#or I get triggered in public and I try so hard not to lose myself and start drama in public but I just can’t

[kavehater]

Man I just give up.

[makemeadoll]

✨Files Shared with Me!✨

I've been trying all videos sent to me by the friendly people of Tumblrville! 💖

I thought it might be a good idea to share them here so I don't lose them and also to help others find awesome stuff 💕

I'll be updating this list with files shared and also found by myself slow and steady, so we can all enjoy and share our thoughts! (Or mindless babbles hehe) #hypno files

I will mention those who shared or produced the files only if they explicitly share them on their blogs, or ask me to mention them privately (because privacy is now an important thing and we must play fair! ✨)

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Lovely Anon #2:

You Are Blank - Hypnosis Experience

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Simply amazing! So soothing, and it does only what it says. It makes you BLANK. I don't even know if I was asleep or traveled to another dimension hehe

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Lovely Anon #1:

Compliance Loop 2.0

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️½

Not a fan of B.S. and this one uses triggers from it. I felt good and it never mentions her, but it talks about "feeling like a bad girl" and I'm not into being punished, so of course I don't want my own mind making me feel bad for not doing something i'm not comfortable with.

Here to Obey - Miss Trancy

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️½

It gave me the chills a little bit because I want to stay away from the B.S. world and this one sounded like those files right away, but I think it's fine. She's never mentioned in it.

30 Minute Mind Control Marathon: Can You Survive It?

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Lovely but is meant to be listened while sitting down and I like laying down more so I couldn't follow a part of the video the first time.

Brainwashing Training Loop

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I found this one on their blog. SO good! Well, it's just a lot of mantras we see all around hypno stuff... and it gets the job done! Got me so floaty and easy to drop after 😵‍💫 (listened while writing this, and after it stopped I still heard it in my head until I noticed I had closed it already!)

Daily Trance Loop

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

OMG so soothing, so lovely, so simple and well made! Nothing complicated only listen and let mind be blank! 💖

Hypnosis: TRANCE TOY TRAINING

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Caught my attention, dropped me so hard, I followed along mindlessly and the trigger made me almost burst! No words. Fav. 💖✨

[M4A] Pretty Doll in Bliss [Dollification] [IQ Reduction] [Obedience Training] [Mind Blanking] [Subliminals] [Binaural] [Mind Fuck] [Hypnosis] [Triggers] [Arousal]

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️½

I liked it and I felt so good! Reinforcing my good doll triggers (even writing it got me hehe). I just don't like that it associates being doll with being stupid... 💔

Surrender

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️½

Umm Tiffa struggled with the theme because it's all about slavery and I'm not a slave I'm a doll, but if you're into that the file is lovely and I was drippy and relaxed and heavy and obedient hehe, I just couldn't remember the new mantras cause I'm not a slave and they're very specific

Hypnosis: Spiral Pocket

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️

I'm almost sure these files are Bambi files with "Bambi" swapped to "Toy" and also has themes of slavery in the background. The more my mind notices it the less they work on me. I couldn't even finish this one 🥺 but if you're into it, go ahead! 💕

Hypnosis, Binaural Beats, Subliminal Affirmations: Pleasure Slave Reinforcement

• Makemeadoll Rating: 🥺

Umm I cannot add a review because Doll is scared of slave files cause I am a doll not a slave hehe, but I'm sure it's great! I trust him a lot and gives me awesome files 🥰 Maybe try it and tell me what rating to give it by the public!

Doll Transformation Hypnosis (RAGDOLL///FREEZE///COMMADS)

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Nice video! Thought I wasn't deep but then realized I really was! Hehe. It asks you to get up and pose and move and change outfit and comment and stuff so be prepared being seated and in your room hehe.

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@secretlytranced 💖:

Rain and Relaxing Wetness ;)

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

She's lovely and amazing and she shares these files all made by herself on her blog. This one got me to mindlessly play with my tits while working 🤭

Be a Good Girl

• Makemeadoll Rating:

Homework 🤭

Sumbission

• Makemeadoll Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Makes me sooo suggestible and it gets lost sooo good as background noise that now when it rains I remember the conditioning thinking it's playing 💕

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Me!:

Mistress Calia's Click Trigger Erotic Hypnosis [F4A]

• Makemeadoll Rating ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Makes me feel good and it's the first file I found and listened to and it made me have a crazy hypno dream and basically started my journey with files 💖

[F4A] A New Video by Your Favorite Hypno YouTuber: Obedience Training [Hypnosis] [Brainwashing] [ASMR]

• Makemeadoll Rating ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (+?)

I listened to this with a LOT of background noise, but I still managed to focus and suddenly I was out like a light. It's about "choosing" to become obedient, and even though I didn't like that much the way she spoke, I confess it WORKED.

{{Hypnosis}} Good Girl Trigger [Hypnosis] [Trigger] [Effects] [File For Females] [Obedient Effect]

• Makemeadoll Rating ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I think this one is very effective, but doesn't feel like it will be hehe. It's a hidden gem :)

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(There are more but I need to find them again first ☝️)

[grison-in-space]

Okay, so: I've mentioned that I have service oriented tasks in mind for Matilda, but I haven't actually talked a bunch about what I'm aiming for. In part this is because one of the biggest things I would find supportive doesn't seem to be a Thing at the moment.

Generally speaking, I need an executive function support dog. I think I can make this happen without overtaxing my dog, but I'm getting stuck thinking about what I want to teach and how to chain it, so I'm going to think out loud for a minute.

So: autism, ADHD, constant masking, and an objectively stressful ten years in Texas (fire! flood! school stabbing! literal abandonment! we have them all!) has left me with some burnout problems. I dissociate a lot and I need to figure out how to train that as an alert, but especially in the evenings I tend to get stuck. Most of my coping techniques relied on either stores of energy I largely just don't have or on anxiety over consequences to serve as a motivator. While I can still do my job pretty well (thanks, hyperfocus!), I miss a lot of care opportunities (things like: consume lunch. Drink liquids. Take afternoon meds). And I can tune out anything at this point.

I have found that there's a distinct sensory component to this, though: visual and especially tactile stimuli work way better than auditory ones. It's just that there isn't really anything that can do a mix like that right now. I've rigged some things to help but it's not ideal, and I've passively/accidentally trained every previous dog I've had to sit outside flailing distance and subvocalize until I get up anyway; surely it should be possible to teach a dog to help with this. Say, by progressing from a touch or lick to a nose punch to crawling into my lap to lick my face on a timed cue.

By the way, friends, you lose shit in burnout. Learn from my mistakes; try to mask less, fuck. I have a lot of grief I'm still processing over things I did ten or fifteen years ago that I can't do today; my capacity is just so much lower than it used to be. I am on an upswing--the move helped a lot, just getting away from Texas, and the new job environment has been helpful, and so have some med adjustments... but I'm not as fast or as hard driving as I used to be, and there are some things I won't get back.

Anyway. Plans. Public access groundwork is actually not worrying me too badly at this stage: we're working on dog reactivity, foundations, and settling, and she sees enough weird places I'm not too concerned about now. But it's the tasking pieces I'm hung up on. I have thoughts, at least, for the dissociation alerts and grounding part of the problem: I know how I hold myself and how I don't move in certain ways when I'm dissociated, and "touch" shaped into licking my hand or nudging me is something I can use for that.

But what would be really helpful is setting alerts for Tilly to go into Pester Mode on a timer. I think I can use a phone timer for this, probably, although I would really like it if I could make Gcal notifications work as a cue to set timers to. I can use "human stands up" as my stop cue for the behavior, and the start cue is of course the timer itself. Once summoned by the timer, I know what I would like her to do.

I'm just sort of stuck on how to go about starting this. I do not want to invoke Pester Mode without the timer, and I would ideally like Pester Mode to be reliably turned off if I stand up. I do not want to trigger Pester Mode for anyone but me. I can think of like half a dozen ways this task could go hideously wrong.

It's just that it would be so helpful if I could program a bunch of very specific reminders based on my Gcal schedule and then have a stubborn little dog break any hyperfocus and help me transition into a new behavior at those periods. Unfortunately, now that Matilda is old enough to begin thinking about beginning to shape the beginnings of this, I find myself stuck. What would you do, dogblr?

[sindumpster]

Any unbirth thoughts or ideas that appeal to you? Just in general. I currently have an ub-session and love your ub stuff. 💗

"ub-session" made me snort. I love it.

But hokey I'm gonna jot some things down so sorry if this ends up more of a jumble of words than anything. Also obviously this one is gonna be hella nsfw

-Ngl a lot of my go-tos with it involve the UB being orgasm-triggered. Because something something vaginal contractions which idk if I likened that to peristalsis or if someone else inserted that into my brain. It been...a while since I refreshed my sex bio. But if cocks can eat people then I can grasp at my straws and pretend it triggers the vaginal succ-tion.

-...which would also make sense if the pred(?) is a biiiit of a size queen. A dicking devolves to fisting. Could just be the fisting that triggers the succ. Also my humor is dumb so I like it when the other char is marveling over how far their arm can sink in. Mentioning its getting harder to pull back. Oblivious to all the warning signs before its too late.

-tho I will also die on my hill of pushy prey so someone actively being like my arm has gone past the elbow and this *still* isn't working. I guess I will just push myself in there. Because also, my humor is broken so this being the first most obvious solution the prey thinks of is hilarious to me. Post nut clarity is gonna hit hard (or they like it. Or it was the plan all along because they're a kinky fuck)

-forreal tho prey that's a kinky fuck. Realizing how stretchy the pred is and want to try it. Or has done it before. Just taking the initiative.

-I'm realizing a lot of these are about my broken humor so I will also raise you--pregnancy jokes. Because I like them with vore and other situations where the char isn't pregnant but will just go along with it because it is the easier explanation (and like, I say this as someone with a preg kink. The joke just doesn't hit the same when its actual preg tho lmao). Also UB being extra prone to this because the prey is sitting in the right place (as opposed to oral vore where stomach sits higher up. As if people would notice this and care but I will also die on my stupid detail hill)

-but also I'm a sucker for combo kinks and also I like my separation of different stuffed...organs? Compartmentalization kink? as in life so in kink IDK point is UB pred following it up with a stuffing session. Or oral vores someone (esp if they are not a fan of preg jokes). There's a bit of a power play there if the pred's like "well what are you gonna do about it~". Prey getting increasingly cramped or complaining about the growing weight above them. Or feeling each other's struggles. Two different prey poking at each other through the fleshy walls. I just think it's neat.

-also orgasm being a release valve as well. Because you can fuck (or fist) someone from the inside (There's a "cum out" joke here somewhere).

-Which could also be a power play on the prey's part. Or throw in some public humiliation where prey tries to pleasure the pred in public, and the pred must hide how flustered it is making them. They don't need to come out from it, they can just fuck with (literally) the pred.

-I like competitions of any sort but I do not care who wins. Even my bois I equally enjoy them losing to clever prey (or a pyrrhic victory). Or just kinky fuck prey. This isn't specifically a UB thing but for me it applies just as well. Could also be funny if this devolved from some kind of stupid sex contest. The "whoever cums first loses" where prey gets increasingly desperate to win and this results in them shoving themselves up there.

-also I like the "getting your hand stuck in the cookie jar" joke.

-MULTIPLE PREY. Because why the fuck not. Uterus party guys everyone is invited. Or smol prey if a large tum isn't your jam (but I am biased. Sorry. Not sorry.)

-MASC PREDS. MASC UB. NOT ENOUGH PEOPLE REALIZE THIS POTENTIAL JOIN ME OR POINT ME TO THE ART.

-which I like it doesn't have to be a sex thing but the "motherhood" or "age regression" sides of the kink aren't my niche so sex is usually how I go. It can be peril or even fatal, or warm wholesome safe vibes. I like both. And should go without saying but even the kinkiest sex can be wholesome.

-tho also the impressive side-eye in the afterlife when you admit you got digested by a snatch. Went out with a bang. Got your dick stuck in a living vacuum cleaner. This isn't really an idea.

-ALSO REFORMING PREY. If fatal is your jam. Idk man I'm still working out the kinks(lol) of how the fatal pussy would work without getting into the dark details of any internal pred/prey kinks where digestion is actually the least of your problems. Except my Space!AU where everything can be a stomach if you're brave enough. Alien anatomy you can do whatever the fuck you want so that's where my wackiest kink mechanics go. (Because I'm still working on this notion that I am "realistic" and will not break these stupid rules I made up in normal canon for some reason??).

-Tho I guess with reform you can have your "rebirthing" stuff. (Personally with the caveat they reform as an adult. I don't mind preg or even warm cozy vibes but again...parenthood loses me sorry. But feel free to use it lol)

-Oh and also face-sitting [GONE WRONG][GONE SEXUAL]

-Or I guess if you're really into dicks eating people can have a CV pred fuck a UB pred and the prey just gets kinda shot up there.

///and I'm sure there's a fuckton of things I'm forgetting. But this is already way longer than I intended lmao

[cherieye]

A friend I considered a close friend for 7 years has said some Red flag things to me the last couple months and the recent one was telling me I'm poor because I hang around only poor people (which isn't true) and their is no way my family has any wealth, because if they did, I wouldn't be struggling financially....

Was baffled that she would automatically assume such a thing and wouldn't believe me when I told her," I have a lot siblings that are actually doing quite well and my parents are no way poor. I'm poor because I am on disability assistance through the gov and it's risky to work at all, due losing my benifits and psychosis triggers." Which I honestly believe she thinks is me making excuses.

She has never been to the US and even tells me I'm not very brave because I'm not willing to walk on the freeways to find a job in my area 😳 ....anyone in the US knows, you are out of mind for walking or riding your bike on American freeways and let's not get into public transportation, especially as a woman. Well apparently since I'm not willing to do that, I'm not ....brave or tough.

......

We have collaborated a lot creatively, but has said so much these last few months that just makes me feel like she isn't a safe individual to be close friends with anymore. I feel like majority of the time I feel like I need to explain myself to only get gaslit.

I have heard her say people are so stupid for wanting people wanting gay roles to be played by gay actors, cuz than it's not acting then. I told her "it's because representation saves lives and actually gay people would feel more authentic on screen and portray the character more realistically"....she still thought it was ridiculous and I felt really off about her after that.

She also asked me "why do you care about people that don't even know you?" Referring to when I was trying to advocate for those fighting a revolution in Iran... that showing compassion and advocating would only bring me grief....

She keeps telling me she wants me to be happy and that I have pessimistic point of view when I bring up actually real issues happening in my reality living in US and Texas. Than she says really unhelpful things like "Just move out of the US to Europe if it's so bad...."

I don't know if I'll go no contact, but I have decided to have some space from her cuz I constantly can't ignore how she does not share the same values I do... especially as a humanitarian.

I don't like to end such a long friendship, but I don't think Its benefiting me...but making decisions like this is hard.

[zt4rv1ngzal3m]

Trigger warning this is me venting please just leave

Im so tired of crying all the time I'm so tired of being this sad excuse of a person. What is wrong with me... I'm trying so hard yet nothing is getting better, it's literally only getting worse what the fuck...

I can't go out in public because Im becoming even more so hyper aware of all my flaws and I critique every single little not so little thing about myself way more than before, nobody wants to be around me and i dont blame them, I wouldn't want to be around a self deprecating fat fuck either. I can't stand myself anymore.

It's like the more I try the worse things get, I try to lose weight and fast and I keep gaining and binging, I try to be nicer but I get told I'm a brat, a jerk, and I'm just in general not pleasant to be around. I shouldn't be here.

I deserve to be treated just like animals that can't get along with humans, I need to be put down. I can't stand this anymore. It's sickening and draining. I don't even know if I'm going to make it to my next holiday lol.

If I do, early congrats from myself since nobody will be around most likely by then.

I can't believe I turned out this way...

I'm so sorry.

[bandofchimeras]

religious trauma diaryposting

nah you don't get it. in my house growing up the kids would actually CRY if we heard someone say "oh my god" or cuss. even trying to briefly touch on White Jesus and Jesus actually being a Middle Eastern man got my fam so freaked out about potential blasphemy (????? idk, guess you can't criticize any portrayal of Christ) they shut down this whole conversation we were having about Palestine that was actually constructive.

when I say I grew up Catholic I mean, devout, convicted, delusionally Catholic to the point we engaged in cult behavior. and I want to, and try to respect other people's cultural Catholicism and understand my own family's cultural ties to it but bro....it's ridiculous.

I can't even imagine saying "What if Jesus kinda sucked?" to my dad. Like I do not have a mental picture of what would happen. With my parents you can criticize them, but you cannot criticize the Church. You cannot cross the line of blasphemy. It's draining to try and have a normal conversation bc in order to do so I have to pretend that sex doesn't exist, everything the Catholic Church has ever decreed is 100% absolute truth, and bodily functions are deeply shameful.

I am 28 years old. I cannot waste anymore of my life navigating this insane bullshit.

Cult recovery is so weird when the rest of your family is still in it, I'm just figuring out you can be a person without following some complex set of arbitrary rules. Like you can just exist. I constantly feel like I'm about to be struck with lightning. When I'm around my family they can be so sweet and we can have some fun but there's always a trigger line I have to mind so they don't self destruct and shut down or lash out at me. Neurodivergent religious people are incredibly fragile. And being homeschooled, that orientation was normalized to the point, along with having OCD, I have had to teach myself how to interact with the public without praying in my head for their souls or to God to protect me. It's terrifying, at first, and I still don't really understand people who just exist and don't feel a wracking pain in their core all the time from losing that delusion of absolute certainty in a belief. It's comparative to being told the Sun isn't actually real, it's a big prop in the sky created to manipulate you.

Anyways forgive the drama on main. I feel like a constant outsider and a dogged sense of aloneness, and worry that no one whose out here engaging in pop culture and living their lives actually understands the extent of the psychological damage that comes from being 100% immersed in a harmful cult for all of your formative years and leaving it to become the thing they taught you to hate and fear, and realizing you are hated and feared for having been part of the harmful cult as well.

The only time I've felt close to being seen is reading Hell Followed With Us. I related a lot to Benji's soldier like mentality of adopting new language and concepts immediately, and his hard-line dedication to destroying where he came from to prove he is not on their side, not dangerous, etc. it's fucking torturous. So that book was not fun to read at all. I barely can recommend it and will never reread it even though I am very glad to have read it. Felt a lot like watching the Passion of the Christ.

So yeah fuck off with "why aren't you over that by now?" I don't think I will be over it until I'm brave enough to publicly blaspheme and bathe myself in pigs blood or do a burlesque number on the altar of my home parish lmao.

[benefits1986]

Ora Et Labora Sunken Shit Hole Sanctuary

Hugs without hugging it out loud is this bitch's cup of matcha, always.

I vividly remember my trigger concerning space invasion. It happened during my birthday, and mother dragon's last day above the ground. It's too graphic for lunch break but I'm testing out how fast I can down a piece without drowning, this time around.

The hugs back then felt so real, in the same manner that I despise each of them. Each hug stabbed my insides because I've been CTRL + ALT + DEL mode on even when mom's vital signs are already on flight mode. The hugs felt intrusive, not calming. The kind words cut the wounds more deeply as I bleed profusely in silence. Truth be told, while I say that I'm always up for losing, winning keeps me up. Gaming numbers is my go-to. The lack of green numbers make me breathe shallower breaths. It even came to a point that I actually held my breath when I see red numbers on my mom's dashboards.

I've cheated mother dragon's death so many times and my batting average is 100%. So when she did so many alignments that took two years before the go live, I'm still trying my best to hang on to the green numbers. However, I can't cheat death; and while I know I ought to welcome it as a friend, mom and I's Invisibility Cloak is thrown out, forever.

The hugs given to me during my birthday morphed into well-guarded fortress which I strategically and tactically designed to keep out anyone who'd try to enter. Since 2012, I purposefully and passionately shut down all forms of emotional availability because I was done and over it and its the shit hole that came with it.

During the final speech I gave before mom's burial, I carefully curated my tears. I wanted to make sure that her last minutes on the earth's crust would be one that she deserved --on point, dalisay, quirky and cutting. It's probably the most excruciating public speaking engagement in my book. I barely shed a tear and up to this day, random people who were with us in those hours commend me with a job well done.

This is pretty much the sum up of my mom issues which I am facing after more than a decade this 2023, intentionally.

The hugs I'm getting are heaven sent after spending so much time in my sunken shit hole by choice, by will and by force. These hugs are not invading my territorial stance, which I find really curious. What's more interesting is that as I embrace Brene Brown's gospel, I am in a better place teeming with super slow and steady growth.

It's not easy to befriend the break as I'm a true blue pedal pusher on her wonky B. But, let this be a season where I choose my fight and get ready for my flight. These days, a "hug" well meant, is a sanctuary, a piece of heaven on this cruel and kind world.

I am an eternal WIP file girly in her ultra femme era with the goal to be a passenger princess. My edges are jagged, my flame is ember, however, these days, I'm really trying my best to "hug" the world back bit by bit. I guess, this is mother dragon's long overdue answered prayer that goes beyond this lifetime and the next for me.

May I consistently choose to show up for myself so I can give what I have with all that I am and all that I'm not. May I fine-tune my ways even more in the name of actually growing up and healing my inner children. May I continually learn the lessons of gentleness and vulnerability and the power and magic they hold. Though I'm super duper firm, may I keep slugging towards going beyond black and white, too. This is pretty much my prayer and my work. The roads are gradually converging ---Ora Et Labora meets Ikot, finally, unapologetically. It's never gonna 100% but I'm sure that I'm ready for a new chapter teeming with grace and grit. Akala mo naman my Philo paper ako kung makaarya ako dito noh? Hahahahaha. Tamad to cite because all I know is we all know nothing. CHOZ. But, when I drink, I know things in the same manner that I get unknown things, too. Okay. Hard stopping now because I want to see how much I've let my dark maroon heart bleed in blue. Also, sana ganito na ako mag-storytell sa work and sa life in 2024. Syempre, hindi ganito kahaba, noh. 'Yung saktong sapul lang with full intention. Abangan! Hirap mag-full contextual English. UGH.

[actually-nagito]

everywhere there is privilege, there are also those who suffer. there is always suffering amongst someone else’s privilege. Just because it is hidden from your view doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist. Most people try to pretend it doesn’t exist or shun it. Examples like the number of homeless individuals increasing as housing prices skyrocket; rich people will make vlogs showing off their renovations and constant purchasing and selling of houses. Meanwhile the only way to afford a house now if you’re gen z or a millenial is if you inherit it, and even then it’s hard to keep up the pay for water, gas, electricity, etc… It shouldn’t be so difficult to have a home, yet it is.

Those CEOs and rich business owners who can earn millions a year but still pay their employees minimum wage - minimum wage isn’t liveable anymore but rich entrepreneurs would still rather have a life of luxury than to admit they’re the cause. If people were actually paid a decent amount, maybe they could afford a house.

People becoming disabled from the pandemic, or war, and governments still not caring about disability equality. If you are on disability benefits, which in Canada is less than half of minimum wage, you cannot marry someone who makes over $6k a year or else you lose your benefits. AKA you cannot get married. Sure firing someone for being disabled is illegal, but making up a reason isn’t. Disabled people struggle to work everyday jobs sometimes because of their disabilities themselves, sometimes able bodied coworkers who are uncomfortable by them.

But they always try to hide it.

“Shh. Keep the disabled worker in the back, we don’t want customers to feel uncomfortable.”

“You can’t set up a tent here. It’s public property but past 9pm you have to go to a shelter. I don’t care if there isn’t clean or running water. I don’t care if there isn’t a proper place to sleep or bathe or even get dressed. You make the public uncomfortable by being out here.”

It’s always to make others feel less uncomfortable, but never to make us feel welcomed or part of society. We are outsiders because the rich praise those who make them more money, and shun those who don’t.

When homeless, some shelters kick you out from 9am-9pm. That’s a full 12 hours of having to go outside. In harsh winters, where do the homeless go? You get shunned or yelled at for sitting in a shop, you go to try and find jobs but in order to get paid you need a home address so they refuse you, a lot of homeless people can’t even work because they’re disabled and couldn’t afford to live anywhere anymore.

If you have a mental illness, people mock you for being weird. They mock you and laugh at you when their loud honking from their expensive cars trigger you into a flashback. They play games to see who can make you drop your groceries first. They laugh when you flinch. But yet they also want to pretend you don’t exist. Have a mental illness? Send them away. Send them to a psych ward that will do more harm than good. And if they’re disabled, a psych ward could k!ll them by not giving proper medications or holding back medications, or mixing medications together.

You go to a doctor for help because you’re suffering so much that you can’t even live properly anymore and no one can give you the care you need that quickly. That your importance and life depends on the schedule and availability of the doctor; who takes weekends off and has a house, family, and kids. Your illness doesn’t take a single day off. You don’t get a break. But you still have to wait years just for a doctor to see you and tell you they can’t do anything. If you even make it that long. Other doctors tell you to apply for MAiD if it’s so bad. They’d rather k!ll you than try and help you because the thing that would help you they won’t get paid a lot for.

I’ve heard (and been told myself) that there’s a treatment for colitis. But the treatment isn’t funded, and only one doctor in the country does it. It works, but doctors don’t get paid to do it, so instead they remove your colon. They’d rather remove a vital organ that could still have potential to work, just so they can get more in their pockets. The treatment is called a stool transplant, and it can be done a few different ways, some not invasive and some invasive. But doctors will keep putting you off, telling you “well you’ve been here 5 times (admitted to hospital for colitis issues), you need actually 6 in order to qualify for stool transplants”. Then the next time “well you’ve been here 6 times, you need 7 in order for a referral” and keep it going for years and years until you finally get booked with a doctor that actually cares about you.

If you aren’t a part of society, people mock you. People shun you. People pretend you don’t exist.

Because you remind them that it could’ve happened to them if they were born like you. Or that they’re the cause of it. Or that they’re so privleged they don’t even realize your existence, and when they do they pretend to help and praise themselves for giving you a dollar meanwhile you’d give anything just for them to let you back into society and treat you like a human and not a wishing well.

“Praise Jesus. Believe in the Lord. Here’s a coin; bless you and hope that Jesus will heal you.”

We don’t need to be healed. We don’t need to be religious in order to get a house or a home or food or have enough money to live. We don’t need you to pray us better. We need you to stop hiding us. Stop shunning us away. Stop treating us like we are a tragedy you can fix by giving us five cents instead of changing aspects of your livelihood to include us.

Most people though would rather despise you and shun you because you make them uncomfortable than to treat you like a person. They use the excuse that they aren’t used to it. That it scares them. It’s a burden to them. They must be lucky they aren’t you, then. So privileged that they tell you how much of a burden you are to them because they could never picture themselves in your situation. That it makes them feel uncomfortable, so they would rather pretend you don’t exist. Rather not talk to you. Rather dump you if you say anything about it, because it’s a shush topic. Society can’t hear them talk about it! They’d never willingly be there for you, unless they actually experience it themselves. Because to them, they can just pretend you don’t exist and their life stays privileged. But to you, now you’ve lost your only source of comfort. Or lost shelter: a home, or lost the only person who would even say hello to you and not scoff at you for sitting in a restaurant.

The privileged make me uncomfortable.

[leighlew3]

It’s funny that I did not in fact wake up the next day with hope again.

I’ve barely gotten out of bed for three days. I was absolutely unaware of how triggering it would be to see so many people gleefully cheering for the harm of women (including other women) and people printing up t-shirts with r-threat text, and posts encouraging the violation of women getting tens of thousands of likes and young boys across the country taunting girls in school now with the exact same phrase.

I’ve never been somebody with triggers around my traumas like that. But I’ve also never seen it being embraced and celebrated on such a mass widespread scale. I have never in my life, felt more unsafe as a female. And I grew up in a household of severe abuse at the hands of a man towards my mother and ourselves for the first 18 years of my life so that should tell you something.

We all knew it could happen, we’ve all seen how history has played out. But I wasn’t quite prepared for how I would react to it all happening now when I was already in a weakened place due to my grief over losing my mom and not being able to move forward from that. When you’re already hanging on by a thread and then nationwide, you are sent a message that as a survivor of multiple horrible traumas as a young girl/woman everybody is laughing at you and wants you dead. It’s hard, to put it mildly.

And I’m not even somebody who is the most vulnerable. And all of my empathy is just aching also for every other woman in this country who didn’t betray us all and Black women and my LGBTQ peoples. So I’m trying to figure out a way to keep breathing and keep moving forward and finding that fight that I’ve always had deep down that for some reason has completely disappeared. And I know that the reason is my world is gone since my mom died last year. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

And I don’t like feeling this way and I don’t like the fact that I can’t control my emotions because I’ve always been somebody who is very self-aware and very self analyzing and willing to take a look at my own fuck ups and hypocrisy and flaws and try to be better. But I can’t fix myself right now and I can’t fix anything for any other woman. And I’m filled with so much rage and despair but also absolute emptiness and helplessness at the same time which is bizarre. And I’m just hoping in the coming days that it turns into rallying and continuing to fight and being there for other people like I’ve always been.

But I think part of getting there is being very open and transparent in a public space like this. Because I’ve always been an open book and wanted other people going through similar things to know that they were not alone.

So if all of this vulnerability and admission of misery and emotional unwellness helps anybody else feel seen or understood then maybe it’s worth something and it’s not just the ramblings of somebody in a really dark place. 💜

Anyway, I’m sure tomorrow I will wake up inspired to carry on and say we gotta try to be the best we can be and have empathy where others have none. And in my industry (which is about to go further downhill) make things that entertain and represent people who need it now more than ever.

For now: g’night.

And for those who are feeling hopeless… I send you love. 💜

[trve]

tw for eating disorders

pros of halfway recovering from ed:

no more purging

cons of halfway recovering from ed:

still binging but this time im actually eating the full calories for the 3 bowls of cookie dough

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I'm the only person in the Florida Keys who still wears a mask whenever I go inside a public place, I get a lot of stares, a lot of glares (which are distinct from stares, more antagonistic), and a lot of chuckles, but I can ignore all that. What I couldn't ignore was when this older white lady lifted her leg like a fucking animal and farted on me. That was the single worst thing another human being has done to me in 25 years on this earth, and it is by the grace of God that I did not go to jail for physically assaulting that woman. I did call her a disgusting bitch out loud so everyone in the Publix parking lot could hear, and then I stormed off before she could respond.

This is the savagery I deal with. These people are absolutely beyond parody. Farting on people, spitting on people (no one has ever spat on me, but one guy in a truck spat at me, spat in my direction, but he was too far away for it to hit me), I wouldn't put it past them to dig their fingers up their ass and smear shit on people like fucking apes! How fucking bestial are these people? What point are they trying to prove? "Covid is a hoax, so I'm gonna shit myself in public to show how unafraid of germs I am!" She LIFTED HER LEG LIKE A DOG! Somebody's grandmother. If my gramma did this to someone, I wouldn't think it was funny, and I certainly wouldn't be PROUD of her or cheer her on. This is despicable behavior, but from her perspective she won this interaction because she got a rise out of me. That's what this is all about, just getting reactions. Doesn't matter if they embarrass themselves in the process, because they don't feel shame! It's not embarrassing to these people. They will never look back on this moment with anything but a feeling of smug superiority, if they think about it at all. Chances are this lady will forget it even happened in a week, it's so mundane to her. I doubt she goes around farting on a ton of people, I'm probably the only masked person she's encountered in months, but in her mind I'm no insignificant, so beneath her, that she can't even be bothered to commit this to p9ng term memory. It's like stepping on a bug. Even if she felt bad about it, which she doesn't, it's just a bug, one of many, a forgettable experience. The fact that I'm still mad about it would make her so fucking satisfied, it hurts. "I really owned that lib! I triggered him hard!"

I can't imagine going about my life like that. What kind of life must you live where you feel comfortable farting on strangers in public because you think its funny? This is elementary school bully behavior! Underdeveloped empathy! No sense of right or wrong! And we're really living in two separate planes of reality because there's no convincing them that their behavior is abnormal or inappropriate. In their world, they're completely justified and will never see it any other way. They feel no regret, no remorse, no self doubt, no guilt, nothing. They live truly blissful lives where they can molest anyone and never be molested. I still follow societal norms, I refuse to stoop to their level, so I lose. I am going about every interaction with one hand tied behind my back, unwilling to commit the same disgusting acts of indecency and disrespect, and that makes me weak. In a world of assholes, you can't get by being nice. They don't feel bad about being assholes because they WANT to be assholes! They don't WANT to be nice, they WANT to hurt people, and rarely ever get their comeuppance because the universe is uncaring and unfeeling. The United States of America is proof positive that karma does not exist, because otherwise our entire continent would have sunk into the sea by now.

[airplanned]

All the Trashy Novels Part 30

This was fun, y’all.  Thanks for humoring me!

Part 1...Part 29

***

She spent four days mostly standing in front of the Goddess statue, trying to glow without requiring something inappropriate to trigger it.  She could now get it every single time with very minimal effort, but that effort was usually Link coming up behind her and placing a kiss where her neck met her shoulder, or trailing his fingers from the inside of her elbow to her wrist.  And suddenly her skin was lit up like a camp fire, a fuzzy pleasure brushing over her like a thin blanket.  It was embarrassing and frustrating, but at least she could trigger it without an orgasm and could hold her luminous state for long stretches once she got it going.

"That's true," Link agreed.  He'd taken a seat on the ground with his arms resting on his bent knees.  "You just need to work on not making that face."

Zelda huffed, her arms flopping to her sides and her glow spluttering out.  "I'm trying!"

The problem was that now that she'd allowed herself to feel affection for Link, she always felt a little giddy and ridiculous when she did so.  Apparently, this manifested not only in a divine luminescence, but also in a love-struck look on her face.  Link referred to it as "bedroom eyes" when he was being polite, and "fuck me face" when he wasn't.  He'd taken a bunch of pictures to show her, and he was (annoyingly) correct.  She could not make that face in public.

"Maybe you'd look less sultry if you closed your eyes," he said.

"Then I wouldn't be able to see anything!"

"Can you use your Goddess powers to see things?"

"I can use my Goddess powers to glow!  They don't do anything else!"

"Are they supposed to?"

"I don't know!"

"Try it."

She closed her eyes and tried it.  She remembered the warm pressure in her chest and she remembered the heat of his breath on her skin and she thought about how he he'd made her a tiny little cake the night before and then blushed as she'd gushed over it.  Those were things that she liked about him.  Those were good things, and she felt a way about them.

The glow didn't light.  

Why not?  Those had made her feel things.  She felt things.  Things for Link.  She took another breath and pushed into less appropriate territory, of the way he'd wrapped around her back the night before and let his hands wander until she was moaning with abandon and glowing, burning.

"You got it?"  His hands came to rest on her hips, and her eyes popped open as she lit up.

Goddess, she hated that he could do that. She batted the thought away, and held tighter to her lust.  Goddess, she liked his hands on her.

He looked taken aback, almost awed.  Even though he was expecting it.  Even though he'd seen it dozens of times now.  

Part of why she needed to get her face under control was that it affected Link so.

He swallowed hard.  "Close your eyes.  Let's see if that...oh."  His voice turned rough.  "Oh, that's so much worse."

He pulled her in at the waist and kissed her desperately.

#

Link made himself scarce as she wrote up her field notes.  She had very little to write.  She'd made very little progress.

In frustration, she tossed her journal away.  She would just have to have Link come touch her when he was done battling Ganon.  Maybe he could magically poke her with his index finger as if she were the Sheikah slate.  And they most likely would evacuate the area, so it wouldn't matter if she had on her come-hither face.  Link would just have to deal with not making out with her for however long it took to seal the Calamity away.  And who cared if she made a face?  If making a face saved the world, no one would be allowed to say anything.

Except Zelda cared.  She didn't want to look ridiculous, and she didn't want to rely on Link to access her own powers.  She glared at her journal.

Where was Link anyway?

She stomped off to go glare at him.  Or go have him be gentle and compassionate until she had too much trouble holding onto her irritation.

She found him before the Goddess statue, his head bowed, the sword drawn with its tip resting against the ground.

She frowned harder.  "Are you praying?" she asked.

He startled and spun around.  "Oh.  Yeah.  Um.  You haven't been praying lately, so I've had to...pray by myself."

An old, familiar hurt settled over her. Of course he was on such good terms with the Goddess, when she was...she was...

She was working on her relationship with the Goddess.  She understood that maybe it was all a big misunderstanding, but that didn't mean it didn't still hurt, and it didn't mean she wasn't still upset that she couldn't fully access her powers without the help of someone the Goddess liked.

Link looked nervous, as if he knew she was about to shout at him again.  Guilt lanced at her stomach.  She lowered her eyes and stepped near him.  

"What do you pray for?" she asked quietly.

"Um.  Nothing?"

She snorted.  "You pray for me."

He didn't say anything, which confirmed it.

"Show me," she said.  She turned him back to face the Goddess, and slipped her way into his arms, her back to his chest.  She placed her hands over his as they planted the sword to the ground.

He held himself stiff with discomfort, but then relaxed his arms under hers and lowered his head.  "Close your eyes," he murmured.  

Well, this was her idea.  She closed her eyes and lowered her head.

"I pray for you to have some guidance," he said.  "Because you desperately want to please her, and you want to do it right, but all you have to go on are rumors and what you're ordered to do by people who don't know what they're doing either.  I pray for some sign that you're on the right path.  Not because I want to know, because I know you'll get there.  But for you.  You need assurance or your self-doubt eats at you, and there's no way that self-doubt will save Hyrule.

"And I pray for you to be happy.  Because you're beautiful when you're sad and you're beautiful when you're angry, but I would die to see you smile.  To hear you laugh.  The way you carry yourself when you're at ease, the excited way you talk when you catch onto something new.  That light in you could light the whole world.  It could burn away the Calamity."

"You're a charmer," she murmured.

"You're a peach."

She snorted.  "You don't pray like I do."

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't tell the Goddess all that."

"Why not?"

Why not?  "Because she already knows?"

"But maybe she wants to hear you say it."

"She wants me to wax poetic about a girl?" she teased.

"Wax poetic about what you love."

"Love is a strong word."

"And you're asking for a powerful weapon."

Her eyebrows furrowed.  In a small voice she asked, "What should I pray for?"

He thought for a moment.  "Why do you want to save Hyrule?"

"Because it's my--" 

Duty.

She startled.  The answer had rolled off her tongue.

Anxiety she couldn't name clawed at her chest.  She shifted uncomfortably.  Maybe standing like this had been a bad idea.

"She'd like to hear you say it."

Her breath shook.  "I want to save my people.  My friends.  Urbosa and Revali and Mipha and Daruk.  They're so devoted and encouraging.  If they fell, then their people would suffer.  All the brilliance of our people would falter, all compassion and the triumphs.  The wonderful art and music and literature--"

"Even the bad literature."

"Especially the bad literature!  And the bad music!  All the ridiculous rumors, and the guards who devour those rumors, and all the fake girlfriends out there.  We would lose all of that!  And as shameful as it is, I would fight for those things."

"What else would you fighting for?"

"The Sheikah technology.  You don't know the victory you feel when two pieces snap together.  The thrill when a guardian lights blue under my hands.  The way Robbie nods along when I ramble and then picks up my thoughts and runs with them, taking them somewhere new, and the I can pick them up again and run farther.  The way Purah grabs my arm the moment I walk into the lab.  The way she drags me to a diagram and asks my opinion.  As if I'm wanted!  As if I'm needed!"

The sword flared under her hands, a ringing note at the base of her skull, and her eyes flew open at the call for attention.

She was glowing.  A warm pressure burned in her chest, and she grabbed hold of it to maintain it.

"What--"

"Things you care for," Link murmured.

She turned her head to look at him in surprise and confusion.

The corner of his mouth quirked.  "You're not making the face."

"How long have I been glowing?"

"Since you declared your love for trashy novels."

"Love is a strong word."

He shook his head and laughed under his breath. 

"But,” she said, “I need a strong weapon.”

His eyes darkened.  “You’re making the face again.”

When she kissed him, it was bright and sharp as the sun.

[spenciegoob]

Pathetic and Tragic

Summary: It’s been years since the BAU has tried to catch this unsub, so when Spencer figures out where she is, why did he feel the need to go alone?

Pairing: Spencer x Fem Unsub!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: mentions of murder/blood, slight bondage, hair pulling, choking, gagging, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, slight degradation

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: Hi! This is for a contest by @spenciebabie and I’ve chosen the one-shot prompt why don't you make me? 

Masterlist

____

The case was never supposed to last this long. Spencer knew that, Hell, the whole BAU knew that. A woman with ties to the highest degree of one of the most infamous organized crime families should have been the FBI’s top priority, and for a very long time, she was.

Then the case got complicated, and while Spencer’s mind clouded with an unbearable lust for a woman that would take his life with zero hesitation, the team lost one of their greatest players.

It was tragic in every sense of the word, the way Spencer’s mind replayed their first interaction, his lips feeling her breath on him after all this time, and the bullet that always rested in his bag.

He felt pathetic in that moment, letting her take control of his morals with her vice like grip on his mind, body and soul.

“FBI, freeze. Don’t move.” Finally, the BAU had found who they were looking for since her first appearance on their radar 8 months ago. More importantly, Spencer caught her trying to flee a scene she had no business being at. She looked so out of place, the blood and gore that laid a trail to her small, almost fragile figure making Spencer believe for a split second that she couldn’t have possibly done this.

But time moves quickly, and the second fleeted when she turned around to flash a wicked smile his way.

And Spencer Reid was the one who froze instead.

“Doctor,” she greeted with the utmost of poise and delicacy. “I do believe I have a job to do, so I’m sorry to inform you that I cannot follow your request at this time.”

She was taunting him, and Spencer would fall into that trap again and again if it meant her eyes remained on his.

But this was a criminal, a murderer, a sociopath, and he will not lose his footing this time. Not even for a flawless god-like woman.

“Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for the murder of Tristen Kepler, Michael Gerdinski and Harold Bennet.” Spencer’s voice was slowly losing its confidence as her face turned from one of pure hilarity to confusion.

“Is that all? You might be missing a few names.” She was proud of her work, it was insufferable. Spencer’s anger level was slowly rising, and if she continued to dance circles around his mind, the task at hand being forgotten, it was going to get dangerously high.

“You won’t shoot me, Dr. Reid,” she continued as she took a step towards him, the grip on his gun tightened.

“How do you know?” Spencer’s voice shook with the same uncertainty as his finger shaking over the trigger. She was right, he wasn’t going to shoot her, but Spencer couldn’t confirm the thoughts of a narcissist.

“Because,” another step. “I’m unarmed, and you, Spencer Reid,” another step. “Are a man of morals and righteousness, and justice.” She spit the last word with so much venom that the story behind her rage could have been the world’s most tragic villain arc.

The whole case was quite tragic.

“Don’t take another step.” Spencer was easily a foot taller than her, and with one scan could tell he weighed twice as much as her, but she still found a way to make his blood run cold with both fear and excitement.

“Or what?”

Spencer could’ve sworn he only blinked and she was directly in front of him, but that wasn’t entirely the truth. She had laid a fog over his mind, taking away his intelligence and peeling back every layer of his mind so only the thought of lowering his weapon in favor of getting on her good side remained.

She was challenging him to do something, but instead of the snake charmer charming the snake, she charmed him.

Spencer must have been hallucinating on the high of being closer to her now, but he could’ve sworn the crime scene they were in was starting to grow the same vines in the Garden of Eden, because there she stood handing Spencer an apple.

Like Eve, Spencer took it.

The second his gun lowered slightly, she pounced. She had him disarmed and on his back before he had time to process the feeling of her skin on his. If the impact to the ground didn’t knock the wind out of Spencer, her close proximity would.

She had a heel digging into his wrist closest to his gun that was only inches away, taunting him for his pathetic lust. Slowly, she bent down, entering the fog, black smoke mixing with his innocent, white cloud to create a gray that he wouldn’t dare call dull.

“I’m sorry it has to be like this, Spencer. Truly, I am.” Her eyes left his to scan his face before she reached over to his gun. The thought crossed his mind that she was going to kill him, but would that be so bad when he was breathing the same air as her?

She emptied the chamber into her hands, only leaving one bullet. He walked this road before, he knew his chances.

“One bullet, one chance.” She spun the chamber before slamming it back in place. “God, I really hope you live.”

For a split second, they shared a gaze clouded with desire for the other. Spencer let his mind fade into what her lips would feel like against his, or how her body would tremble under his. She had control now, but he knew from the way her eyes begged, even just for one second, she wanted him to flip the roles and take her right there. He would’ve too if it wasn’t for the cool metal that pressed against the side of his head.

Click!

An empty threat, yet she still smirked. “Today’s your lucky day, Doctor.”

She looked up to where a single headlight shone through the window above them, her hair trickling down to brush against Spencer’s neck, and he sighed at the small contact. It was pathetic, really.

“That’s my ride. See you around.” With that, she winked and ran off towards her getaway. Spencer laid there, taking in shallow breaths that escaped him during their interaction.

She had been stalling him, and he fell for it.

Spencer still carried around that bullet as a reminder. A reminder that he needs to catch her, she was too dangerous, and anything less than her being imprisoned for life wasn’t good enough. 

It was also a reminder of how he felt when she was with him, over him, dominating him. Spencer never felt that helpless, that pathetic, that hungry for someone, and he wasn’t ready to let that go quite yet.

There was no new case that came in this week, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep that nagging feeling at bay when it came to her this case. They needed to shut it, Spencer needed to shut it, because maybe, just maybe, he could sleep better at night knowing he won.

“Delivery for Dr. Spencer Reid,” a voice called from the entrance of the bullpen. Spencer’s head shot around, finding a very harmless looking intern holding a small package in his hand looking around.

Cutting the kid some slack, he made his way over. “I’m Dr. Reid.” The kid smiled before handing him the little cardboard box. It fit in the palm of his hand, and was completely blank except for the small drawing of a snake on the top.

His blood ran cold, and his lungs forgot how to breath, just like they did a year ago.

A year ago today.

Spencer didn’t wait any longer, ripping the box open despite the strong glue that held it shut with its secrets.

Oh Spencer, hasn’t anyone told you not to open Pandora’s box?

The bullet inside rattled around the small container, one of the bullets that belonged to Spencer before she took them for her trophies.

She may have not killed Spencer, but she definitely took something more than just bullets with her that night.

He knew where she was, and she wanted him to.

Spencer could’ve told his team, hell, he was going to need the backup, so what stopped him from doing so as he raced for the crime scene that has since been cleared and reopened for the public to ignore the ‘No Trespassing’ sign?

Lust, lust is what stopped him, and it was pathetic.

Pathetic and tragic.

She knew he arrived, even if he turned the lights of the SUV off before pulling up the small warehouse. The air around her grew heavier with anticipation as she waited for Spencer to enter the room, no doubt waiting for the element of surprise.

She almost missed his light footsteps approaching her from behind.

“You’ve changed,” she called out. Spencer froze again, just like he had the first time. Was this pathetic enough?

“So have you,” his voice was calm, not caring for tiptoeing anymore. She was right, Spencer had changed, and now he took very little chances with instability.

“Yet here we are, repeating the same cycle as last year.” She turned to face him, and if she was less of a professional, she would have let her hunger for Spencer shine through. He had definitely changed, his hair was longer now, but still beautifully curly and framing his face, the one that was sharper, stubble on his cheeks. 

Spencer was a man now, one she wanted to strip down to nothing both physically and emotionally.

“That’s not entirely true,” he shot back with a sense of cockiness to his tone, cockiness she had no patience for. “I’m not letting you go this time.”

She snorted, actually snorted in his face. “You cannot be serious. You think I would lead you to me just to turn myself in?”

“You’re coming with me, whether you want to or not.” There was no room for argument, but she had other plans. She saw the lust in his eyes a year ago, and though time passed, that passion when he was looking at her still hasn’t faded. She just needed to push his buttons a little bit.

“Why don’t you make me?” It was the final straw, the last drop of water before the dam broke, and Spencer made no effort to stop himself from taking her head in his hands and smashing their lips together in both anger and desire.

She moaned against his mouth, wrapping her hands around his neck to find their place in his hair. Spencer had other plans, because he grabbed both of her wrists before turning her around and bending her over the metal table behind them.

“Listen, Princess,” Spencer whispered into her ear, his lips grazing the shell as he bent his whole body over her to press her further. The cool metal was digging into her hips, but she couldn’t complain when it also meant she felt Spencer’s hard erection on her backside. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, and then I’m going to take you in where you’ll rot in prison for the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

“Only one of us is getting ruined today, and it’s not me.” Apparently, that was not the answer Spencer wanted, because he grabbed a fistful of her hair to pull her back against his chest, making her gasp and squirm against his strong frame.

“Watch the attitude,” he growled out before reaching down with his other hand to unbutton her black jeans. “Now let’s try that again. Do you understand me?”

She only responded in a whimper as Spencer’s hands reached inside both her pants and panties to run his fingers through her slick folds.

“Use your words, Princess.” She tried to grind down on his fingers, but Spencer was quick to remove them from her pants. Bringing his hand up to her neck, he wrapped it around before squeezing lightly. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes, I understand. Just please, Spencer.” She never would have thought that the awestruck doctor she wooed a year ago would be so rough with her, and the surprise just added to her need for him.

“Please what, Princess?” Spencer taunted.

“Just do something,” she barked back, immediately regretting her decision when he let go of her neck to push her by her head back onto the table with more force than necessary.

When she heard the click of his handcuffs, she started her relentless squirming. “What the hell, Spencer? I thought you were going to fucking do something!”

“Who said I wasn't?” He asked before completely ripping her pants down her legs, the cool air hitting her bare pussy, causing a shiver to run up her spine.

So this was the game Spencer’s playing.

“God, you’re already so fucking wet, Princess. Wanna taste you.” He gave her no time to register his words because Spencer dropped to his knees and licked a strip up and then down her folds, flicking her clit before taking in completely in his mouth.

Her mewls and groans bounced off the concrete walls around them, only urging Spencer on more. He suckled softly on her clit before flicking it back and forth repeatedly with his tongue at an incomprehensible pace. The knot in her stomach was forming, and at this rate, it was going to unravel fast.

“Spe-Spence I.. I’m g-gonna” Spencer brought his fingers up to her core, replacing his tongue with two slender digits.

“Do it, Princess. Come for me.” He pinched her clit roughly, and that was the final push over the edge, her moans loud consisting of incoherent curses and his name.

When she started to come down from her high, Spencer stood straight up again and started unbuckling his belt. She started to squirm and push back into him at his slow movements.

“I know you’re probably enjoying watching me struggle, but if you could please hurry the fuck up,” she said as she lifted part of her upper body to turn and look at him. She never got a good look, because Spencer reached out and slammed her back down before pushing all of himself into her waiting cunt.

She yelled out at the sensation, Spencer groaning before saying, “What did I tell you about that fucking attitude?”

He set a brutal pace, giving her barely any time to adjust before pulling out so just the tip remained, and then slamming into her with a rough, animalistic force.

“Ah, ah, ah, Sp- Spenc-” He grabbed her by the hair again, using it as leverage to pull her back onto his cock, making her scream out again.

“Shut up,” Spencer groaned out, annunciating each word with a thrust while he reached forward to shove two fingers into her mouth. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

She moaned around his fingers, causing him to press down on her tongue, gagging her. Spencer could feel the way she started to clench around him.

“You gonna cum, Princess? That’s it, cum with me.” Spencer’s thrusts grew sloppier as they both ran towards their orgasm together.

When they both finally reached their high, Spencer could’ve sworn he saw stars, his cock twitching in her pulsing warmth, milking him of everything. For a split second, their bodies had become one.

But time moves quickly, and the second fleeted when his actions caught up to him, and he ripped himself from her.

She was still shaking and trying to catch her breath when he undid the handcuffs that were burning her wrists. Confusion spread through her as she used her arms that still felt like jelly to push herself up off the table.

“Why... why’d you uncuff me?” Spencer looked up through his eyelashes at her from where he was redoing his belt, his face unreadable.

“Get dressed. I can’t arrest you half naked.” He looked away from her with a blush on his face as she bent down to pull her pants back up. When she looked back up at him from where he was trying to see from his peripherals if she was dressed again, she caught a glimpse of the man she met a year ago.

“That’s not the reason, Doctor. If you have a question, ask it.”

“Why’d you stop?” Spencer finally turned to face her, catching the surprise on her face before it morphed into that same wicked smile that rendered him helpless last time.

“Would you have come if I kept killing?” He didn’t have to think about his answer, it was the reason he was hoping was true.

“No.” She slowly stalked over to him, but this time she didn’t flip him on his back. Instead, she cupped his cheek, and he didn't hesitate to nuzzle into her palm.

“I still have 4 bullets,” she said softly. They locked eyes again, but this time, the lust they indulged in melted down to a mutual understanding.

“I’ll see you next year, Doctor.” With that, she walked around him, shutting the door with a slam on the way out, leaving Spencer staring at the silver with no attempt to chase after her.

Pathetic and tragic.

____

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[seesgood]

can we very gently talk about call out posts / culture really quick?  not in a judgmental way, but in like a: i just want to pose a thought and explain why i’m never going to buy into it and why i wish it would become less of a trend instead of more of one? and i’ll add the  disclaimer  here: i totally get not wanting certain people around you for various reasons, that is all your prerogative. that’s your comfort level. but in emphasizing “your blog should be a safe space” we’re kind’ve losing sight of the fact that the rpc should also be a safe space, and as much as your comfort and safety matter, so do other people’s. and not just the person who hurt you, but the third parties and other mutuals and 99.9% of people who are not at all involved in any way in whatever happened. so, anyway here goes, read it or don’t, we all have different opinions or reasons, i just want to be heard:

people are allowed to change.  think back to who you were last year. two years ago. think about the stuff you said when you were seventeen, or twenty-one, or hell whatever age you were. current-you would probably cringe at the kind of stuff past-you had to say. because you grew. you learned. you had life experiences. in hindsight you have the freedom to be like “oof yeah that was not the best version of myself right there damn i don’t want to be like that again.” the growing trend of ‘here’s a 10+ page google doc complete with out of context screenshots that sometimes date back to like 2017 or earlier’ makes this kind of change impossible. because right there, you’ve just frozen a person in time, probably not at their best, removed any and all amounts of context, and put it on the internet and let other people judge it for themselves. 

so that leads into another point that i want to just kinda present to the community at large: the act of documenting behaviors and storing them for months / years at a time, in itself creates a super unsafe environment, not just for you, your friends, the people who have hurt you --- but also for anyone else that isn’t at all involved in whatever happened. like, for example, i like to think that i’m a pretty nice person. i actively try to be a nice person. am i sometimes not having the best day? have people definitely caught me in bad moments? oh hell yeah. but am i, as someone who tries really hard to be nice and welcoming, constantly thinking through every message i send to someone knowing that a) i could have a reputation that makes them read into context that isn’t there and that could contribute to them misinterpreting words i meant in a different way, b) very aware that every post i make, ask i send, message i send can at any moment be screenshotted and posted and taken out of context and either serve as someone’s only opinion of me or pile on to someone’s existing opinion of me? yeah. so in my experience, and based on people i’ve talked to, we now have this thing where you can be surface-friends wtih a lot of people, but if you want to survive in the tumblr rpc you should really only have 2-3 people that you really trust that you can actually talk about shit with. 

and lately i’ve been seeing a resurgence of posts on my dash about like “bring back xyz in the rpc” or “the reason the rpc is like this is because of xyz” and i both agree and disagree with a lot of this, but primarily i think the reason the rpc is Off lately is because everyone and their cousin has a DNI, which is --- again --- your decision and i understand and respect that, but while you know the context of every name on that DNI, other people don’t. and to be honest: other people don’t really care and honestly maybe they shouldn’t care. --- and don’t get me wrong, your friends should care if someone has hurt you. that’s important. but joe billy bob who just wants to write their character with yours is going to read through your rules, they’re going to see “do not interact with me if you follow with or interact with these people you’ve never heard of and if you want me to tell you why just message me” (which no one is ever going to do, i’m sorry to say). and say, joe billy bob also followed that other person because they were like ‘omg this blog looks cool’ --- now joe billy bob, who just wants to write cool plots, is suddenly the middle-man in some type of drama that they do not understand, and maybe they’re able to remove themselves from the situation, but even then it’s still in the back of your mind. 

this is getting long. it’ll be longer, but let’s take a brief break for me to remind you that in some cases, it’s definitely good to give your mutuals and friends a heads up when someone has done something really, really bad. like, remember x amount of years ago when some dude was like ‘i’m gonna make up a new person and say they died by suicide as a social experiment’ or ‘hey this person actively tries to force very triggering plots about abuse / rape / incest onto people and has been doing so for years and does not seem to change their ways no matter how many people try to educate them’ that’s shit people should probably know about. and it’s also okay ( in my opinion ) for your friends to be able to message you like ‘hey i saw you’re writing with x and i just wanted to let you know i had this experience with them’ if that’s something they feel comfortable doing. and if they are comfortable with you still having the autonomy to make your own decision regarding the person. 

i’ll be honest, for a second: i’ve been part of friendships and groups that have turned really toxic for one reason or another. a handful of times. there are probably people out there that are like “yeah this chick is really fake and manipulative and etc, i was friends with her back in 2019″ which, okay. yeah. i’ve definitely done shit and said shit that was not the most representative of who i want to be and who i want to become, and you probably have to. because we are human beings and we are a product of our social groups and the community around us. and you shouldn’t be chained to a version of you that isn’t you anymore. people change. they grow. you don’t have to like them, but you should respect that sometimes people don’t mesh, and that doesn’t mean any of them are bad people, it just means the experience was bad. 

a few additional notes i would like to make but i’ve already gone on way too long:

90% of the callout posts that i’ve seen and the DNI’s that i’ve seen can, in my opinion, be classified as a friend group thing. you were friends with x, x did something, now y and z aren’t friends with x anymore. pain is a very, very real thing and people hurting you should never be minimized, but at some point i just want you to remember that not every friendship is going to end happily, but both you and the other party should be allowed to move on and grow better, healthier friendships after. rehashing Friend Group Gone Wrong instances removes that ability for not only person x, but also person y and z.

you putting out a callout says just as much ( maybe more ) about you than it does about the other person. which sucks. because i’d like to think we all have great intentions, and i’m not saying that you should swallow your pain, but it might not be the kind of thing that impacts the community at large, and maybe you should try to find a better way of working through it with a trusted friend(s)

i’m going to be very real and very blunt on this one: literally no one cares. i say that with love. i’m good friends with people who have each other on their DNI’s. establish a baseline of respect and ‘i’m not going to say anything to them about you and vice versa because there’s no need for me to do so’ and move on. but seriously. no one cares. most outside people read callout posts because they like being in the know about the drama, not because they actually care. 

person a and person b who are mentioned in the DNI / callout aren’t the only ones who are going to be affected. your friends, your mutuals, your writing partners are now all put in a weird spot where you have to pick sides on an issue you know nothing about and shouldn’t have to know anything about. you’re asking people to choose sides on an issue they cannot fully understand, and that’s not fair to them or to you. and it drives great people away. and then we all lose out on having more awesome people in the rpc.

you’re entitled to your safe space, but this is a public platform and you are also responsible for maintaining your safe space. you shouldn’t put it entirely on other people to do that for you. you can block, blacklist, make up funny names for, or spitefully erase from your many anything and anyone that you wish. but you shouldn’t make your friends do it for you.

there’s always an inherent power imbalance when any kind of drama occurs between those who have more followers / friends / connections and those who do not. and the smaller blog is always going to suffer a little bit more because they don’t have people blindly coming to their defense. 

bad moments, bad experiences, bad decisions DO NOT equal bad people. 

allow people to make up their own mind about something or someone

anywho, if you read through this whole thing i think i owe you financial compensation. but also thank you for reading / listening / considering. even if you rolled your eyes through the whole thing like “stfu lia” that’s fine. i’m just presenting an alternative thought. i’d like to once again state: i’m not judging you if you’ve made a callout/DNI or if you’re on a callout/DNI. like i literally don’t care. and frankly, in my opinion, i shouldn’t have to. because i, and you, and your friends, and your mutuals, and your non-mutuals should be allowed the space to make up their own opinion and mind on something or someone without being told that there will be consequences if they don’t agree with you. set boundaries. communicate in healthy ways. you don’t have to forgive the people who have hurt or wronged you, but you also don’t get to decide that their actions make up 100% of who they are as a person, or decide that that is the only side of that person people should get to see. 

[quirklessidiot]

Title: filthy rich [1/3] Pairing: millionare!sakusa kiyoomi x y/n [filthy capitalist au] Genre: romance, major angst ahead ,fluff, yandere!au-ish 

Synopsis: Your luck had just run out when you realized that you flirted with danger. [400 followers special]

Warnings: language and none...yet….[although i will put a trigger warning that is a controlling, abusive, and kind of a yandere relationship] Notes: 

Happy 460 followers i- look, i know i promised a long kita fanfic but i got more inspired to finish this and write this one because djjdjdjd ,,, anyways this was originally a kpop fanfic i wrote years ago and i switched it up to an omi fanfic. I don’t condone this type of relationship, if ya see this shit on your partner, please run (i beg of you)

also eheh the remaining two requests will be posted soon so uwu

next  ||  series masterlist || taglist 

“Hey Y/N.”

You look up from your medical textbook to find your aunt standing there with an expensive freshly pressed suit on her hand wrapped in plastic, you had been living with her along with her two younger kids in Tokyo after your parents decided to become humanitarian doctors. Wanting to explore and get out of your comfort zone, you ended up living in the big city along with your mother’s closest friend.

“Oh, hey obaasan.” you greeted, “What’s up?”

“Ah, you see, Shoyo is out now and no one will be able to deliver the suit to Sakusa-san, would you mind doing me a favor and delivering it for me?”

You shut your textbook and stood up from your chair, “Sure, uh- could I have his address?” you ask as you took the suit in plastic carefully from her hands, not wanting to damage something that cost as expensive as your tuition in med school. After saying goodbye to your aunt and carefully placing the suit at the back of your car, you drove your way to the upstate part of the city.

Your second hand car stood out like a sore thumb in the lane of expensive and flashy cars, you wanted to waltz in and out of here quickly. Following your aunt’s instruction’s, you march up to the front desk to hand the suit over to the receptionist, “I’m here to drop the laundry for Sakusa-sa-”

Before you could even finish your sentence, she snatched it away from your grasp. You narrow your eyes at her rather uncouth attitude, “Oh, cool...thanks…” you murmur, not wanting to cause a scene or pick a fight with the rude woman, you made a b-line towards the exit. Away from the judging and prying eyes of the people who were very much above you in terms of class and wealth.

The moment you step out though, you watch in horror as your car is being towed away, “Hey!” you exclaimed, hurriedly going to the worker who was writing something down on his clipboard, “Hey, wait! Please, excuse me?”

The worker turned to you with a questioning gaze as you immediately started to explain that you were in and out of the place and that you were just delivering some laundry but all you got was a shake in the head and the words, “It’s not up to me, that guy called us in.” He points his ballpen towards the man in a suit and paired with a surgical white mask on the phone, “...The parking here is for residents only and clearly you’re not one of them.” 

Your eyes almost widened at his explanation, just what was wrong with people who lived here?

You fumingly grab the piece of paper he hands to you and stuff it in your pocket as you march up to the stranger on the phone, “Hey, excuse me!” you proclaimed, there were a few on-lookers but you ignored them, you were seeing red with the treatment you’ve been receiving here. The raven-haired stranger ignores you, still on his phone so you call him out again and when you do, the darkest pair of obsidian eyes are on you.

You clenched your fists tightly as the quote ‘eat the rich’ comes into your head.

“There must be some mistake.” You began slowly, trying to put your anger at bay because you didn’t want the whole thing to escalate in public, “I’m in and out here, all i did was deliver and I didn't know-”

“Your ignorance doesn’t excuse you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ignorance of the law excuses no one.” He simply states, “Also the car was on the way in my space and not even a parking spot.”

You let out a loud, sardonic laugh, “I’d be gone in two minutes if you waited.”

“You would’ve wasted my two minutes.” 

You clenched your fist tightly and as you were about to bite back on his snide remark, the receptionist from before intervenes, “Excuse me, he’s right. You aren’t allowed to park here.” she tries to look professional but you know she’s just siding with this idiot since he had the money.

“Right.” you nod, “You know what, fuck it, this blows. All I did was my job and I have to be shitted on because I don’t have money like Mr.fancy-pants over here.” You bellowed,your glare was intense as you turned around, stomping away before you would do anything you’d regret.

The stranger’s eyes towards you do not waver though, how interesting, he thought.

You never wanted to return to that place again, not only did you lose a lot of money to pay your toll fee for your car but you needed to buy a bunch of new books for the new semester. You groan out loud as you also realize that you needed to do a grocery run since all you had were empty packets of instant Ramen and water in your apartment.

Chunking the cue cards to the side, you made your way to the convenience store, the city was definitely alive tonight and amidst that, you look absolutely dead tired. Your eye bags were getting thicker, a few zits had popped out, and you had grown thin in an unhealthy way because of your food consumption.

Man, being in med school and being dumb wasn’t a very good combination.

Your thoughts are interrupted when your aunt calls you again and says you have to do deliveries tonight, “You remember Sakusa-san?” your aunt says on the other line.

You couldn’t help but grimace at the mention of the man and the memories of where he lived.

Man, did this Sakusa-san needed new neighbors.

“What does he need a suit for in this unholy hour?” You mentally groaned.

“He needs it for laundry, you can have the money when you pick it up.”

Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of cash, you decided to take public transportation since you didn’t want to risk getting your car toll away by that Sakusa guy’s wretched fancy-pants neighbor. Grocery shopping could wait another time, “Stupid rich people.” You muttered under your breath as you pushed open the entrance to find the same man who you despised, sitting there with a laundry basket next to him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You mumbled, sucking in a deep breath, you say, “Sakusa-san?”

“So I was right.” he says, pulling down his mask to reveal his sharp features, “You were the one who delivered my suit that day. It’s usually a young boy with a bike.”

Boy, this man was definitely at his prime, he was probably a good few years older than you and you bet he had the ladies swinging left and right with that face. Too bad he had a shitty attitude though.

“Well, that doesn’t give you an excuse to tow my car away.” you deadpan.

“How much do I owe you for the unfortunate accident then?” his tone was rich and low but you detected no remorse in it, it was as if waving huge chunks of money would help tremendously. The asshole couldn’t even properly say sorry to you because of the hard time you had to go through that time.

“None,” you scoffed, “Just hand me your laundry and pay the fee, we’ll call it even.”

The raven-haired man tilts his head and carefully hands you the laundry bag along with a wad of cash, your eyes immediately widen out of character, “Woah, wait-”

“For the troubles.” He simply replies, “Goodnight.”

You later found out that his full name was Sakusa Kiyoomi and not only was he rich, he was filthy rich. The man used to be a big volleyball player back or something when he was in high school and college but instead of becoming a pro player, he had inherited the family business.

“Huh, so he was a capitalist.” You stare at his picture at the morning paper which was coincidentally an article about him. You decided to forget about it, expecting to not see him after that night since Hinata had no classes or practices these upcoming weeks yet weirdly enough, he started to ask for you to pick up his laundry instead.

So you both fell into a strange routine, you’d pick up his laundry and return it the next day. He was also there to pick up his things and you no longer needed to talk to the rude receptionist. You were suspicious of him yet you decided to just overlook it, he gave good tips and he wasn’t as rude as the first time you met him, in fact, he made small conversations now and you sort of got to know the man.

You had a weird dynamic but strangely enough, it worked.

“L/N-san.” 

“Good evening,” You greeted per usual, holding out your hand yet his eyes squinted at the bandage on your hand.

“What happened.” the raven-haired man asked, his gaze zeroing on the wound that you got in one of your classes.

“I’m a med student...I cut myself instead of the cadaver in class.” you shrug nonchalantly as you wiggle your fingers, “It’s alright though, I’m not going to stain your suit that you keep putting back to the laundry for some odd reason.”

“You got hurt.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

Sakusa mutters something incoherent under his breath before saying, “I’ll take you to your car.”

“Woah there-”

The man ignores you as he walks ahead of you, this was certainly getting out of character, even for him who always asked for you, “Open it.” He orders as he points to the car door, you begrudgingly obliged and did as he said. He places the laundry inside and turns to you to give you his usual pay, “Take care of yourself next time, L/N-san.”

The very next day, your aunt hands you an expensive package of ointments on your doorstep. Your brows are furrowed together in confusion as she says that they’re from the millionaire himself. You pointedly look at the package in front of you, completely lost as to why someone like him would send something like this to the person who he wasn’t exactly close with.

“Y/N-saaaaan…” Hinata drowns, you snap your gaze from your notes to the young orange-haired boy, “I’ve got news!”

You had stopped working for your aunt since you found a job at your university’s library, not only were the hours more lax but they even minus some of the tuition as long as you worked there. It was definitely a win-win situation for you.

“What’s up, orange?” You asked.

“Remember Sakusa-san?”

You hum a reply, “What about him?”

“I think he likes you.”

You almost choke on your saliva when you heard that, this little brat, why you ought to-

“He looked really disappointed when I said that you didn’t work for us anymore.” Hinata explains, cutting your thoughts short, 

“Right.” You drawl, shaking your head, “Maybe you were just hard to look at, that’s why.”

“Hey!” He clenched his fists together and pouted at your tone, “I don’t even know why he likes you!”

You feel a vein pop in his forehead as you hear his insult,  you proceeded to chunk a pillow to his direction in which he successfully dodged, “Get your facts straight and I assure you, he doesn’t like me.” you grumbled, returning to your books.

Ultimately, you thought that you’d never see Sakusa Kiyoomi ever again. It was fairly obvious that outside your job, someone of high caliber as him was someone you’d never see again yet you're immediately thrown off guard when you find him standing there around your campus.

Your eyes widen in surprise, well what do you know? it was the devil himself.

“Sakusa-san.”

“L/N-san.”

Man, you may not have seen him for a month or two but despite wearing the mask, you could tell that  e still sported the same blank and basic bitch face behind it. Hinata was wrong in all ways, this guy wouldn’t like you, he’d probably deem you too low class for him, “What a surprise, it’s been a while.” You stiffly bowed down.

“You’re acting weird.” 

You raise your gaze to meet his and you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“You’re most likely a guest in the university.” You mumbled, scratching your head, “People might come at me if I treated you as casually as before.”

Sakusa raises his brow, “That’s funny coming from someone who was this close to punching me during our first meeting.”

“You were being a dick that time.”

“How you have guts to say that to my face amazes me every time.”

“Oh yeah?” You chortled, amused by his statement, “I’m starting to think you’ve taken a liking on me.”

“Was it not obvious when I kept asking for you from Hinata-san?”

You immediately choke on the coffee you were sipping, burning your tongue in the process, “Okay what the hell, sakusa-san-” you said in between coughs.

Your freeze up when you look at him dead in the eye, his eyes crinkling, was he smiling behind the mask? No way, the Sakusa Kiyoomi was smiling at you? He pulls down his mask and bends down, making you retract your steps and your cheeks flush to a brightly red color, “You’re turning red.” he points out loud and that makes you turn even redder.

“You’re acting weird.”

“You were getting dense.” 

“How was I supposed to know...to know that…” You try to stutter out, completely embarrassed.

“To know what?” 

“You know what.” You grumbled, standing up a bit straighter and ignoring his teasing tone, “I’m not interested in you.”

“Your red cheeks say otherwise.”

“It’s the cold weather.” You harshly replied, looking away again, trying to avoid his gaze, “I’m not interested in a boyfriend, a flirting partner, or whatever that is. So good day!” 

You immediately stomp away, leaving Sakusa Kiyoomi with an amused smirk. How entertaining and adorable, you looked like a bunny. His cute bunny.

A few days had passed from that little interaction and you wanted to hurl yourself out the window whenever you thought about it. Sakusa Kiyoomi? The filthy rich capitalist Sakusa Kiyoomi? Interested in you? What kind of k-drama was this?

You tried to avoid going out much in the campus, Apparently he was around after he donated half a million to the medicine department.

You immediately groaned out loud at the thought, there was in no way that all this was possible!

“L/N-san.”

You immediately jump on the spot and drop your keys, “Holy fucking-” You pause, biting back your tongue, there he stood sporting a casual attire instead of a business suit and his usual face mask,  “Sakusa-san?”

“Kiyoomi.” He smoothly corrects.

“Nice. Very nice.” You dryly replied, “Heard you donated half a million and some new equipment to our department. Sweet.”

“You don’t look that happy.”

“I mean you basically confessed that you were interested then decided to donate to my department only.” You narrow your eyes suspiciously, “You remind me of a sugar daddy.”

“Well,” He shrugged, “You didn’t exactly deny that you wanted one.”

Your brain immediately short-circuits as you try to stutter out a reply, Sakusa looked like he’d been having a field day. Gone was the fiery girl he met a few months ago, he really knew what to say to reduce you to a stuttering mess.

“I’m kidding, L/N-san.” he deadpanned when he realized that you weren’t giving him a straight answer since your mind was jumbled up, “It was purely coincidental, we’ve been eyeing certain medicine departments and yours was performing top-notch. It doesn’t mean that I’m any less interested in taking you out.”

“You do know I’m poor right…” You sweatdrop, “I could easily take advantage of you-”

“One date, L/N-san…” he says, ignoring your very weak argument, “Just one then I’ll let you go.”

You don’t know why but you ended up saying yes that day.

You didn’t know what to expect on your first date and you had your fingers cross the whole time that he wouldn’t take you to an expensive michelin star restaurant since you didn’t have the clothes for the place.

Thankfully, the date was more casual than you expected, it was in his home and he had  cooked the meal himself.

“You’re looking oddly relieved.”

“I can’t function well in expensive restaurants.” You sweatdrop, covering your awkwardness with a laugh. You’ve never gone on dates before, the idea of being intimate with someone had made you feel awkward and bothered. 

“I’m not a big fan of public areas so I assure you we're not going on those anytime soon.” 

“Well aren’t you getting confident.” You raise a brow, teasing him a bit as you start to pick on the beef with your chopsticks.

“Call it a gut feeling, L/N-san.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“You asked me to call you Kiyoomi and well,” you turn red once again, “Well it would be awkward if you were all formal with me.”

You saw the small twinkle in his eyes, “Y/N.” your name rolls out of his tongue smoothly and you feel your heart hammering on your chest, “I like that, Y/N…” 

It was in that little moment that you realized that you liked it when he called your name.

The dinner went by without a hitch, Sakusa Kiyoomi was not the same arrogant man that the media portrayed him to be. He was quiet, understanding, and soft. Completely the opposite of the first day you met him. He urged you to talk more about yourself, saying how boring and open his life was since the media tailed him a lot.

“Why Tokyo?” 

“Why not?” You shrug, swishing the wine before taking a small sip, “It’s a great place, it’s new, and I had someone I knew here. My mom and Obaasan were good friends so I was allowed to move here on my own.”

“Are you coming back to your country if you’re done with your studies?”

You were silent for a moment, “I don’t think so. I wanna be like my parents.”

“A humanitarian doctor, huh?”

“Yeah.” You smile, “A humanitarian doctor. How about you? What’s your story?”

“Nothing interesting.” He glazed, “I’m an open book, Y/N.”

“Open book?” You tilt your head to the side, “You’re usually painted as an asshole by the media…”

“But you don’t believe it.”

“You kinda were when we first met.”

For the first time, you hear his soft chuckle and your heart starts beating fast. You liked that sound, you wanted to hear something like that again, “You always know how to amuse me, Y/N.” he shakes his head, “And for the record, just because I’m not comfortable with touches, public places and whatnot does not make me an asshole...I just am a very private person with interests…”

“What’s your interest now?”

“You.” He replied nonchalantly, making you look away..

“Stop.”

“What?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Flirting with me with a straight face like you mean it!” You choke out, turning red.

“Because I do mean it, Y/N.” He shrugs. “I am interested in you.”

It seemed like that little date you had turned out more successful than you thought, one date led to another and another. This went on for a few months until he asked you to be his partner one night at a very random place, you usually pictured Sakusa Kiyoomi to be the smooth type     you were, after all, always the stuttering mess between you two     but when he asks you to be his officially, outside the public restroom of all places with his ear tips turning red, your reduced to a heaping pile of giggles.

With men like him, you didn’t exactly expect anything more than the dates.

You should’ve known better that he was too good to be true.

general taglist for the next part is open aye