#it’s my mental illness and I’ll do what I want

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Mama, I’m in love with a criminal

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, no curse au, dead dove, violence described including murder, dark romance, use of y/n, descriptions of mental illness.

Synopsis: Sukuna’s talking to his therapist in jail about you. He’s incarcerated because of you, and his obsession is concerning.

An: Yeah idk i thought of this while I was driving to work one morning.

Session one.

His large frame laid lazily over the couch, clad in an orange jumpsuit. He had his feet propped up on one side, and his head was propped up on the other side in a far too casual manner. His naturally pink hair pushed up near the front, messily so.

He was still cuffed and shackled, but the therapist was still afraid of him. To the therapist’s credit, he had read the warrant that went into viscous detail of Sukuna’s crimes.

Normally, the therapist wouldn’t read the inmates warrants due to situations like these. He liked going into sessions with an open mind, but he had gotten warnings about Sukuna… how the man can fly into a blind rage like a switch on the wall.

He was brutal, unforgivable, inhumane.

Simple counseling wasn’t going to “fix” a broken human like Sukuna. The therapist knew this, but the state mandated that Sukuna undergo weekly counseling sessions per his sentence.

Sukuna could taste the therapist’s fear, and he let out an earnest laugh. “You don’t even want to try to fix me, do you?” He asked tauntingly with a lopsided grin. “I don’t blame you. Don’t feel bad~”

The therapist swallowed the lump in his throat, and he adjusted in his seat. “I can’t fix anyone… Counseling isn’t about fixing.. It’s about moving forward and learning how to live.”

“Bullshit.” Sukuna spits with shrug. “Counseling is about focusing on the past and letting shit hang you up for far too long. I guarantee you that you’re going to ask me about how I got here, is that right?”

The therapist is shaking like a leaf at this point. “Our past can help us navigate to a better future.” He murmured out weakly.

Sukuna roars in laughter, causing the therapist to nearly jump out of his seat. The pink-haired felon doubles over as he laughs hysterically. “You’re a funny guy. Fine. You really want to know how I got here? I’ll tell you.”

After a deep breath and wiping away a fake tear, Sukuna goes on, “You know, teachers always believe that pairing the troubled kids up with the good kids will inspire them to act right. That shit never works.”

“I think that’s when my ‘type’ developed. My bitch of a second-grade teacher assigned me to sit next to this frail meek girl after I got in trouble one too many times for terrorizing the other kids. She was a real stick in the mud.” Sukuna laughs fondly, a rare genuine smile on his face.

“Y/n?” The therapist asks, remembering your name from the warrants.

Sukuna’s red eyes snap over to the therapist with an almost predatory gaze. His hands visibly curl into fists. “Say her name again, and I’ll splatter your blood all over this room. The officers won’t be able to pry me from you, deeming you to be a lost cause.”

The therapist freezes as the breath hitches in his throat. His eyes dart toward his panic button, knowing he should probably press it now, but he’s frozen in fear.

“We’ll call her mouse.” Sukuna goes on as if he didn’t just threaten the poor guy’s life in brutal detail.

“Mouse was a real challenge. I for some reason made it my mission to get her to talk to me, but she always stayed silent — only answering me with simple head gestures.” He laughs again, lying his head back further as he’s replaying the memories in his mind. He can remember you vividly and how you looked back then. He yearns for that feeling again. The feeling of seeing you for the first time.

“I can’t exactly tell you when the challenge started to border obsession, but she slowly slithered her way into my brain. Even when I wasn’t in school, I thought about her. I wondered what she sounded like, wondered why she wouldn’t talk to me, wondered why she looked at me like that.”

The therapist furrows his eyebrows. Even though he doesn’t feel safe in this session, and he doesn’t trust Sukuna at all, he has a hunger for knowledge, and he loves solving things that have to do with the human psyche.

“Looked at you like what?” The therapist dared to ask.

Sukuna stayed silent for a moment, and he tapped his finger against the back of his hand. His face hardened as he found the words he was looking for. “She looked at me like she had no preconceived notion of me. Her eyes… were so big and round. Even though she didn’t talk to me, it was like she accepting of my presence.”

The shackles jingled as Sukuna rubbed his face in a stressed gesture. Remembering you was like a double edged sword. He loved thinking about you, but he hated being reminded that he was without you.

The therapist eased in his chair. There was actual emotions underneath all those tattoos, thick skin, and muscle. The media had portrayed Sukuna as a complete narcissistic sociopath, but this was proof that diagnosis was false.

“I bothered the shit out of her for years, continually getting myself paired up with her.” Sukuna grinned, shifting the conversation back in a direction that he was more comfortable with, “I remember those asshole kids always called me her shadow because I followed her everywhere. Jokes on them.”

The therapist shivered as be remembered a chilling detail from the warrants. Each time a victim was found, a message was written in the victim’s blood.

-ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ

His victim’s - their deaths were like an homage to you.

“Were the kids ever… assholes to mouse?”

Sukuna’s jaw visibly tightened. He loathed this therapist’s questions… thinking he knew everything just because you and Sukuna were misunderstood kids.

“They called her weird for not talking.” Sukuna recalled as he bit his inner cheek. His eyes glared to the wall in front of him. “Now look at who can’t talk.”

Sukuna’s first victim. He didn’t start out with murder. He started out with stapling your bullies mouth shut for taunting you. Everything was for you. Everything.

He held a kid down to the teacher’s in third grade, grabbing a stapler, and he pressed it down one by one into the kids lips, binding them together. The kid couldn’t scream or cry for help, or else he’d risk ripping the flesh on his lips.

The teachers found the kid and immediately knew the only kid sadistic enough to go through with such an act was none other than Sukuna.

“Did mouse witness you do that?” The therapist asked, genuinely intrigued by Sukuna’s narrative. For being a ruthless criminal, he was a wonderful historian.

“No. Why would I scare her like that?” Sukuna’s voice was tense as he eyed the therapist carefully, as if he was waiting for him to say the wrong thing.

The therapist clicks his tongue in surprise, and he looks like a deer in headlights. “Scare? No.. no, I thought you’d maybe just show off what you did for her.”

“I’m not the type to show off.” Sukuna answers flatly, and the therapist wonders if that’s the first time Sukuna’s lied during this session. He knows that Sukuna likes to show off. The warrants prove it.

“Anyways, I wore her down over the years. She didn’t speak to me until we were in sixth grade.” An eerie smile curls on Sukuna’s lip. “I can still remember her first word to me and how she said it…”

The therapist leaned in, curiosity getting best of him.

Sukuna smirks, knowing he has the therapist interested now. “Her first word to me was a plea. A word to show her undeniable want. Her first word to me was please.”

Bang! Bang Bang!

The therapist literally flinches out of his chair from the heavy knocks at the door.

“Ryomen! Your time is up!” The officer yelled on the other side of the door.

“Pity. I was beginning to have fun.” Sukuna remarked as he stood up from the couch. The shackles jingled as he walked toward the door, and the door buzzed, letting him out. “See you next week, doc.”

[skeletal-rexie]

My story:

Hi, this is the story of my eddie Sheeran (😭) and how I got here right now.

I had a lot of trauma when I was a child, which I won’t get into right now, but the thoughts started when I was about 11. It was never serious, I’d exercise for like 2 days and then be like nah fuck this I want a burger 🤪 lmao.

I started engaging in the behaviours of it when I was 14, in 2019. Again, it was never something I was able to stick with, and I’d be over it within a few days. 2020 was a weird year for me, with the lockdown, I was determined to finally do it, that was also the year I did my longest fast of 6 days (never again😮‍💨). But it was a year of constant binging and starving, I saw zero progress. I didn’t know myself, what I could or couldn’t handle. I thought I could just eat max 500 cals every day and it would be sustainable (it wasn’t lmao), it always ended in a binge.

Then began 2021, the worst year of my life for all my mental illnesses. I was in an abusive relationship at this point, bullied by people, and I felt completely alone. And this was when my personal worst relapse began. I was at my HW of 58-60kgs, and at first, it began as a regular diet (August 2021), and then towards late September that year, I knew it wasn’t just a regular diet when I began restricting heavily again, and exercising daily. I lost 10-12kgs, and was 48kgs by the end of October 2021. I felt amazing, I felt so powerful and happy that I was finally, after all these years, I was getting somewhere. Yep well those feelings were wiped away real quick the following November, which was again, a month of constant binging and starving. It was awful, I felt like I had lost complete control, like it was someone possessing my body and making me eat all those pizza’s, when it wasn’t, it was all me, and only me. December that month was good again, I got back to 48kgs, and then went on a 3 day fast the days before Christmas, when I knew I was going to have to eat food.

Christmas fucked it up for me, and I tried to get back to it for 3 weeks, but in January 2022, I decided I was sick of this disorder, and tried to recover for good.

And I did, 3 years of no restricting, no thoughts, nothing, it was nice.

I got diagnosed with ADHD later that year in December 2022, and was put on elvanse (relevant later on).

Fast forward to jan 2024, and I got my first job at a fast food place (ironic much?), and I hated it, I was treated awfully by managers and co-workers. For context, there was an ADHD med shortage in the UK from August 2023, till march 2024, in this time period I had gained a lot of weight and was back to my SW of 58kgs, I then lost a bit of it again once I got my meds back, and this one girl noticed, and she would non stop brag and brag and brag about how she had lost 3 stone, her pants didn’t fit her anymore, and she was losing lots of weight. This triggered me, but I was recovered at this point, so I just left the job and went to find a new one.

And here we are now. So what triggered me so badly for me to turn back to it after 3 whole years? One of my managers in my new workplace. My new workplace is so so much better, the co workers are wonderful, friendly people. But I’m getting micromanaged by one of my managers, I won’t go into the details, but it’s really fucking infuriating. And because I have severe social anxiety irl, I didn’t want to mention it to him, so I turned back to Ana as a way of regaining my lost control in that workplace. I’m over the situation now, but I can’t stop, I don’t want to stop, I love feeling like this, and I think I’ll be like this for the rest of my life.

That’s my story, I’m sorry for how long this, I tried to shorten it as much as I could, thank you for reading lovelies!! <3

[will-of-dumpsterfire]

[angelnumber27]

It’s so embarrassing and heartbreaking being in so much pain over losing someone while knowing they don’t give a fuck if you live or die. Your favorite person becoming a stranger is a special kind of hell.

[tovarishch-dyke]

I’m like Johnny Truant in the tags of every goddamn post I make or reblog on this site and I’m not apologizing. If you want me to apologize come over to my house and you can talk to the minotaur about it

[seventh-district]

it’s finally getting cold enough that i can bring my cardigan collection back into rotation without feeling like i’m gonna melt into a puddle the second i step outside!!!

[rosicheeks]

Unfortunately relatable. I grew up in the church and have a lot of Christian trauma from that. I show up for special occasions for my parents… sometimes. But it’s uncomfortable from the moment I step through the door. Bigoted pastor, the self-righteousness disguising the prejudice, the political comments from the altar. Shots at young people left right and center as if the hell on earth wasn’t caused by the same older generation 90% of the congregation belongs to..

I miss being young in the choir and the youth groups and not struggling with it. It’s wild to look back at the younger version of me who was unshakeable in his faith and honestly just saddening.

I was texting my sister today about it and she said

“I 100% think ALL of us have a ton of religious trauma and everyone else in the family just doesn’t realize it cause they’re still drinking the kool-aid.”

I ran out of tag room and didn’t want to delete any 😭 seriously not lying I could write a book about all my thoughts and experiences

[flowercrowngods]

Hi! This might not be too helpful but I thought I'd share anyway just in case. You wrote in an ask reply tag that you realized that you are not a person who is okay but that it is alright. That reminded me so much of some of my own realisations about myself. I've come to learn that I cannot handle as much as others. Cannot take on as many tasks, as many meet ups (even friendly), or fill my day with as many things as people around me. It always felt like that meant that I was somehow less or weaker. But runninng into the same phenomenon over and over again made me question things. Also I would never think this about anyone else, this painful way of thinking was only reserved for myself. But with time I figured that maybe it was absolutely okay to have a different capacity for things. This is FINE. I'm not wrong or weak for this. Don't get me wrong, its still a daily struggle to remind myself, but it does get easier to believe.

So when I read this tag of yours I was really hoping that you meant it in a similar way, where this knowledge can bring comfort. You deserve the comfort! Wish I could hug you tightly 🫂

i love that you sent me this ask. i love that you worked (and are working) towards acceptance and respect and gentleness. you deserve that and i’m proud of you 🤍

as for myself, it’s a bit like that too, yeah

“i’m not okay but it’s fine it’s fine we move on anyway”

some days it means “i’m not okay but what the hell am i gonna do about it now except watch cartoons and try not to think until not being okay is not as prevalent and choking anymore”

some days it means “i’m not okay but i’ll try anyway, who knows what good might come of it”

some days it means “i’m not okay but in 10 minutes or an hour or tomorrow might be so i’ll put myself out there”

some days it means “i’m not okay and i haven’t been and maybe never will be and i get to mourn that, i get to be angry for all the past versions of myself who were refused help, i get to do things for them, because we are not okay and we get to be angry but still we deserve nice things”

some days it means “i’m not okay and that’s fine because there are people who will help me”

some days it means “i’m not okay and i will take a break now, i will breathe and try again later, or accept that simply cannot do this right now”

sometimes we just live with that mental limp, and some days it’s worse than others. we can’t pretend like it’s not there — what good would that bring? no, we just live with it. it’s fine, it’s fine, we move on anyway. but still we get to decide how and at what pace and in which direction we move on. it’s just the moving on part that is non-negotiable, and i feel like we deserve more credit for that — mostly from ourselves.

[will-of-dumpsterfire]

[sanchoyo]

ough isn’t it so fucked up that objectively good things happening still manage to give me anxiety so severe it makes me physically ill and cry. Like bitch we were upset bc we were gonna lose our insurance and are broke and we got a job!!! That’s a good thing why are u even more upset and freaking out!! Be normal!!!!! 🔫 sprays self with spray bottle

[stabyou]

[copperhearths]

I miss praying but I literally can’t keep any thoughts in my brain for more than ten minutes this year :/

[parttimepunner]

It’s hard for me to believe as someone who is naturally anxious, but there are actually people out there who are just ridiculously emotionally resilient. This is not to say that the above doesn’t happen, because it absolutely does and please check on your friends. That said, there comes a point where if someone says they’re fine mentally, it’s not your job to pry further or try to look for what’s “wrong.”

If you know anyone who seems really chill to the point of being virtually indestructible, like nothing could ever bother them in any way, could get hit by a train and just shake it off and be totally fine, laughing it off as soon as they've dusted themselves off and stopped bleeding, but who occasionally just randomly falls apart to complete fucking smithereens with seemingly no cause nor warning, only to get back up again a few minutes/hours/days later like "ok yeah I'm fine again that was weird lmao", and you've ever wondered what the fuck is up with that:

They are actually not ok and most likely are not ok at any point. The whole "hardiest person you know who just collapses randomly sometimes" thing isn't a deliberately constructed façade, as a matter of fact it might be something that they actually personally believe themselves to be. But in reality this is somebody who's either unintentionally learned or has been deliberately trained to hide negative emotions and mask symptoms at all costs, as the #1 priority that goes over any other survival needs.

So even though it may look like they go from 1 to 100 completely at random and unpredictably, and then swing right back again to being totally fine, you have no way of knowing how long they've been at 95% before the last line of defense broke down and the system collapsed. And once they flip back up, odds are that they just managed to scrape their shit back together again just enough to get their backup masking systems running. The "check engine" light never turned on because the wire was clipped years ago.

If this is you, this is your callout to seek some sort of help. I'm telling on everyone in this room including myself.

[moon-sie]

Fuck I fucking hate people

[rosicheeks]

Been thinking about you hon, missed seeing you around. Glad to have you pop up in my feed again ❤️

[cats-in-the-clouds]

my sister got engaged and we’re all really happy for her but my bitter rain cloud of a dad (who naturally she told last) is giving her a bit of passive aggressive grief about it despite her boyfriend being like the best man of our generation (presumably either because he’s not catholic or because my dad sees them as young dumb unemployed people who aren’t ready for marriage or because he’s mad he barely has any real love with his own wife or something). so like pray for us? i wish i knew what to do