesitated, trying to come up with the right words. “Comfortable and welcomed. Yet nervous.”

“I’m glad you feel comfortable and welcomed, I try to provide sufficient hospitality for those in my care. Though, tell me, why do you feel nervous?” he asked.

“I’ve just met someone new. Someone who will be peering into my mind, learning the most personal parts of me. It’s an odd thought that a man I met a few minutes ago will come to know my mind so deeply.” you replied, watching Hannibal process your answer. He had a good poker face.

“Are you afraid of what I might uncover in the depths of your mind?” he asked.

“I think everyone’s a little afraid of what can be perceived in the most personal parts of their mentality. We all have only so much we express. To the eye it may seem to show enough, but there’s so much hidden where we store our deepest thoughts.” you replied. You liked the knowledgeable banter.

“Knowing those parts of you is a fundamental aspect to your treatment, as it is to any patient. I am not here to judge, or to exploit. I am here to come to know your being and attempt to help it in a way that is beneficial to your mental well-being.” he replied.

“You make a good point, Doctor.” you replied, flashing him a smile. He returned it, and opened his book.

“Well then, shall we begin?” he asked, his eyes still focused on yours.

“Of course.” you replied.

And so began your session with Hannibal Lecter, your new psychiatrist.

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[thebestandrealestever]

~NOT YOU TOO!~

miles1610/hobie brown x black fem! reader

sum: miles cheats on reader w gwen, reader gets even 🤷🏽‍♀️

warnings : slang, the n word, cursing, cheating . emotional cheating. READER BEING PETTY unedited and not proofread

genre: angst, a lil of comfort?

a/n:i rly hope it don’t disappoint, part 2 w miles and reader make up eventually, cause i can’t stand writing miles as a dickhead. JUST A STORY, I DONT CONDONE CHEATING, DONT THIS TO PEOPLE.

- - - - - - - - - <\3 - - - - - - - - - -

first time in a long time.

hurting deeply inside .

there it was. the confirmation you so desperately needed to blow off on miles. you’d suspected he was messing with gwen for a little while now, him leaving you too go on missions with her that ONLY they knew about, being on facetime with her while he was at YOUR house, his highlight on instagram for her, not to mention the countless drawings of her around his room that he hid horribly, just a bunch of weird shit. you had conversations about it before but he always reassured you and gaslit you until you shook of the accusations. but now, now you knew he was cheating. miles was in the shower he left his phone on the nightstand, you looked long and hard at it. debating whether if it was a invasion of privacy, as you thought about it you get more and more upset. if gwen could be an invasion of your relationship then this didn’t really matter. you pick up the phone and put the password it, it’s his birthday (narcissist 🙄.) you go to gwen’s message thread, the blue heart next to it made you infuriated. your stomach twist and your eyes leak with tears that you don’t even try to wipe not wanting to miss anything. all of the “i love you’s” and the “im with her right now’s” made your fingers tremble as you scrolled farther into their text. why did he waste his time with you if he loved her? why would he do that to you? when did he fall out of love? what did you do? your thoughts quickly interrupted by the sound of the shower turning off you jumped up turned the phone off and put it in the same downward facing position wiping your face speed walking back to the bed pretending to watch tv.

“what’s going on now , ma?“ he asked referring to the episode you were watching. your face turned as you came up with a lie. “uh nothing really they just found out she was pregnant” you huffed, you’ve never been a good liar and miles could read your emotions like they were his own, you had no idea how you were going to go the rest of the night with him, so you didn’t. getting up from the bed you acted like your mom texted you to come home, frowning looking at the fake text. miles squinted at your pout, walking closer to you he said,

“you okay?” “my mom said i had to come home, she’s going out tonight and wants me to watch my sister, she’s sick” miles fake frowned “you want me to come with you?” he suggested walking to his drawers to get some clothes. you shook your head no “i don’t want you to get sick, it’s fine i’ll just facetime you okay?” you said as you picked up your purse and put on your shoes. “okay at least lemme drive you home. can’t have my baby walking alone in the dark.” he joked as he put on his own shoes and jacket too. you internally cringed at his sentence reminded of who he also called his “baby”.

trust, trust who?

watching my back even when i’m in the booth.

ohh, trust who?

you’re in the passenger seat of his car, seeing the blue hair tie in the cup holder that wasn’t yours. you stared at it for a bit rethinking your entire relationship. he glanced at you, then the hair tye. he spoke up rubbing your thigh trying to get your mind off of it. “u wanna go to the mall tomorrow? we can get froyo.” he suggested knowing that you liked the froyo place in the mall, you knew he was trying to make you happy so you wouldn’t question the hair tye you just went along with it.

“yea okay.” you smiled warmly at miles not meaning it at all. his phone buzzed and you both looked down at it, the speed of which he grabbed it in was almost inhumane. you side eyed him closely as he swiped the opened the message then turned his phone off placing it into the cup holder facing away from you. as you pulled up to your house he leaned forward to peck your cheek, you couldn’t stand the feeling of his lips on your skin right you. “bye mami, facetime me later okay?” he whispered as he looked into your eyes with that same look on his face that made you swoon once before. “okay, i will” you said knowing you weren’t. as soon as you got into your room you cried, searching in your mind for a clue on why he was doing this to you. you’d tears interrupted once again as your phone buzzed, who was calling you and why couldn’t they go away ?? you checked it as a small smile speared on your face it was margo. margo kess had been your best friend since before you met miles, she worked at the same spidey agency he did , or whatever the fuck it was called. you answered wiping your tears. she was eating unti she saw your expression. “what happened??? why you crying boo?” she frowned at you through the screen “miles is cheating on me with gwen, i checked his phone” you chuckled through sniffles as her jaw dropped “what the fuck?? u exposed him his ass right ??” she shouted and you shook your head “i was in denial i guess, i still can’t believe this shit” “you know what you gotta do right?” she said and your face turned into a confused expression “what i gotta do?” she rolled her eyes “get even duhhhhh!! you way to pretty to let this nigga cheat on you with a big back ass bitch you know that.” you snorted at her compliment “ion know mar, maybe gwen didn’t know we was dating” you said trying to express grace to gwen.

“bitch how?? all that nigga do is talk about you, not to mention youre his lock screen.” you tilted your head in agreement, she spoke up again “and you been told his ass all that shit he did with gwen was weird and he didn’t stop it? if he wanna act nonchalant you can act notchabitch” margo smiled as she her attempt to cheer you up worked. “speak of the damn devil, guess who texted me.” you smirked as margo raised her eyebrow “don’t tell me you talm bout hobie.” you tried to fight the smile on your face as you clicked on his message

“hey, wyd rn?” the text read. margo sighed as she saw the smile on your face “HOBIE. HOBART BROWN?? really (name)? well i mean the way he looks at you is crazy, and i been saying y’all would be mad cute .” she shrugged as she resolved up her own feelings, you nodded as you thought about it . was this really what you wanted to do? hurt miles? nonono if he didn’t care about hurting you he can’t say shit when you do it back. you texted hobie back “nun rn, wby?” and he replied almost instantly “im bored, lemme come over?” you almost laughed at how you realized that hobie has never cared about your relationship with miles . you told him yes and you said your goodbyes to margo as you got ready for him to come over, eyes burning as you saw the multiple hoodies that miles owned .

“hey love.” hobie said as he walked into your room from the window, you always noticed hoboes accent but you never noticed how attractive it was until now. “hey hobie.” you said as he lifted your chin up with index and thumb. “you’ve been crying? what happened ?” he said trying to read your face. “um nothing just stuff with miles” he almost winced at the mention of miles, he would offen tell you that he wasn’t good for you, guess he was right. “what did he do now. something when gwen again i bet” you sighed deeply remember the messages in his phone again. “yea, he’s cheating i just found out.” hobie eyebrows furrow as you say this, if he didn’t like the way miles was treating you before, he definitely hated him now.

“i was just joking but, really? what the fuck? after everything you’ve done for him? i’m gonna murder him i swear to g-“ “hobie no, no don’t say anything. i’m fine i’m gonna deal with it myself.” you say pushing him back with your fingers. “at least let me make you feel better.” he said giving you a tight hug. he smirked as he said “you know i’d never make you feel like that.” you snorted into his chest pulling away, hobie grabbed your face with both hands and kissed your forehead. “you don’t deserve this ,(name) you deserve the entire world” he muttered , looking down at you with so much care. stand on your tipe toes to kiss hobie, he doesn’t kiss back for a while in shock but then he reciprocates it and you know you shouldn’t do this, that’s the exact reason why you did it anyway . you pull away looking up into his deep brown eyes, you needed this, comfort from someone that wasn’t hurting you. someone that wasn’t him. he kissed you again more aggressively this time. he pulls away this time only to catch his breath. he pecks your lips once , then twice. he smiles at you then walks to the bed and turns on the tv, you thought it was weird but you also didn’t want to talk about it, and definitely didn’t wanna do anything further. after watching tv with him at a uncomfortable distance you decide to address the elephant in the room.

“so, we not gon talk about that?” you turn off the tv before turning your head to look at him and he does the same “we don’t have to, you know i like you. but i don’t think you need that tonight, i think you just need me here.” he said and honestly, he was right. even though he had you all the way fucked up onna tuesday, you still loved him. you just nod at hobie and he kisses your cheek wrapping his arms around you so he’s spooning you, the way hobie is holding makes you think that he’s the only boy in the world. he falls asleep and you lie awake looking at the ceiling, you decide to go on instagram looking at people’s story until you see gwen’s story, it was a picture of her and miles in his car her feet up on the dashboard, the same car you were just in, the same car you had your first kiss in. that’s not even the half of it, the picture had a “besties” caption on it but you could tell from 20 miles away they were far from that. you take a picture of hobie asleep and post it, tagging him too copying the same caption as gwen had. after maybe 20 minutes miles replies to it “wtf? why are you letting hobie touch you like that? and i thought u had to watch your sister” “and i thought you and gwen were besties?” you reply back sending him the screenshots you send to your phone if gwen and miles text he starts blowing u up like crazy but you put your phone down and snuggle closer into hobie, maybe you could get even.

doing my own thing,

i’m down to come clean,

not like you.

lmk wat u think 😭.

[cieloclercs]

what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 5/? (read part 4 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

pairing. charles leclerc x artsy!reader

warnings. it’s GROVELLING time !! sad charles, sad reader, swearing, everyone still kind of hates charles (as they should) angst but not quite as angsty as the last part

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. i hope this is enough suffering for you guys 😭 i’m weak tho so there’s a tinyyy bit of progress at the end 👀 i feel like this one’s a bit messy so i’m sorry about that?? it’s also kind of just setting up the next part but oh well 😭 anyways, LAST PART COMING UP NEXT ☹️ i’m gonna miss this series :’(

NOW PLAYING | Singapore 2023 post-FP1 interview: Charles Leclerc

COMMENTS 32k

username i’m still charles’ number 1 hater rn but he looked so sad at the end… ☹️

username girl no we need to be strong! don’t fall for the sad puppy dog eyes (i know he’s cute but srsly don’t) 🫠

username you’re right, you’re right 😔 haters until the end 🫡

username sir don’t try and blame your shitty mistakes on y/n 😭😭

username HE LOOKS SO SAD I CANT 🥲

username i really hope y/n sees this and realises he’s actually sorry

username no way that’s too easy. charles needs to apologise properly !!

username oh my GOD the way he started smiling when he said y/n is his ‘lucky charm’ AND THEN THE WAY IT DROPPED WHEN HE REMEMBERED THEY’RE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE IM GONNA SCREAM 😭😭😭💔💔💔

username charles do you see what you’re doing to us charlesy/n stans?? PLEASE JUST TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL FFS 😫

username i swear if these two don’t pull their heads out of their asses soon I WILL COMMIT MURDER

username so real bestie 😔

username it’s such an invasion of privacy to ask about this though 😭

username fr the press don’t know when to keep out of it 😒

username i think he knows he’s in love with her now, he’s just not sure how to fix things ☹️

username i’m scared this feels like right person wrong time you know? 😃

username don’t say that 🫣 i’m just praying y/n forgives him. as soon as he apologises properly ofc, can’t make it too easy for him mwahahah

username i want to keep hating him but i’ve never seen him look that sad 🥲

username CHARLES YOU DONT GET TO ACT LIKE THE VICTIM WHEN YOU’RE THE ONE THAT’S CAUSED THIS

username so true. he needs to stop feeling sorry for himself and apologise 🙄

liked by yourfriend and 47,837 others

yourusername always on my mind ☁️💫

view all comments…

username SHE’S BACK IN MONACO GUYS EVERYBODY STAY CALM

username MOTHER HAS RETURNED !!!

username wait is that f1 she’s watching on her phone? 🤨

username omg it is 🤭

username SHE WATCHED THE RACE OMFG

username charles podium as well 😩😩

username it’s like he knew she was watching 🥹

username i hate how quickly everyone’s switching up on the charles situation just because of that interview but at the same time i can’t deal with my parents fighting anymore i need them to make up 😫

leclerc_pascale Bienvenue à la maison, ma fille ❤️ / welcome home, my girl

yourusername 🥰

arthur_leclerc YOU’RE BACK

yourusername did you forget? i literally saw you twenty minutes ago 😭

username the caption 🤔

username we can all agree she’s talking about charles, right?

yourfriend ma femme 🤩 / my wife

yourusername mon amour ����

username she is everything.

username forget her art SHE IS THE ART RIGHT THERE

charles_leclerc belle / beautiful

username EXCUSE ME??

username SIR WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE PHAHAHA

username charles get tf out of here 😭

username i love how y/n’s just straight up ignoring him 😭

username CHARLES IS HERE GUYS HOW ARE WE FEELING

username i’m so conflicted rn

username like i want them to make up but at the same time he needs to SUFFER like he made y/n suffer

username fr, make him squirm a little 😌

username idk guys, if charles leclerc commented ‘belle’ on MY instagram, i’d be on my knees in an instant 🫣

username girl please 😭

username charles babe please go away you’re ruining the vibes x

username i swear to god if he’s here just to fuck with y/n’s head again i’ll fucking kill him

username he wouldn’t do that

username @charles_leclerc if you want to win her back this is NOT the way to do it

arthur_leclerc @charles_leclerc what did i tell you? 👀

username HAHAHA ARTHUR STOP

joris_trouche @charles_leclerc you should listen to our advice mate 😃

yourfriend @arthur_leclerc @joris_trouche shut up both of you 😒

joris_trouche yes ma’am 🫡

username they’re all ganging up on him 😭

liked by formula1updates and 9,736 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N spotted at the same night club in Monaco 👀

view all comments…

username OH MY GOD IS IT HAPPENING??

username there’s no way this is coincidence charles is boutta beg for forgiveness i’m calling it

username y/n’s actually smiling tho 😭 charles please don’t ruin it x

username we need y/f/n to scare him off before he can ruin her night 🤞

username AHAHAHA YES

username what i’d give to be in that club rn 😔

username fr y/n better be roasting him 😭

➜ part 6

taglist: @cxcewg @incoherenciass @formula1mount @allywthsr @meabhcavanagh @driveswiftly13 @zzblooda @gaslysainz @be-your-coffee-pot @siovhanroy

[watermelonlicker]

https://x.com/a_not_a_/status/1800566567945801850?s=46

Hey! I see you have a lot of interest in the industry but you said you aren’t on twitter. I wanted to send you this thread and get your opinion?

the thread is fucking amazing!!! i’m gonna post a few screenshots below that are stand outs to me:

the fact harry started processing a lot in lockdown SPEAKS VOLUMES and the fact he felt free when he signed his solo contract shows how fucking insidious the x factor contracts were compared to what columbia had to offer and that’s not saying much bcos columbia is still owed by sony this shit is literally a giant web.

i already knew about rebecca’s allegations (another member from 1d’s season to make allegations for my non 1d followers that are curious) but what’s funny is the second screenshot that person tried to say “she doesn’t mean literally” and she was like “but i do…” says it all really when you try to be rational. this shit is not rational. this shit is INSANE. also what she said about the conditioning…. what i’ve been saying. everyone shrugs it off as “that’s just the way the industry works.” ok and you’re the problem.

this is interesting considering how close the boys were to 5sos and they toured with them…. i know ashton tried to clean it up in a later tweet in the thread but lmao we all knew what he fucking meant.

👆🏻 these are demonic and this is literally the winner of the FIRST SEASON like let that sink in. steve was silenced and the x factor was able to carry on for 13 years after. this doesn’t include simon’s other shows. and the last screenshot?? how easily he was threatened with a fake story but larries are crazy ok.

and this i mean??? louis walsh has literally slandered them for years so im not even shocked by this. also look at them referencing simon as the mafia when

I JUST SAID IT like…………. this shit is cosmic & the sad part about it all is the people who have read this/will read it, (especially the antis who stalk us) will still say we’re conspiracy theorists and still call us delusional. they will never believe otherwise until harry & louis say it themselves but the kicker is they know they can’t.

some of those x factor contracts are in perpetuity unless something lifts. it’s a sad reality but when we all die i want someone in 2089 to look back at our accounts, they’ve probably learned the truth by then, and they’ll realize how much people accept artificial realities for their comfort. people are angered by the truth for a reason. they don’t want to deal with it.

they call it invasive, harassment, everything you can think of to paint us as the villains instead of simon and his minions despite their victims speaking out time and again, all saying the same story.

like i said since ive started being vocal, for me it’s not just about the ship or for the expectation of a “coming out” as an award. what happened to 1d and being amongst larries is what helped me recognize after i left the fandom the homophobia and gaslighting my religious zealot family put me and my siblings through.

how they groomed and brainwashed us and told us things like “it’s for the best, you’ll save your soul, it’s god’s will, it is what it is, it’s spreading the good news” FUCK THAT. the only good news is exposing evil for what it is. exposing it so the next person doesn’t have to experience trauma of that magnitude from someone they were fooled into trusting. so the next person can be encouraged to be themselves from the start and not carry that baggage with them and end up hurting people they love. so they can have a goddamn chance.

[pascha-chan]

Today im coming to you with a Kisuke Urahara theory!!

He is the mastemind behind everything and i mean EVERYTHING!!

Let me explain..

One of the things i noticed is how after the soul society ark and Aizen's betrayel,nobody asks Urahara about the Hogyoku!! (Maybe they did correct me if im wrong)

Hogyoku feels like something very important and DANGEROUS,so naturally i expected the captains and their squads to form some kind of plans of either invasion or steal the artifact before it can be used or activated!!

Or i dont know ASK THE CREATOR HOW IT WORKS AND HOW TO DESTROY IT!!

Isnt strange how Yamamoto only told Ichigo to stay put and the rest are just gonna prepare for war,like there is nothing else they can do?

Like imagine back in the 40s Oppenheimer just created the atomic bomb,somehow the Japanese found out and stole it and the Americans instead of going nuts,they are like "ok i guess we are going to wait until fall so we can attack"

It makes no sense!!

Now you might say that even Urahara didnt know what the orb could do ,so he wouldnt be helpfull at that time.

But what about the time AFTER Aizen's defeat?

You're telling me Urahara Kisuke couldn t find a way to take the Hogyoku back and destroy it??

Again you might say that it was established that the orb is now fused with Aizen and cant be seperated,when Gin tried to take it but also remember when Ichigo said Hogyoku has rejected him and he is no longer its master!!

And there is also a KIDO SPELL THAT AIZEN USED AND WHEN HE TOOK IT FROM RUKIA?

Did they all forget?

So WHY THE URAHARA KISUKE GENIOUS EXTRORDINAIRE DIDNT DO SOMETHING!!

I'll tell you why ,because all of this was a big diversion from the real goal

ICHIGO UNLOCKING HIS TRUE POTENTIAL!!

And here comes crazy theory territory,lets go

At some point in the past somehow,someone something informed Urahara about the events that would lead to the destruction of the whole universe!!

Once the gates of hell are open and the beasts from hell escape is pretty much the apocalypse!!

So the entity(which in my headcanon is Fate personafied) goes to him and tells him "Listen the wold will end if we dont find the perfect replacement for the Soul King and you are the only one that can help"

Again imagine that the saviour can only succeed if we allow the World war 1,World war 2 and the Corona virus to happen,we dont know how many people will die but in the end the rest will be saved by the freaking Armagedon!!

It is the same with Bleach,Aizen rebelion had to happen,the Quincy invasion,Ichigo unlocking his true zanpakuto and Quincy powers,so when hell ark happens there is a winning chance!!

Also i find it quite curious how Ichigo is the only being that can kill the Soul King as Jhwach mentioned ( you need someone who is Human,Quincy,Hollow and Shinigami) and didnt get any powers from the King?

But Jhwah somehow got the Almighty?

Yeah ok thats not suspicious at all!

What im trying to say is that Urahara put all his effort and focus on making Ichigo the perfect vessel for the Soul King's powers and allow Aizen to go after the Hogyoku,so Aizen wouldnt notice!!

I mean how do you distarct a person like Aizen!

Simply,by giving EXACTLY what they want,the very thing they obsessed about for centuries.

Combing that with Aizen' s arrogance and supperiority,god complex,he never cared about anything else and why would Aizen care? Everything was part of his plan right?

WRONG it was just a part of Urahara's plan!!!

I just cant stop thinking about the moment Aizen figures this out,his mind is going to explode!!!

In the end everything from the moment of Ichigo's conception,which Urahara helped by saving Masaki thus creating the perfect conditions for a multi-dimmensional bei ng to be born,too Ichigo's true powers was all part of a bigger plan to save the universe!!!

[itsdawnforyou]

GONNA WATCH SURVIVORS OF THE FLUX AND PROBABLY CRY A BIT BECAUSE WE ARE NEARLY DONE WITH 13'S ERA AND I LOVE HER SO SO SO MUCH

Okay angel!13 looks AWESOME. I love what they did with it even tho its a very small part of the episode so far

"Blinking. Blinking!... tough crowd" I LOVE HER.

"We are transport" I KNEW IT! Check the last episode reaction I said it there HAHA! Im so happy with myself.

Ohhhhh the Angels talking in a distorted 13 voice is SO GOOD!!!

"My friends are never lost" girlie they somehow got to mexico in 1904 when last time we saw them they couldnt leave the village id say they are pretty lost! Also poor dan, that looked like it hurt.

Right right okay they need the date from the offering pot. And the grand serpent is trying to kill them?

THE HOLOGRAM brb im gonna cry. She literally made it a second before the angel got into the TARDIS, and then put it into her pocket probably just after they exited the tardis. Thats- gonna cry :( "hang on I think youre calling me from the control room" AND WHAT IF I SOBBED?!?!?!

The doctor and that woman (who I know is tecteun bc spoilers) are just as sassy as the other and its hilarious watching them banter like this but also makes me want to kick tecteun into the sun. Multiple suns. Several glowing burning suns.

Right, between universes. Well, not that far fetched, we have seen it before! Just not... suspended like that.

That monolith looks like the main part of the gallifrey city bubble. Hmm.. also hey look at that lupari are back, and the ship is being taken to earth which means she will know where vinder is once yaz and dan get back to their right time.

GAH NO THEY WERE SO CLOSE AHHHHHH

"Not scared. Wary, perhaps" definetly scared. Shaking in your boots, perhaps.

Doctor's mother issues: +1000000

"We are not the same" and she looks like a predator. I love how Jodie expresses the doctor's anger. Restrained, bearly held back, like a predator waiting to be let loose but held back.

I dont care much for the grand serpent. Is that weird? He just seems so disjointed from everything else.

Right okay swarm made a mistake of underestimating vinder and diane, 1000% sure of that.

I never knew a doctor and ood combination would be so funny and interesting to watch but it is and I love it! "Im very good at pulling rabbits outta hats" "I have no rabbits" "its a metaphor" "or hats"

They found the guy, he's pretty cool, he wacked dan which was a bit funny and also rude.

Tecte-bleh is trying to get the doctor to her side, which is such a bad idea, dont you know she will probably ruin your plans several times over?

KATE! KATIE! KATE MY BELOVED!!!

"Death, sir! Endless death!" So... door 9 is to gallifrey? Maybe the time war? Before or after the temporal lock.

Alright, sontarans again, another invasion fleet, now against the lupari. The lupari have had operatives of division, so presumably they are capable of a lot of stuff?

Tecteun got dusted, which... shouldve had a worse death tbh.

"And now you, Doctor" yeah okay cowboy try again later, yeah? Dont think itll work for you this time.

[asriaz]

I love HxH with all my heart, and I love all the characters including the girls, especially the girls. I always defended Palm as much as I can because, despite the obvious fucked up age thing, if you want, you can see what Togashi was trying to develop with her, and see that she actually have a lot of care thought put in her character. I mean, idk really about though as I think Togashi is more instinctual but u get it.

She is literally reborn and I think there is a lot to talk about not only her development and personality, but also how her existence affects Gon and Killua's relationship, how much she is important. But I only brought all this up to say that, rewatching the anime for the ?? time, this is one of the times that the treatment of women bothered me a little again (after the first watch and years of consuming and analysing anything and everything I can). I still think they are super well done and interesting, there is a lot to talk about each one, but the feeling of satire (?), or ridcularization of them didn't go away this time.

Bisky is super reliable, strong, taken seriously and probably one of the first truly muscular women in anime, I also dont think her wanting to be cute or her tranformation is bad, I love It, has a lot of meaning that can be talked about. But did they need to make her wear clothes that don't match her real body in that way? It seems like a way to reinforce a kind of tease of her body, I know that its like that because of her tranformation but, she couldve changed..? At least in the Killua training situation and not stayed with undeware, its a silly thing to complain but thats what Im here for, one of the only things that I have to complain in hxh probaly so Ill be silly as this is rare situation.

Palm aswell, who I've talked a little but still have lots to say, but in regards to the treatment specifically, the part where she's just treated like a complete extreme hysteric its actually Fine If wasnt in a comedy type of way all the time, and even after it's resolved, before the invasion, why isn't she part of any of the discussions? Why is she always in the background even after resolving Killuas needle arc and her being all over knov again. At this point there is indeed a lot of characters and a lot of pent up weirdness of Palm from the viewers, so maybe just make her a little more casual, idk, let her talk with all this dudes (shes not even in the same table to eat man) once without being hysterical, we know she can, she did with Bisky before starting to get mad mad, she does after in her own infiltration plan, why not 2 dialogs that dont just make Fun of her mental. ahh idk, Im a little bitter cause I actually really like her.

In the bigger picture im really satisfied with them and their arcs but its this little things, I just love HxH a lot and I think it does an immensely better job with women especially in the anime field, but this time I couldn't ignore these things ig.

Togashi seems to have realized this, and now in the manga we have much more variation of very important female characters. Not just that but the Bisky problem too, I mean, theres literally a tsundere kinda of guy made just find her super atractive (and not making him out with his feelings, Bisky doesnt even realize it. Makes me hope that he isnt just there to idk "make bisky accept herself for a man" or smth, he just is a guy that really likes her ig) and she have her body in nice clothes this time.

I love Togashi's approach to almost everything, he seems curious to just explore and experiment with concepts until he feels satisfied (like Gon huh), which brings some frustrations along the way but both for us and imagine for him aswell, theres usually a satisfactory reaching point. It was like that with his trans representations too and other things. I dont really feel malice in these explorations as I usually feel in other animes or midia, my guess is that Togashi Just like humans...? Anyway, I just wanted to get this out of the system. Still love all the woman, even tho before the dark continent arc they could have had more improvement, more presence in the main groups and a better spotlight.

Anyways Melody and Theta my beloveds

Ive never rambled on Tumblr and english is not my first lenguage so this was a outburst I need to share thoughts this is a cry for help I need to talk about hxh I love HxH Im Making a game and HxH doesnt leave my brain GET OUUUT I HAVE A GAME TO MAKEE YOU LEECH

[omo-queer]

hey V, I don't want to be invasive so forgive me for asking. how are you edging/ruining/ theoretically able to cum, all without touching? asking as someone who has only ever been able to finish with a specific toy and no other method lol im curious and also a little jealous!

thanks for the ask! this isn't too invasive, so no need to worry!

it bears noting that i am able to get myself off pretty easily with my own hands but i also have a right hand like a vibrator (and that's not really an exaggeration... people have alleged my hands are magic. i blame rhythm games and a body that hasn't always been the most interested in going over the edge by hand.)

the key components (for me) to being able to go over the edge without any genital contact are audiovisual stimulation, pressure, and tension. here's a summary of what works for me on these:

audiovisual stimulation—this one's simple. my brain really enjoys seeing and hearing people being penetrated, especially if they're getting off, and i feel almost a sympathetic response. i think this is related to the way some people can get off just from topping someone with a strap, although the strap does absolutely give some pressure with each thrust so that might be considered an "easier" variant of what i'm talking about doing (easier in quotes bc none of this is particularly easy to do the first time.) normally i don't watch that much vanilla porn (or really too much video pornography at all if i'm honest) but the easiest source of this kind of stimulation for me is watching simple amateur videos of people riding dildos. sound really helps. them having a real orgasm really helps.

pressure—this one is a little trickier, but it's got a few contributors. the more i need to come, the more "pressure" there is in that sense. (thank you, denial kink.) the fuller my bladder is, the more pressure there is from that side. (thank you, piss kink.) if i'm wearing tight pants and/or underwear or i'm under a blanket that comes into contact with my genitals that's another way to make the barrier to entry easier, although to get a perfect ruin i make sure to remove anything that was in contact as i pass the point of no return. that said, clothes and a full bladder both make the process easier, but i can get over the edge without either.

tension—this is the most difficult one to get right, i think. what i do, as i get more aroused, is roughly equivalent to kegel exercises, although i also tense certain muscles in my abdomen that i don't believe are part of the pelvic floor. this should work somewhat with any type of anatomy (and i'm aware of people who have hands-free orgasms with the two most common genital configurations,) as most people have some partially or fully internal erogenous tissue full of nerve endings that, when pushed on from the inside, is sexually pleasurable. this won't feel anywhere near as intense as direct stimulation, and i find it takes a while (and particularly good audiovisual material) to even reach the point where it feels like i could go over the edge. it also bears noting that the first few times i did this, even though i have damn strong pelvic floor muscles, i still ended up sore the next day like i was working out. don't hurt yourself, but figure out what muscles you can tense and release over and over that your body feels some slight pressure from. sometimes i find little thrusting motions with my hips help, though i try not to use these in combination with a blanket or anything because i think that would count as humping.

so basically, you're trying to get your brain so worked up that the idea of real stimulation is enough to get it to go over the edge, and at the same time do everything you can to go over the edge without touching your genitals (or, if you're a weirdo purist like me about the idea, doing things you consider "cheating." for example i avoid grinding my thighs together, humping things, anything that gives direct stimulation to my genitals.) of course, every body is different—and considering that the most important of this is about tricking the brain, every brain is also different—and so your mileage may vary. there's (of course) nothing wrong with you if you can't get this to work, and the first couple times i tried for it i couldn't manage it myself.

for the easiest setup and again this isn't easy the first time you do it, find the audiovisual material that works best for you, bring yourself right up near the edge in the way you would normally masturbate but not to the point of no return, and remove stimulation. then try your hardest to come by flexing and tensing muscles. if you get too far from the edge, bring yourself back up and try again. if you have other parts of your body that are sensitive to touch, you can lean on that a little (e.g. neck, nipples, thighs but not too close to the genitals) you can put your hands to work on those, although in my experience none of those are fully necessary either.

feel free to ask any questions this raises! i'm amenable to DMs, or if you're asking from a blog you don't want known (or just don't like DMs) you can also pick an emoji to send anon asks with! i have a list of taken emoji in my pinned, so you can pick anything that isn't listed there. i would love to hear any experiences you have using this info, and would be glad to give more details if they would help.

[ratinacoat]

hey, sorry if this is an invasive or bad question to ask, but do you have any tips to separate with the labels of ramcoa and highly complex did (hc-did)? ive been using the labels for years now, and im very very attached to them, and i find myself becoming very aggressive and defensive whenever people discuss the controversies about them, however i do want to try to listen and not be defensive anymore.

feel free to not answer this, have a good day :)

I have some tips that you could find helpful but remember if this doesn't work for you, that's okay. Everyone works differently, some things work and some things don't. Don't give up and make sure you keep things going at your own pace.

I'd start by privately changing how you refer to yourself as CDID instead of HCDID. As that gets more comfortable, change it on online profiles as well. If you wish to drop the labels entirely, repeat that process with CDID to just DID. There's nothing inherently wrong with labeling your experiences with these terms if you're not using them to one-up those with less intense experiences. However, with HCDID's connection to RAMCOA and the person who coined the term, it's not good to use. It also puts you at risk of harm as it basically labels you with your trauma.

Doing research on the origins of the term RAMCOA and seeing more in-depth the effects it had on people could also help you want to stop using it. The term coming from SRA and the Satanic Panic doesn't look that bad until you look into it and what the therapists who "treated" it would do to people. Researching Blood Libel and QAnon can also help put it into perspective. The idea that people are murdering, eating, SAing, and sacrificing children in conspiracies with no proof of existence is all that surrounds RAMCOA. Hell, even Trump is starting some new bs about immigrants doing this shit. It's all the same thing with different phrasing and that's the brief review of what RAMCOA is. Looking deeper makes it even worse. Learning the history of the words, phrases, and labels you use can make disconnecting from harmful rhetoric 100x easier.

If it helps, switch to OEA. While OEA is still the same term (just the up to date version) it can help you change that to just OA. Organized abuse is a thing and it's what RAMCOA is at the end of the day. Switch from RAMCOA to OEA then eventually remove the E and there you go, you've fully disconnected with the conspiracy theory terms.

If you struggle with feeling angry, aggressive, or upset when someone points out the flaws in something you didn't know, I would suggest stepping away first, coming back, and seeing if you and read through it now. Do that as many times as you need to. Remind yourself that sometimes you don't know things and that's okay, it doesn't make you a bad person, stupid, or less than. It's normal to feel defensive when you realize something you believed for ages is wrong, but if it's something you can recognize then it's something you can work on. Those are things I personally do and it has helped me a lot over time when realizing that being wrong is okay.

At the end of the day, go at your own pace with everything. You know there are faults and want to change them; you are willing to do the right thing and want to learn how. That's a good thing and one of the most important parts of changing the view on something you realize is flawed. You don't need to rush if you're willing to do the right thing in the end. Change and readjustment take time. Good luck. <3

This isn't directed at you anon but I want to make it clear for those who just come across this: RAMCOA deniers are not abuse deniers. The abuse is real but the term is harmful.

[ghostiewriter]

Im sorry I have to come to someone and talk about this part of the season (and all the season tbh). And Im going very in detail so sorry in advance

1) JJ family plot ???? Im so sorry but FIRST how JJ Maybank would even TRUST so easily Luke’s word no let me say how he would EVEN TRUST CHANDLERS???? Like are we talking about the same JJ??? At this point I knew the writers forgot their character trait like…JJ still going into Larissas grave made me roll and choke HE WOULD NEVER like in that invasive he would have call the shit of Chandler but mmm NO

2) the LACK of comfort or confrontation from Kiara?? Ive been noticing how less of a character the writers had given her since s3 BUT i understood the dynamic in that season seeing as she had to put her guard down so JJ could trust and go forward his feelings BUT THIS SEASON?? Im so MAD like what do you mean JJ tells her about his dilemma and she DOESNT SAYS A WORD?? NO COMFORT? NO HUG, KISS?? ANYTHING? How is it that his so call boyfriend has a literal IDENTITY CRISIS but she is worrier with Sarahs pregnancy (that friendship was the only thing that I cant save about this and its not even comforting) HOW IS THAT JJ can make all that stupid bullshit (that is so ooc btw) and SHE DOESNT SAYS ANYTHING?? Are you telling me she wouldnt be the first to find something fishy about a so call new dad of JJ’s?? Of Lukes word?? Wouldnt try to make any sense in JJ? Im sorry but they wrote her so DULL and with 0 personality like where is the character I felt in love with? JJ giving a fuck of Kiaras being literally put in a freezer, JJ treating Kie as she was a burden, Rafe being with them, not saying to Rafe to take care of Kiara while he was going to climb?? Him or Kiara running into each other arms after JJ and Sarah missing? I know this show isnt Jiara’s only show but they are best friends and lovers in case the writers forgot they had to interact as anything similar. Like any reaction of any of them would be good like Pope nor Cleo getting a thank god you are alive?? What a mess honestly

This being said they gave a lot of her traits to Cleo too because they can’t write women personalities in that room even if they had a fun pointing at them: sarcastic, cook, knowing about boats?? I love Cleo i really do she is an Icon but i guess they didnt know how to build two great poc women

Also the LACK of girls having the iniciative or the getting the resource or looking for the problem or finding the answer? (ik sarah has her scenes but they downgrade her as a mother like her only plot in this part was being pregnant and worried about that and its just SO unfair) like when Pope, John B and Kie are on the boat and the storm is hitting are you telling me Kiara didnt have ANY knowledge?? Kiara “you cant make anything without me” Carrera??? What do you mean?? And its the only scene that i can recall but there were so much more!

3) Sarahs pregnancy storyline is a JOKE and I write it with capitals buy it deserves bigger letters. Letting Pope and Cleo out, Rafe not saying a word, JJs reaction i mean… this are not the same characters and its so sad

4) Pope and Cleo being so distant of the pogues. What the heck was the whole military thing?? By the end I felt such a disconection with them and the rest.

5) WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KILL JJ AFTER ALL THE ABUSE AND THAT SHITTY STORYLINE OF LUKE NOT BEING HIS FATHER AND NOT KNOWING ANYTHING ABOUT HIS BIOLOGICAL ONES (ESPECIALLY HIS MOTHER FOR GOD SAKES) it honestly feels so DISRESPECTFUL FOR THE CHARACTER and I dont care if it were the writers or Rudy himself I want them all in a stick for allowing it. Its simply not right what a downgrade I cant believe it honestly.

The lack of scenes with JJ and the rest of the pogues (including Kiara) made his dead nothing special like are you telling me the first time he says I love you to Kie is when he is dying???? In WHAT UNIVERSE? Pope, John B and Kiara functioning after his death?? Are we talking about the same group from season 1 &2???

I dont think i finished with all my rambling probably forgot a LOT but im so pissed because for a moment I didnt believe JJ’s death theory but at one point in part 2 I really tought that maybe it could happen because nothing of his character was making ANY SENSE

He did stupid bullshit but was always so kind hearted and selfless. He was abused his entire life and loved her friends fierceless. He DESERVED so much more than what they gave him and im so MAD because he deserved to end up happy on his surf trip like DID THEY FORGOT ABOUT ALL OF THAT?? How in the world would you say that it was JJs storyline since season 1??? Its bullshit like the fucking storyline about his biological parents or whatsoever.

Im so sorry for the fans and the people who watched and had it as a comfort show. I cant believe what a lot of bad writing and unprofessional actor can do to a beloved show. I mean what do you mean you couldnt share romantics scenes with your cast mate?? Its so beyond the drama at this point I really never care about it if the job was done and deliver and now we can say Rudy cant get shit done and its such a shame.

I would want to say I will be watching next season but I would me lying so I will turn to fanfics instead (just like I was doing since s3). Thats canon for me now!! With whis I also want to thank every fanfic writer in Jiaras fandom because they all gave everything to build this world even better than the writers could and I hope you still write for them because they could have just been the greatest ship of all and I think they still are! Because after all Jiara is a fan’s ship and we create the rules for them!

i have nothing to add because everything you stated in here is facts💅

[dorkicon]

thingie i wrote about a tf au i mentioned a while back 😐👍 thanks to my pals on discord who had to hear me prattle on about this. questions welcome. etc.

helllooo.....SARtobots

the autobot gang (optimus hound bee jazz prowl ratchet and skids) are a team of rescue vehicles sent down to earth alongside cybertronian drones to help rescue people. optimus is a first responder/fire truck, ratchet is an old hippy ambulance, prowl stays at the base as their intell guy, hes a pre established package deal with jazz, who is a search and rescue copter, bee is a hardened foot soldier/scout, skids is a scientist interested in humanity, hound is our pov character, a rough and tumble upstart.

megatron is also planetside with his team. megatron is a keenly loyal general to straxus, the leader of the decepticons, soundwave is his long suffering 2ic, astrotrain is the strong silent type...he does whatever hes told, but he has a bit of a soft spot, seeing earths technology as wildlife to be respected, starscream is starscream, he has some history with bumblebee, making it his goal to snuff out the scout personally! thundercracker is hounds counterpart, and stars protégé. theyre on earth in search of devastator, a lost combiner megatron is convinced will be the secret weapon that wins the war for straxus. nevermind that the constructicons are scattered across the planet after being hurtled across space a kajillion years ago...and wont be too keen on battle once theyre reactivated...

so the cons and bots butt heads on earth, ignorant to the larger war until word gets out that the prime, sentinel, has killed straxus, causing an immediate power vacuum and knocking the decepticons off balance. good news for optimus' team right? well...

sentinel sent them to earth as an invasion! hes using those drones i mentioned to strip earth of its energy as a last surge to squash the decepticons and win the war. and who cares if optimus' team gets caught in the destruction? cant make an omelet without destroying a few nameless autobots right?

(hey i couldnt find a place to fit this but alpha trion is the real leader of the autobots. hes more of a figurehead though)

well at the same time, megatron learns that straxus has been murdered. before he can get it in his head to get revenge for his fallen leader, megatron learns frm his source that straxus was killed after going to alpha trion with peace talks. his leader, who megatron has been devoted to for millions of years...gave up! well megatron dismisses it as propaganda. hes going to kill sentinel prime.

the issue here is that the autobots are the only one with a ship...and those drones going haywire arent exactly helping things, bc theyve begun to attack anything that threatens them indiscriminately. so...the only solution is to aid the autobots in disposing of them, in return for use of their ship.

megatron and optimus come to a shaky truce, that no ones really happy with, besides maybe tc and hound, with their already budding friendship. bumblebee and starscream are like lowkey trying to sabotage it, until they realize they make a pretty good team. to their horror. for example. megatron, for his part, respects his side of the deal, trusting optimus to do the same. he slowly comes to turn that loyalty he had for straxus onto prime, who isnt exactly sure what to do with it--hes no soldier!

of course, they also have to work together to get the ship back online as well, since it was kicked offline back when sentinel activated the drones. thats...pretty much where im at atm. also i think shockwave is megatrons source on cybertron. loyal in any universe baby.

[sparatus]

7, 10, 18 for the OC asks!

name an oc who...

7. … has a physical disability.

honestly i think it's a shorter list of who doesn't. me, disabled, every time i make a new oc like "and let's give them a fucked up body part that doesn't work, i mean who doesn't have any of those"

i already said taeja for a different question so let's dooo the haziko twins! a pair of salarians from an unimportant family with mafia ties, raels, originally named yujai, hatched with no auditory nerves in her skin, rendering her profoundly deaf, while her twin brother (read: hatched at the same time, down to the millisecond, yes salarians track that) sitrith hatched with his eye membranes grown over his eyes and no optical nerves connecting his eyes to his brain, rendering him completely blind. raels, one of only a few daughters in their clutch, was deemed important enough to shell out the money for implants and hearing aids, but sitrith, well, there were several dozen sons, and it's awful expensive to make new optical nerves, and he didn't have the holes in the sockets for them to begin with so that would be even more invasive of a surgery, so, well. the two of them were already close thanks to their shared hatchtime, and ended up circumventing their disabilities by raels acting as sitrith's eyes and sitrith helping her "hear" via signing. they were rarely seen without each other as children, much to the chagrin of their ambitious mother and aunties, who wanted their daughters to go into politics and raise their family's social standing, which would Not be helped by a deaf daughter hanging around a blind spare son.

this is them btw: raels [x] sitrith [x]

10. … has a unique fashion sense.

hm. i make a lot of goths huh.

im gonna go with suhe!! suhe muon is a drell historian working at the citadel archives, she's a dusty-rose red and usually dresses in pastels and pastel goth.

OH I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT there's also galactian epirian, teia's big brother!! (making him the councilor's brother-in-law as well, lol.) he's a wildlife photographer and basically the turian version of a hippie; he was raised on the citadel, but upon going to palaven for basic training fell in love with the natural world and decided he was never going back to space if he could avoid it. he dresses in a lot of earth tones and neutral colors to avoid being spotted by the animals he's trying to photograph, and almost always has some amount of grasses, flowers, and other plants on him, sometimes deliberate, sometimes not. it's easy camouflage, but also he just likes how it looks, despite his sisters (the two he talks to anyway) teasing him.

18. … nobody ever believes.

another drell, eras "zippy" zainari! aka drell blurr he lives on omega and runs as a hobby, bartends to pay the bills but also sometimes carries messages and packages. he may or may not be the fastest drell alive, his friends insist he must be but he doesn't have the money or transportation to compete and find out. he's also a notorious chatterbox, and very prone to exaggeration and making things more exciting, so anything he says most people want a second or third source to back him up.

[testiculartorsionlover]

journal entry #1

a few days ago i saw my therapist, i kinda forgot what happened during our session. i might have experienced a partial switch/passive influence or i was just dissociating really bad (technically i guess they're basically the same thing.) i don't really remember why this happened and i wish i did, my memory always fails me.

i *do* remember at some point my dissociative issues were brought up, she gave me a journal to talk about it and i think to somewhat "communicate" with the other parts of me. ive been writing in it ever since. honestly? journaling is so grounding. i usually use digital journals because my parents are invasive, but this helps me a lot.

ive been finding entries that i dont remember writing in. she wants to read it when i go back to see her again in like 2 weeks. i think im her first client with severe dissociative issues, but she's treated people with dissociation before.

i feel a lot of things. a lot of shame and guilt. i don't really know why, i feel embarrassed about having a complex dissociative disorder, it genuinely makes me wanna die sometimes. she wants me to open up more about it to her. ive been working with her for a couple of years and i still struggle to talk about my DID or even acknowledge it in the first place. i even shudder at being referred to as a system or being called in plural ways. it feels icky.

it's gotten better atleast, making a Tumblr and seeing peoples experiences and perspectives especially from diagnosed individuals feels strangely relieving. it's really bad because i know it's anti recovery to be in DID forums and spaces in general. but it's strangely comforting. i guess its like psychological selfharm, but ill try to be careful with it. i don't wanna go at it like how i used to be and be way too involved especially while mentally stable. right now i dont feel too bad mentally atleast.

my therapist also wanted me to start swimming and a ceramics class. she says it might ground me more and to not meditate. meditation has always been a mixed bag for me. ceramics and swimming might be interesting. i don't really know how to swim and my only experience with clay was making tiny dildos to throw at my friends and to play with slime. slime is also very grounding for me, but i don't play with it too much.

i don't know why i posted this, but if you read this much, thank you for taking the time to read everything