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bonny-kookoo · 9 months

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Jungkook

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 [Intro]

Hearts can get hurt so easily in this cruel world. But maybe it's time he opens his own up for someone else.

Tags/Warnings: Non-Idol Jungkook, Dog Hybrid!Reader, former criminal!Jungkook, mentions of past neglect/abuse, reader has some pretty bad psychological problems (OCD, Anxiety, Selective mutism, hints at an eating disorder), hypersomnia, old to recovery, hurt and lots of comfort, angst, Jungkook has some problems with aggression and swears a lot, more TBA in future chapters

Length: 2k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: Boo. Also you can have early access to this and other selected fics on my Patreon!

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"You might've noticed the color of their collars." the worker says, barely pulling Jungkook away so an excited Hybrid boy runs past- and not into- him. "They all have a specific meaning for us. Over there, the brown ones-" she points, and while Jungkook looks disinterested, he's acgually actively listening. "They're healthy and don't have any physical or behavioral issues, and can therefore be adopted with no limitations. Over there, black, that means the young hybrid has been taken in because the former owners have passed away. He's gonna keep wearing that color until he decides that he's done mourning." the worker explains as she walks around the main 'Social Area' of the shelter.

There's a couple of hybrids sitting together on the floor, all bunnies he notices- and all wear the same colored collar. "Pink means they're on medications. The tags on their collars show which one's." she says when she notices Jungkook looking at the small group. "Yellow means severe behavioral problems. This young boy, for example, has bad anxiety." the worker explains as they walk a bit further.

"...and green?" he mumbles, unable to mask his interest.

"Physical disability." she says softly, as the girl talking to the yellow collared boy shifts a little, one leg replaced by a prosthetic below the knee. "You'll get used to it, don't worry. They adapt quickly and tend not to really care about it." the worker reassures when she spots the slight shift in Jungkooks gaze.

Once they sit down, he signs some papers before the worker leaves him for a moment to get an employee badge for him. He's busy resting his face on his hand, already painfully bored of it all- he's gonna be watched the entire shift he needs to work for the next few months anyway, because considering that his crimes include violence, there's no way they'll trust him to handle any of these hybrids alone.

It's when he notices someone asleep in the corner of the social area, wearing a bright red collar.

"Alright, this vest should fit you, you can just put that over your regular clothes. Those plastic coverings go over your shoes so you don't bring any dirt in. And this-" she offers a plastic card with a clip. "-goes somewhere we can clearly see it. Alright?" she beams, and Jungkook nods.

"Hey uh -" he wonders, gaining the employee's attention. "What do red collars mean?" he wonders, and somehow, her entire posture and expression change slightly.

"Ah.." she sighs sadly. "...those are non-adoptable hybrids. They're basically permanently homed here for the rest of their lifes." she explains.

"So they just.. stay here forever?" he wonders, and she nods.

"Their status is checked every year, but almost all red one's we have tend to not show any improvements after getting here." she says, sorting the papers he'd signed earlier. "terminal illnesses, severe disability or extreme behavioral problems can put someone in the red category. Most never get out."

"Whats with her?" he asks before he can stop himself, nodding towards where you sleep near a window, facing away from everyone.

"..has been here for four years now. She doesn't talk, mostly sleeps, and doesn't like physical contact. Also has OCD- she only eats one specific brand of hybrid food her old owner forced her to eat, and is convinced that if she looks someone in the eyes, they will die." she explains. "She's been here since I've started working here. Very sweet if you look past all her issues- but I agree that she's not fit for a regular home."

Jungkook doesn't answer.

He doesn't even want to attempt to imagine what you must've gone through to end in a situation like this. It had always pissed him off how most hybrids were treated by society- the whole system royally fucked up in his opinion, but then again, he's not a picture perfect citizen either.

Otherwise, he wouldn't be here.

"Alright then, let's go into the kitchens!" the worker snaps him out of his mind, leading him away from the social area.

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"Do you want to bring it to her?" Hana, the worker, asks him when she notices him looking at you again.

"I- uh.. Do you think that's a good idea?" he mumbles almost, cringing a little at the food they've put in a bowl for you - looking like dry cereal, if anything - more so like plain dog food. But then again, if that's what you chose, he shouldn't judge too much.

Though he can't help but feel like in a span of four years, how come no one has ever managed to at least get you to accept decent food?

Hana waves him off. "Just place it close to her and maybe sit with her. You can take a break until she's done and bring the dish back." she just says, before walking off to handle the other hybrids who're still waiting for their lunch.

Jungkook sighs, walking towards you with the bowl and his own lunch in hands, carefully getting closer to where you're sitting in front of the window. Your back is turned towards him, and your tail limp on the floor. While you don't move, he can see your ears turn towards him.

He knows they just told him to sit with you so they don't have to look after him like a kid.

"Uh- here." he mumbles, putting the bowl close to you. At first, you don't react at all- and he's fine with that, quite honestly. He just starts to eat his own meal, breaking the chopsticks apart before digging in, while you simply pull the bowl closer, taking a handful of hybrid pellets. "Does that even taste of anything?" he mumbles more or less, and he notices a slight stutter in your movements, signaling that you're definitely aware of his words directed at you.

He notices how you put a singular pellet close to him without turning around - offering it in a way, and Jungkook doesn't know what to think of it. But, being curious as ever, he doesn't hesitate to eat the bland looking ball of whatever it might be.

It tastes just as bland as it looks.

"Damn, what the hell.." he cringes a little before looking your way. "You do know there's other options than.. That, right?" Jungkook offers - but you shake your head at that. "No one's gonna bite the dust if you have something decent to eat." he shrugs to himself, rather indulging in his lunch to get the weird taste from his tongue.

All of this just makes him all the more upset at whoever forced you into such a state.

Taehyung is a dog hybrid too, after all. And somewhat the reason he's forced to do this whole social work shit at all- considering that Jungkook broke someone's collarbone for tying his best friend by the neck and leaving him in a yard just for the fun of it.

Just because he's a hybrid.

You wave a little with your hand, apparently trying to signal that he can leave- but he just stretches out his legs, lays on his back and rests his head on his arms, before closing his eyes. "Poke me when you're done eating or something." he just shrugs and doesn't notice that you take the chance of his closed eyes to look at his face.

He looks young, but mature at the same time. There's a butterfly stitch on his eyebrow, the other side decorated with a silver piercing. His lip seems like it had had some injury too recently- but it too is sporting a silver piercing, the ring sitting simple on the skin, yet the effect of it is undeniable. There's a softness to his face, and yet, taking all the features in, you can spot some rough edges here and there.

You wonder if he has many friends.

He seems a bit grumpy but nice, nonetheless. No one's ever attempted to try your food, let alone be so direct in trying to convince you of letting go of this old habit. You're not stupid. You know no one's gonna die if you eat something else. It's simply your body that doesn't seem to get the memo. It's there every time, vividly in your head. If you eat something other than this, someone's going to get mad.

And You don't trust anyone in this place.

Not after attempting to try a tiny piece of leftover cheese from the table, just for a tiger hybrid to angrily snarl at you. It's always your fault in the end, it's always you who has to take the blame, because if you can't talk, how can you stand up for yourself, explain yourself? No one wants to listen to you anyways.

You poke the dozing new guy. His name tag reads 'Jeon Jungkook'.

He wakes up, yawns. Stretches his arms, his legs, sits up and looks your way. You only look at his neck, barely able to see his mouth move as he speaks. "Done?" he mumbles, and you shrug, pushing your leftovers back towards him. "Come on. I know it tastes like shit but that's all you can eat?" he asks, and you shrug again. Why does he care how much you eat? "Here." He scoots a bit closer. "half of that. At least. Eat that or my leftovers." he offers, threatens almost, unable to push you off to the side like everyone else apparently does. He just sees so much of Jimin in you; his best buddy's hybrid, a rescue as well. And while Jungkook isn't as gentle as Yoongi was with Jimin when the cat hybrid was in his phase of recovery, he still can't ever shake off the images, the scenes he'd witnessed back in the day.

He fucking hates how some people treat hybrids.

And maybe that's why he stays until you've eaten as much as you can, shaking your head at some point stubbornly before shoving the bowl back towards him. He chuckles, the sound making your ears snap towards him, curled tail shaking a little bit, like it wants to wag but can't quite get over the fear to do so. "Good girl." he praises without thinking, barely snapping his hand back from almost petting your head out of instinct. He clears his throat.

Does he think you're weird now?

"Alright imma be out of your hair now." he says, before leaving you be, walking back towards the workers.

"Do you know her?" Hana asks, another worker just as curious as she seems to be standing next to her.

"No?" Jungkook says, suspicious of them as he raises an eyebrow, putting the bowl down to be washed after throwing your leftovers in the trash. "Why?" he wonders before Hana looks your way.

"Because that's the first time I've ever seen her tail wag."

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #hybrid jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagines

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thecuriousquest · 7 months

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We’ve seen what Levi is like in pregnancy but what is he like as a dad?

Platonic Yan!Dad Levi Headcanons

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs

Warnings: Platonic yandere themes, child reader, over protective tendencies, controlling behavior, punishment spanking with a belt, missing person

Checkout my Master List here.

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When reader is ten years old:

☕️He’s hella strict. You have an early bedtime, and you always have to wake up early as well. He makes sure you stay polished and hygienic because of his OCD. He shows you how to clean up after yourself, and if he even finds a stray toy in the living room, he’ll make you stop whatever it is you’re doing so that you can put it away.

☕️Levi is very over protective of you. He 100% will not let you even think about joining the corps. “I wanna be just like daddy when I grow up!” He gives you a withering look as dread immediately fills him. No, sweetie, no you don’t. You have no idea what it means to be a soldier, to see your comrades die right in front of you, to have to keep on fighting while others are left behind. You have no idea what hell you’ll have to go through to even awaken the Ackerman gene. He’ll sit you down and tell you in a short lecture that you will never be a soldier in the corps.

☕️He wants to see you succeed in life, but you can succeed with a tame job as a flower shop or book store owner.

☕️Levi is hiring soldiers who are equipped enough to be bodyguards. He makes sure that they have enough strength to be able to defend you against Titans or any sort of danger in case he’s not there.

☕️He makes his love for you known when he’s tucking you into bed at night and telling you a story his mother used to tell him when he was a child. He gives you a gentle kiss on the forehead before you go to sleep.

———

When reader is fifteen:

☕️He is still over protective of you and very strict. You claim that you’re old enough to not need body guards, and you’re still very adamant about wanting to join the corps. You’ll pout at him, “I’m probably the only Ackerman that doesn’t have any cool powers like you.”

☕️He’ll just brush you off and say, “And you never will be. Now, go study.”

☕️When you try to go behind his back to apply for the Survey Corps (honestly, he’s the captain. What did you expect?) he’s walking you all the way home while pinching your ear.

☕️“Papa, stop! It hurts!”

☕️Because of his childhood, he would never take a meal away from you as a punishment. He isn’t a fan of locking you in your room either, but it gets the job done. He busts your ass with his belt and grounds you, and you have to go to sleep on your stomach.

☕️He makes sure to spend time with you because he doesn’t always want you to see him as this strict father figure. He wants you to know that you can talk to him about what’s going on in your life.

☕️You try to tell him you have a crush on the boy who lives across the street from you, and that boy suddenly goes missing (assumed to have been fooling around by the wall). So sad for you. Papa Levi is there to console you.

#yandere #yandere themes #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #attack on titan #levi ackerman attack on titan #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi x reader #yandere levi ackerman x reader #platonic yandere #platonic yandere father #platonic yandere levi ackerman

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lemonmaid · 1 year

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Crack Headcannon about NRC

You cannot tell me NRC stinks so bad, like some of these boys probably do not know how to take proper hygiene. Crowley literally probably has to put up signs once a year (due to demand by Vil) and hold a assembly about personal hygiene.

HEARTSLABYUL

The only smelly one is fucking Ace, he probably uses Axe after and during basketball. It got to the point where Trey had to have a dad-talk with Ace about personal hygiene.

SAVANACLAW

Smellest dorm in the school, like B.O, and the smell of wet animals. The smell probably gets worst during torment season. Leona won't saying because "not my circus not my monkey".

OCTAVINELLE

There isn't a lot of smell but it does smell like fish. I do think when they were introduced to deodorant, Floyd ate it. Like straight up took a bite of it.

SCARABIA

I think the smell of buring sand hides the B.O smell, also Jamil's OCD probably won't stand it so he uses his signature spell to make others bathe.

POMEFIORE

No smelly kids, Vil will not tolerate it. Probably when Epel first show up (that farm smell isn't a joke), Vil probably took Epel by the scruff and hosed him down.

IGNIHYDE

Secound smellest room, Idia probably doesn't care for himself or others and probably doesn't know how to tell someone they stink in the nicest way. Otho is currently trying to hold a personal hygiene meeting and probably sends out emails every morning.

DIASOMNIA

Can Faes smell? Like, if they are hundreds of years old does that mean their bodies will stop producing hormones so fast? I can't really say for certain, but I think they don't have a problem with smell.

Hey guys! Sorry not uploaded so much! I got a new job and it's been taking all my time and mental health. Let me tell you making Americanos are so gross 😭 but I am currently writing and fixing Yuu(Reader) as a issek'd baby. Let new know if you wanna be tagged for the story!

#twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #leona kingscholar #twst leona #disney twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst vil #twst azul #twst nrc #nrc staff #twst riddle #twst ace #twst trey #twst idia #twst ortho #twst crack #twisted wonderland jamil #twisted wonderland headcannons

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turnstechgodhead · 2 months

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ok to the anon thats talkin w me about mental eelness and bro and the "knight of time" line:

id post your entire ask but its Very Long and im struggling to answer all of it in a way that isnt fucking with my head and anxiety so im going to answer with only the character analysis stuff HERE on this post my apologies

for the record i dont even remotely know how to begin tagging this mess down here and i really think itd be better suited for my nsfw blog but yall aint asking about this on that blog which is fair take care of yourselves

JSYK it's stuff about brocal/intrusive thoughts about inc st and c s a SO kids please avert your eyes for my comfort thank YOU

i dont personally have ocd afaik but as someone who Has intrusive thoughts (actual horrifying ones that dirk, gabe and i have to beat back with a stick, not the ones kids think are intrusive thoughts today)

i definitely think that's how bro approaches raising dave; overcompensating for the accusations from his mind and cal[iborn] leading to total icing him out

okay same anon who was asking abt the “i was raising the knight of time” line. you saying “caliborn made [bro] believe that platonic affection is in fact not platonic at all and is instead sexual[the implications when bro is constantly carrying around cal with his arms around his neck btw. insane.]” is fascinating. is this based off the fact that caliborn thinks even hugging or a kiss on the cheek is “filthy?” it makes me think about ocd/bipolar disorder/misc mental illnesses and intrusive thoughts. i have bipolar and im a huge softie for kids but my intrusive thoughts sometimes try to convince me that my affection is somehow sinister.

YES very much

i need to describe to you my thoughts on brocal really quick bc i think that'll help put it in perspective and idk how else to talk about it;

heres the thing

cal is both bro's boyfriend and his fucking family okay

imagine you're a kid and you have this puppet friend that speaks to you using silly words and tells you that you should eat glass maybe :) or cut your fingers off or tear off your own head and hes the only thing thats taking care of you as a person even if hes mean

he tells you that people touching is inappropriate and vulgar and he cant believe theyre doing that in public (but its okay if we hug and cuddle you know?)

but also as you grow up this puppet starts calling you weird shit like stud or hunky or what the hell ever and maybe. youre going to kiss him

this puppet is the only thing you care about because hes the only thing that cares about you youve been with him for years and years and he talks to you and hes all that matters and now youre obsessed with him and you dont know when that happened but you have an obsessive personality anyway

youll do anything for him. (let me kill for you)

hes the only person you love because you dont love roxy this way (consuming, overwhelming, obligating to do what he wants, because he's all you have)

and well shit

if cals telling you that youre a freak for wanting to cuddle on the baby like you did that once (call it the knight it helps keep your distance) then i guess you're a fucking freak because its not even your right to treat it as family anyway; it's bigger than you. it's more than you will ever be and you need to make sure it doesn't fucking die and apparently that involves at least a little bit of affection cal please understand(what a disgusting species)

#mumbling #brocal #homestuck #bro strider #tsgzv #tsgw #gabe and dirk are my mind parasites btw #PLEASE dont call me a system #timaeus posting

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minthara · 2 months

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really long personal answer to an anon i got. trigger warnings in the tags.

First of all i wanna apologise to everyone who follows me for the last few days lmao, but i feel like if i dont post about it im literally gonna kill myself. I need somewhere to write down my thoughts because i feel bad always going to the same 2 friends i still have and complain about the same situation again and again about a dude they dont even know that well.

Thank you so much for ur message really, and sorry if im gonna take it as another excuse to write down all my thoughts, but i think it will really help me.

So the pathetic thing. I didnt ever post about this and in real life i think only like. 3 people knew. But after we broke up i begged him for months to take me back. It really was pathetic. And when he called me pathetic i think he was just very very hurt, because that was the second time i broke up with him (just a few weeks ago). It was in the sense of me begging him for so long just to break up again a few months later. I feel fucking stupid even writing this. I spent about 10k euros trying to get away from him, it fucked up my life so massively that i lost a job i really loved over it.

And now my new job is about 5 minutes away from our old apartment and i think thats a huge reason why i cant get over it. Every day i walk past restaurants, the supermarkets, anything we went to together. I had to buy snacks for work today and just burst into tears in the fucking supermarket because we used to go there together. The people at work are always so appreciative bc i know the area so well but they dont know how much it fucking hurts me and its so stupid like. Should i just avoid that part of town forever??? No fucking get over it bitch like wtf its a fucking supermarket.

And it also hurts because i know i wasnt always perfect and there were many times i was super mean to him. But at a point i couldnt deal with his ADHD anymore and that sounds so shitty but im a super organised person to the point where sometimes i wonder if thers anything ocd related but i dont think so. In my head i swap between i have ocd, i have adhd, i have borderline, i have autism - i have no idea whats wrong with me, but the way i feel cant be normal. I know this because the way i behave isnt normal, i know i can come across as really strange, i cant judge social situations well and often dont know how to behave. But i constantly criticised him for symptoms of his mental illnesss.

But i never physically hurt him, and that was the last straw for me, why i left. I dont know how u can do that to a person you love.

And im just mourning the life i thought i was going to have so, so, so much. I know on tumblr ppl somehow think youre brainwashed when you want a traditional marriage and kids and stuff, but i really thought that was going to happen in the next 2 / 3 years, thats how i planned my life since i was fucking 21 and i met him. And now im almost 27, and i cant even go on dates because i cannot bear talking to new people because all i want is a clone of him but better.

I know i will look back at this and think “u cried about THAT guy???” in a few years, because thats how its always been in my life lol (except for one relationship, but were still really really best friends). I always think afterwards i will never love someone that much again. But it hits so much harder because it was such a serious relationship lol i really wanted to marry him. Sobs lol.

#asks #anonymous #abuse cw #suicide cw #i feel so much better after writing this down lol #blondshell salad on repeat if u know u know

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cinnamon-notes · 4 months

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i've been sleeping so long in a twenty-year dark night but now i see daylight

[bio] : cinnamon, roaring twenties || she/they, lesbian || english speaker (not my native language though) || cancer sun, leo rising, cancer moon || infp || either dark academia aesthetic or boho it depends on what im going through :) || i judge taylor swift for putting ice in her wine

[likes/stans] : taylor swift, gilmore girls, F•R•I•E•N•D•S, cate blanchett, lauren graham|| evermore and reputation stan || i stole my personality from lorelai gilmore || cats, french movies, xmas movies, tea, cinnamon (as you can tell from my user) || wine and coffee || books, poetry, art, photography || butch up my personality (and act out of character) by watching sports while drinking beer || the autumn sky half an hour before sunset || the moon (im her secret lover) || i write my silly little poems, i play my silly little instruments, i make my silly little art, i take silly little pictures || "taylor had an imaginary friend as a child and seven is about their braids like a pattern and their face taylor cannot recall but the love taylor still got for them" truther || she/they james truther || carolina is este's ghost || olivia is taylor's best cat (!!!) || the joker and the queen is taylor's best collab with ed (after run)

[dnf] : homophobic, xenophobic, racist, transphobic, zionist, ... discriminate and are against basic human rights || you're younger than 13, it just creeps me out (sorry. it's not in a mean way) || i post about my mental issues (i mostly struggle with ocd, depression, and have an ed); i always put trigger warnings but if you aren't okay with these topics, just feel free to unfollow/not follow.

[what i post] : mainly my random thoughts, facts/updates/vents about my life || journal-like paragraphs || i write poems and i have some wips going on, although i dont publish my works here, i tend to share the creative process a lot || taylor swift's lyrics analysis, lyrics parallels, quotes i like, poetry (not mine) || swiftie/friends-related content || movies i watch, books i read, paintings i love, songs i play

[my hashtags] : see the tag #cinnamon-taglist (you can find it in the tags of this post)

i love talking to people, so feel free to interact, it is more than welcome! thanks for following my blog, i hope you'll have a good time checking it! <3

#intro post #introduction #blog intro #cinnamon notes #cinnamon talks #cinnamon answers #cinnamon replies #cinnamon smokes #cinnamon polls #cinnamon and the folks #cinnamon analysis #cinnamon in love #i'm her dorothea #cinnamon situationship #cinnamon at work #cinnamon crochets #cinnamon taglist

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lhazaar · 1 month

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hey. i'm turning my chair around and sitting in it backwards now because i want to speak specifically to people with ocd. this is a targeted post and is not meant to apply to the userbase of this website at large or to serve as a policy decision.

hi. do you know what scrupulosity means? it is a strong, intense, often painful concern about morality or religion. it's very common for religious people with ocd, actually—the fear that you've sinned, that you will sin, that your thoughts themselves are sinful. you're afraid of being an evil person. every thought and feeling you have is scrutinized to exhaustion in case it's proof that you're evil. this also happens for non-religious people with ocd, it's just that ours will look different; it's often a preoccupation with social justice issues. you care a lot about being a good person, right! most people do. you want to be a good person, you want to be kind to others and to dismantle oppressive systems where you can. i'm making some assumptions here, but they're based on my specific audience base.

so, there's this thing that happens online, especially on tumblr and twitter—not because bluh bluh platforms bad, but because of the ways in which information is propagated on here. people used to tag for these posts sporadically but don't do so as much anymore. you know posts that exhort you, the reader, specifically, to take action? they tell you not to look away, not to bury your head in the sand. they tell you to give and to agitate and to donate time, money, resources.

those posts used to make me intensely, deeply anxious. i don't mean mild agitation, i mean life-ruining, day-occupying panic that seizes your entire body, and thoughts that don't leave your brain. guilt that paralzyes you because you, personally, cannot go kill the politicians responsible. you don't have enough money to do more than donate a few dollars, and sometimes you don't even have that. but because of where you live, because of the fact that you have internet access and you're literate enough to read these posts, you know that you have a level of privilege that most people never will. you're aware of that privilege because you're reasonably in-tune with social justice movements and you've probably spent some time dissecting your own privilege to examine your biases. (that's not a bad thing; i'm not here to condemn that. stay with me, if you can.)

there's a thing that can happen if you've lived with ocd like this for a long time where you become kind of incapable of telling what's addressed to you personally and what isn't. everything feels like a personal exhortation. you have trouble saying no, or knowing when you're overextended, because other people have it worse. how dare you enjoy relative comfort when people are being bombed or drowning in a climate change -induced flood or being crushed to death in a crowd panic. how dare you not be aware of it at all times, always, constantly. how dare you look away. don't look away.

i want to tell you about something i went through, if that's okay. a lot of people who follow me will already know this, but i haven't talked about this aspect of it very much publicly. in 2020, while visiting my partner in southern oregon, we had to evacuate from wildfires twice in under 24 hours. that was a really, really bad fire season, caused and perpetuated by a combination of global climate change and colonialization practices that destroyed traditional indigenous fire management strategies across the west coast of north america. fires stretched from bc to california. we wound up fleeing south, and then had to flee back north again, hemmed in on three sides. i flew back home to bc shortly afterwards, and i have this vivid, awful memory of seeing my home mountain range, the cascades, choked out with smoke from the window of an airplane. the woman in front of me sobbed the entire time until we touched down.

i remember thinking at that time that it was insane the entire world wasn't stopping. what i was experiencing was apocalyptic in scale—the fire we ran from the first time was part of a complex that chewed up entire towns. it wasn't the first fire season, nor the worst for the continent, nor the world. but all i could think in the moment was why aren't we doing anything, this is going to be all of us in a decade, why are people looking away.

if i had gone online and posted that, it would not have been morally wrong of me. there's no ascribing morality to a reaction like that. i mean, if i'd gone to someone who suffered in the years prior in australia or california and told them that ours was So Much Worse, that would have made me an asshole, but i didn't do that. i made some upset facebook posts targeted at the trump voters in my family, but i had no way to express at the time the sort of clawing panic of WHY AREN'T PEOPLE DOING ANYTHING??

the answer to that, which you probably know, is: what would they have done? we were sheltered by friends we evacuated with, but what power did a mutual in new york or wales or singapore have to affect a wildfire in oregon?

so, come back to the present day with me again, if you will. i said above that posts worded like this used to make me really, really anxious. in the span of time after the fire, i developed ptsd, and my ocd ruined my life. i took an extra year to graduate after i'd finished all my coursework because i could not send in the forms required. i was too busy spending 10-16 hours a day rearranging furniture in my room, or lying in bed, full-body tense, until it felt like my teeth would crack from the pressure. i'm medicated now. i'm grateful for it. i have more tolerance for these posts because i've been there. i know the op isn't doing anything wrong, because they're not wrong. why isn't the world stopping to look at a natural disaster, or a genocide? the world should not be like this.

you are not the world. you are someone with a brain that will torture you to death given the chance. you know how learning to reckon with your privileges, whatever they may be, requires you to not try and escape them? you need to be able to hold in your head that yes, you benefit from something that isn't fair; yes, other people should have that benefit, and that they don't is unjust. but you need to, for example, not try and weasel your way out of being white because you're uncomfortable with the guilt that it produces. you need to not go online and say well not ALL americans because you can't sit with the idea of being complicit in american imperialism. if you have ocd, you need to apply that to your own brain, too. you need to apply it to every post that you see. you need to know that people are not speaking directly to you, they are crying out in pain and fear. they are not doing anything wrong. they are scared and hurting.

they do not benefit from you taking on all the guilt of that fear and pain. i am not saying this to absolve you of the guilt. i am saying that you need to be able to exist with that level of guilt without allowing it to paralyze and destroy you. if you can't do that right now, i'm not here to cast judgement on you. blacklist phrases. i had "wildfire" blacklisted for a long time. i'm sure i missed aid posts because of it. the alternative was me being nonfunctional. for a long time, i had donation posts blacklisted across the board, because the way my ocd worked meant that i was neurologically incapable of knowing where my own limits were, and i would give money i did not have. if you need to do that, this is me giving you permission. doing this does not make you evil. it does not make you morally bankrupt. it makes you someone whose brain is trying to fucking kill them, and the world needs you to not let that happen.

this is not a post about how you're exempt from caring about the world if you're mentally ill, it's about how you cannot apply that care to anything useful if you're having massive panic spirals every other day about the guilt that you feel. your guilt should not rule your life. if it does, i say this kindly, but you very likely need medication. i'm sorry if you don't have access to that right now. you cannot think your way out of ocd. you cannot think your way into stopping neural activity. you cannot guilt your way into being a good person; you have to be able to exist with the guilt and not let it rule you in order to do that. nobody benefits from your brain trying to martyr you in the name of solving the world's suffering.

you need to be able to function, free of crushing and paralyzing guilt, before you can help anyone. you are not an effective ally like this just because your brain tells you that it's necessary.

#bark bark #ocd tag #actually ocd #also i want to say this now: if you do not experience ocd i do not want your 'well actually' takes on this.#again. this is not a site-wide thing i think everyone should do #do not mistake this for me saying that it's ~okay~ to be wilfully ignorant about genocide or climate disaster #i am speaking to a very specific clinical population whose brains do not work in a way that people outside of that population understand #the guilt you experience with ocd is not the same guilt that everyone has just turned up #it warps your entire personality. it warps your sense of right and wrong #you will deal with it for your entire life unfortunately #(even medicated i still absolutely have Intense White Guilt episodes lol #i just try not to make them my loved ones' problem #because part of handling pathological guilt has to be responsibility without overresponsibility)

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pencilpat · 6 months

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How did the fandom allow 'sympathetic' and 'unsympathetic' tags to even happen. Like I suppose the dark sides do come across as scary in their initial appearances, I know Janus got me good pretending to be Patton but... They were both very clearly hurting and hidden parts of Thomas who had been stifled and locked away for a while. Their methods are flashy but both Remus and Janus believe they're benefiting Thomas.

As a DID system, it reminds me of the system role persecutor-protector - the dark sides believe what they're doing will benefit Thomas, whether Deceit through lies or The Duke through extreme honesty or Anxiety by being too scary to ignore, but the ways that they protect Thomas cause him distress and/or fear. Janus was unveiled to be self-preservation as much as he is dishonesty, implying that Thomas learned to lie early on as part of his survival. And Remus, while we don't know much about him yet, is repressed imagination and religious trauma as much as he is intrusive thoughts. He has ideas and thoughts about Thomas's content that are very valid, as far as the slight babying of his audience and unwillingness to confront the dark parts of himself. They have good traits that are genuinely helpful, but their aggressive ways of attempting to help and express themselves are instead making the "good" parts of Thomas feel like he's a bad person.

Calling them unsympathetic feels so counterproductive to the story and the lessons being taught. You're doing exactly what the light sides do to them by declaring them too scary to look at, and worthy of being repressed and shunned. I feel like this won't ever be understood by the fanbase until the other dark sides get an equivalent of 'Accepting Anxiety'. But that shouldn't have to happen. It's a total lack of sympathy to look at the survival mechanisms and intrusive thoughts of a mentally ill character and declare them 'unsympathetic' as though they're cartoon villains. It may be fiction, but the thoughts and opinions you express about those parts of Thomas are heard and internalized by people like me, who are sick in the same ways as character!Thomas. OCD is a blight on my life, but the portrayal of methods to work through your intrusive thoughts and the reassurances Logan gave to let Thomas know that he is not a bad person for having them? That meant so much to me. Remus means so much to me. Seeing people turn around and do exactly what Patton, Virgil, and Roman do to them, labeling them as "wrong" somehow and pushing them to a place you don't have to see them, it hurts. It has real world effects on how people talk about people like me with 'dark' parts of themself.

Every part of Thomas has the ability to be both bad and good, because Thomas is not perfect. No one is perfect, and someone appearing dark or aggressive in their self expression doesn't always make them unworthy of empathy or understanding. Those parts of Thomas never deserved to be deemed as 'wrong' in the first place, and the story is about unpacking that thinking, slowly and painfully as it may go.

#sanders sides #remus sanders #janus sanders #thomas sanders #rant

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lyraoctaviawrites · 2 months

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✨Welcome to the Into the Phantasm Masterpost✨

Okay, should probably give some context here. I post a lot about Into the Phantasm and I just wanted to make this post to… I guess advertise/explain what it is and talk about the state that the series is currently in.

What is Into the Phantasm?

Into the Phantasm is a series of five fantasy novels. It follows the journey of Sarah Taylor and her two best friends Maya Cadigan and Lillian Snow. These three all lead fairly uneventful lives, but all of that changes the moment they meet with a mysterious, hooded traveller who turns out to be not of Earth, but of another world entirely. A wondrous place that exists through the reflective surface of the silver mirror they carry with them. A world where every story, world, character, creature or concept that humans come up with is made real. An alternate dimension called The Phantasm.

Above all else, Into the Phantasm is a character driven story with a focus on the emotional journeys and mental health of not just the main cast, but a good majority of the side characters as well. It is a MASSIVE series with a huge world and expansive lore. So much so that I couldn’t fit it all into the main series. There will be side stories releasing both alongside the main five parts and after they’ve all released. Into the Phantasm has so many different tales to tell over the course of its vast, continuous narrative that only becomes more beautiful and devastating as it goes along… Seriously, get used to book 1 and 2 while they’re there, I don’t fuck around with the later books. :3

ITP also has a focus on inclusivity, especially for an LGBTQIA+ audience. It features gay and lesbian characters, trans characters, ace/aro characters, etc. Also, as an autistic writer, I wanted to include autism, ADHD, OCD, etc, representation as well. Above all, Into the Phantasm is a safe space. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t make mistakes. If you decide to read the series and spot something that’s harmful in any way to anyone, please let me know so I can change it.

Another thing I should probably add is that I don’t recommend ITP to a younger audience. The whole series, but especially books 3, 4 and 5 delve into some pretty mature themes. Trigger warnings have been included in the descriptions of each book, and if there’s anything triggering I didn’t mention, again, let me know so I can add it on.

Into the Phantasm will be releasing for absolutely free on Wattpad but depending on how things go, might not be there permanently. They’ll be there for a good long while, but will be removed once I have enough impressions and am able to get the books monetised. This will be announced if and when it happens.

If you think this series sounds interesting, I’d recommend following me, following the Into the Phantasm tag and keeping up with this post to see any and all updates.

Geez this section was long…

Updates on the current state of the series:

Currently, none of the parts are available to read. Book 1 was published up until recently but I decided to rewrite it as I felt like it wasn’t up to the standard that I felt it should be. If anyone read the original book 1 (unlikely) and thought it was a little naively written (very likely) I’d recommend trying it out again when the rewrite releases.

The first three chapters are DONE and are available to read!

You can access them here

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horsesandhockeyplayers · 1 year

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When Life Gives You Lemons- Part 14

Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders, OCD etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail. These warnings are relevant to the whole fic, not just particular chapters.

Word Count Chapter: 4500

Word Count Total: 62,779

Author’s Note: Huge shoutout to @newlibrary for the graphics and @hockeylvr59 for the editing reads.

Barbs and Lemon are back by popular demand! Reminder, that this fic starts during the summer of 2019. I will be tagging the Avs and Lausanne HC. Also *~*~*~*~* means a POV change. Flipping between Mark and Clementine. This part begins with Clementine. THERE BE SMUT.

Part Fourteen*

My stomach swooped like I was on a roller coaster, and I knew I’d forever remember this moment as the one when I fell in love with Mark Barberio, or at least one of them. There seemed to be many moments when I fell a little more in love with him.

I kissed the underside of his chin as I murmured, “You’re so full of it.”

He wrapped me up in his arms again, hugged me to his chest and shifted his hips as he replied, “I’m full of something, and I’m gonna have to go take care of it in a minute.”

Bracing a hand on his chest, I sat up. How he could toe the line between being romantic one minute and entirely asinine the next I might never know, but, much to my great dismay, it was incredibly endearing and I felt my heart squeeze in my chest. My hair fell in a curtain around me as I scooted back onto his thighs and I tilted my chin in the direction of his crotch as I whispered, “Can I?”

His grin was impossibly wide as he chuckled and informed me, “Lemon, for the record you never have to ask a dude if you can touch his junk.”

I hid behind my hair, faltering as I offered, “Ok, I just…”

I trailed off, because how to do you tell someone you’re about to be intimate with that indescribable trauma happened to you and you don’t actually KNOW what to do with a dick since you’ve never had a healthy sexual relationship before? I wasn’t exactly sure, hence why I grew quiet.

Mark settled his hands behind his head— which just accentuated his arms and chest, and I realized that it was really unfair that there are men who looked like this in real life and not just on romance novel covers and I was still halfway shocked that I was curled up on the couch with one of said men— as he responded evenly, “Lemon, just do what you want. It’s ok, I promise. If I don’t like something I’ll tell you.”

“But I don’t want to do something you don’t like,” I bit my lip after answering. Perfection wasn’t a suggestion with Bill and I hated that I kept comparing them together because Mark was kind and wonderful and Bill was a shitstain on humanity.

“Babe,” he countered, “I do shit you don’t like all the time. But I stop and let you adjust or call me an idiot or we talk about it. That’s how you ended up on top, remember?”

I nodded and scooted back a little farther down his thighs, trying to sit on my heels instead of his knees. He had tucked his erection under the waistband of his underwear and jeans, leaving the head of his cock sticking out; without thinking, I reached out and, with the tip of my finger, smeared around the precum that had gathered there

His breath hitched, and I heard him hiss through his teeth. He unclenched his hands from behind his head, moving them to grip the arm of the couch instead. I bit my lip, palming him through his jeans and then tentatively, unbuttoned his fly. As I slid his zipper down, I took a moment to appreciate how he was straining against his boxer briefs.

I dipped my hand under the waistband of his shorts and when I wrapped my hand around the base of his dick, his hips jerked and he swallowed a moan. The way his body responded to me made me feel a little dizzy with power; the novelty that I caused him to react that way and that I was calling the shots here was almost too much to bear, but I knew one thing for sure: it was incredibly hot and I kind of loved it. With my free hand, I shoved his underwear down and freed him completely, letting my fingertips trail up his length. His dick jumped into my hand and I enjoyed feeling him, enjoyed the velvety feel of his skin over the hardness of his erection. When I risked a glance up at him, he had sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes were intense, and laser focused on me. “Is this ok?” He nodded vigorously.

I watched him react as I stroked him, never having the opportunity to explore someone so thoroughly. Precum was dripping onto his stomach and I swiped it up with my finger and licked it off, rolling the bitter taste over my tongue. Mark’s breath hitched again and his dick twitched in my hand.

This time when he exhaled, there was a distinctive “fuck,” muttered under his breath. Watching him straining, gripping the arm of the couch so hard I thought there would be permanent divots in the leather, I realized he was doing his best to give this completely unpressured experience to me, and as hot as this moment was already, the fact that he could be so unselfish in it, despite everything, only endeared him to me more.

I rubbed my thumb over the head of his cock, and I saw the muscles in his jaw clench as I spread around some more of the precum that was leaking out.

“Lemon,” he choked out, “Spit in your hand.”

“What?” I asked. His words broke my trance, and even though I understood what he was saying, it took a moment for me to process the suggestion.

“Spit. In. Your. Hand,” he panted.

I did my best to gather enough saliva in my mouth before I did what he asked. The lubrication changed the texture of his skin, and he went from velvet to silk. I loved the feel of him against my hand, the easy slide of him across my palm almost hypnotic. As I stroked him, I felt him get impossibly harder.

He was trying to control the movement of his hips, but they kept jumping up underneath me, shoving the length of him through my fist completely.

He wasn’t completely shaven, but he was trimmed and I moved my other hand to palm his scrotum, rolling his testicles in my hand. I heard him curse softly as I teased them, felt them tighten as jet of cum landed on his stomach and he groaned, “Fuck. Don’t stop.”

I had indeed stopped what I was doing to watch the cum jet out of him, but with his encouragement, I started again, stroking him through each spurt and firmly holding his balls in my other hand.

FInally, he was done and he reached down and grabbed my wrists in his hands as he conceded, “Okay, now you can stop. Too much.”

He flopped back, sinking into the couch as he let my wrists go and with his eyes closed he rasped, “Holy shit, Lemon, that was… hot.”

It was hot and now that I wasn’t transfixed by his genitals, I was able to sit back on my heels and just look at him: his hair was disheveled from my fingers carding through it and the cross on the silver chain was resting against his chest, carving a shimmering path through all of the muscles there. I took that moment to appreciate that there were so many muscles. Even if I worked out just as much as he did, I still probably wouldn’t have half the amount of muscles— which I personally thought was unfair.

HIs abs were splattered with his cum and I gave in to the urge to reach down and trail my index finger through the milky fluid, pushing it through the valley of his abdominals. When I risked a glance at his face, he had one eye open and he was watching me carefully, his rakish eyebrow raised. “You’ve never gotten the opportunity to just enjoy someone’s body, have you?” he asked.

Shaking my head, I impulsively licked the cum off my finger.

He grabbed his shirt off the floor and wiped his stomach off before he sat up. When we were facing each other again, his hand went to the back of my head and he pulled me down for a kiss, his tongue invading my mouth almost like he was trying to lick his own cum out of it.

When he finally pulled away, I had to touch my lips to make sure they were still there. “Come on, Lemon,” he prompted, picking me up and setting me on my feet next to the couch. He made it seem so easy, even though I knew there was no way it was. He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom, trying to hold his jeans up with his free hand. He ended up kicking them off in the hallway.

Once we were through the door, he pulled me forward and spun me around like we were dancing, his bed hitting the back of my knees and I fell backward onto it. I had been dreading this moment and I shut my eyes, bracing for the moment of panic I knew I would feel when he fell on top of me.

When his weight didn’t hit me right away, I opened an eye to catch him falling to his knees. He had disposed of his boxer briefs and tossed them with his shirt into a pile and I realized he had gotten fucking naked and I had missed the show.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I asked, “Barbs? What are you doing?”

He reached up to hook his fingers into the waistband of my leggings and stripped them off with my underwear in one smooth pull, throwing them in the same pile as his clothes. “I should think that is obvious,” he whispered into the skin of my thigh.

“It’s… not?”

He gave me a look I couldn’t interpret and grabbed me gently, dragging my body toward him until I was almost hanging off the bed. He arched a brow, like that was supposed to give me a clue and I shrugged, clueless. I was still unsure as to what was happening, but I wasn’t uneasy about it, which was a miracle in and of itself.

He walked closer to me on his knees as he instructed, “Arms up.”

I lifted my arms, more as a reflex than anything, and when I settled back on my elbows, I was naked. It was the first time I had been naked with a man since my marriage, and I fought the urge to cover myself. Mark sat back on his heels for a moment and I could feel his gaze traveling up and down my body. When he spoke, his voice was so soft that I barely heard him murmur, “You are breathtaking.”

I looked down, half concerned that my body had been replaced by body snatchers. But, all I saw was the same old body I saw every day: one with a faint map of stretch marks from gaining weight too fast; battle scars, that were both literal and figurative, from fighting my marriage and myself; a smattering of cellulite, weird tan lines and broken capillaries; and assorted other imperfections that seemed to be emphasized in this moment of vulnerability. Before I could voice any of this, Mark slid his hands from my ankles to my knees and twisted them to skirt along the inside of my thighs. He ran them upwards until his thumbs found the crease along my vaginal lips, which proved to be sufficiently distracting and quieted the self-doubt racing through my brain.

When he pulled my folds apart and blew on my clit, I fell back onto the bed, a whimpered “fuck,” escaping my throat. I felt the smile on his lips as he pressed them to me and licked the length of my pussy.

I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to watch him or just lay back and enjoy the sensations. He explored me with his tongue, his fingers spreading me apart as he licked around my pussy. When he closed his lips over my clit and sucked, my hips arched into his face, and when he slid a thick finger into me, I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

My orgasm hit me like a tsunami; the sensation started to rise, and suddenly I was drowning, my hips bucking wildly into his face. I swear Mark growled when he locked his free arm over my pelvis to hold me in place as he sucked my clit and finger fucked me through my orgasm. As I was coming down, he slid a second finger in with the first and the stretch caused a mini orgasm on the heels of the first. With a flat-tongued lick, he detached from my “pleasure nub,” and I suddenly understood why terrible romance novelists called it such.

He continued to slide his fingers in and out of me, leaving trails of wet opened mouth kisses along my thighs until I relaxed completely, the occasional tremor shaking my body.

When he slipped his fingers out of me, he sucked them into his mouth to clean them off before crawling over me and resting against the pillows; once situated, he hauled me up his body and arranged me half on top of him, his dick resting along my thigh.

With our naked bodies like this, it painted a stark picture of how different we were. HIs body was thick and toned. I don’t think he had one tiny cell of fat on him and his skin was a dark olive after having been in the sun all summer. I, on the other hand, looked like poorly proven sourdough bread that Paul Hollywood would have been ashamed of… with blue hair.

I felt Mark take a breath below my ear as he whispered in it, “Was that ok? I don’t want to brag, but I have been told I’m pretty good at that.”

I stretched my jaw a bit, willing the muscles to work since all of them felt like they had the integrity of wet cardboard. “I don’t have anything to compare it to,” I ventured, “So you could be the absolute worst in the world, but if that’s the worst, then the best might kill me.”

He went completely still beneath me as he processed my response, taking a moment before he responded, “What do you mean you don’t have anything to compare it to?”

I set my chin on his chest and looked up at him as I clarified, “I’ve never experienced that before?”

He looked a little shocked, and rubbed the hand that wasn’t cradling my ass down his beard as he thought that over. “Never tell Landy this,” he murmured, “but I’m actually at a loss for words.”

I shrugged. “Honestly,” I admitted, “If getting that as my first time meant I didn’t get it other times, I think I’m ok with that.” Mark smiled down at me and I returned the smile before I schooled my face into a more stern expression and continued, “Also, please don’t even mention Landy again while we’re naked, in bed together, or naked in bed together. ”

Mark’s face softened and he kissed the top of my head, chuckling lightly and he concluded, “Well, Lemon, I was glad to give it to you.”

His cock was still hard against my hip, and I ran a finger up the length of him as I began, “You’re still..”

“Mmmhmm.” I felt his chest rumble as he responded.

I looked at him inquisitively, “can I?”

He just looked amused as he answered, “Babe, if it involves you and my dick, I’m going to have very few restrictions.”

I bit my lip and straddled his thighs again, mimicking our position on the couch earlier.

“Do you have… you know?” I hoped he would know.

Mark’s face was caught up in a grin as he answered the question I couldn’t finish, nodding as he informed me, “your inability to finish sentences when referring to anything about sex is adorable.” His long arm reached up and he somehow dug a condom out of the drawer of his nightstand and tossed it near my knee. “Knock yourself out, babe.”

Suddenly faced with a hard dick, a man with his hands folded behind his head, and a condom, I didn’t know what to do or where to start. I looked up at him for guidance and he just shook his head as he told me, “This is your show, Lemon. No judgment.”

I bit my lip and traced the outline of his testicles in his scrotum, fascinated when the skin drew up tight in response to the stimulation. Mark sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t react otherwise. I was nervous all of a sudden and the moment felt charged, in a different way than it had earlier; some of the urgency was gone, and we had all the time in the world, which meant there was plenty of time for me to prove I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and make a fool of myself. I didn’t want to throw all of that at him right now so I just said simply, “You have to tell me what you like.”

“Clementine, you are naked, on top of me, playing with my junk… I like all of this.” He made no effort to hide his amusement.

I wrapped my hand around his balls and rolled them between my fingers, causing another sharp inhale from Mark and and an exhaled “fuck.”

His dick twitched against his stomach, the tip leaking clear fluid onto his skin. Letting go of him, I scooped it up with a finger and sucked it off.

His big body squirmed beneath me as he groaned, “Fuck, you are killing me, do you know that?”

Comments like that filled me with confidence and made it easy for me to toss aside all of my hesitation and it occurred to me I should thank him for that later. Feeling reinvigorated and embracing my newly-found inclination for power, I teased him, “You taste good. I didn’t know you could taste good.” I may or may not have made a show of licking my lips to prove my point.

He threw his head back and moaned.

I ripped the condom wrapper with my teeth, gripping his length in one hand and rolling the condom down it with the other. I let him slap back against his stomach and he twitched again as he cursed, “Damnit, Lemon.”

I gave him a sickly sweet smile. Had he not looked so incredibly good imbued with such a level of desperation, this wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun as it was.

“Oh, she’s playing now,” he chirped at me, before looking at me dead in the eyes and stating, “If you had a different past, this would be going way differently.”

I moved forward, feeling the length of him settle between my pussy lips and I rolled my hips, the friction so good that I swear I could feel it in every inch of my body. The crown of his head dragged against my clit and I moaned as I asked him, “What would you do differently, Barbs?”

As I slid along the length of him again, coating him in copious amounts of my wetness, he hissed, choking out, “We wouldn’t have made it this far; for one, because I would have fucked you over the back of the couch.”

“Oh?” I quipped. I honestly didn’t know being this turned on was even possible and my hands went to my breasts of their own accord, holding them in my hands and rolling both nipples between my fingers.

Mark slammed his head back into the pillows, eyes screwed shut, as he took a deep breath and rasped, “Fuck babe, this is better than literally every fantasy I’ve ever had about you.”

“Really?” I breathed, rocking against him, enjoying hearing him say it. “I’m not really even doing anything…” As the pleasure coursed through my body, I could hear my voice falter and I was pretty sure that Mark was almost at a breaking point, if the tremor I could feel in his thighs underneath me was any indication.

“Really,” he confirmed, as I kept up my steady grind against him, his breath shallow as he continued, “What you’re doing is…..so fucking hot…” I felt him twitch against me as he confessed, “The only thing that could possibly make this better would be if I was inside of you.”

I raised up off of him and the action caused him to open one eye. Reaching between us, I angled his cock just right and started to sink down on it, pausing every few millimeters. Mark arched a brow at me as he watched, admitting, “Lemon, if you want me to beg for it, all you have to do is ask. But since you haven’t, I gotta know, are you trying to kill me?”

I shook my head, realizing that we were on two separate pages regarding my slow pace. “No,” I told him, “I’m just waiting for it to hurt.”

Mark looked at me pointedly and sat up, his arm sliding behind my thighs to prevent me from sliding down on him any farther. “Okay,” he began, “First of all, I think we need a rule: we don’t talk about previous experiences while we’re having NEW ones. Second of all, sex shouldn’t hurt EVER. I mean, unless it’s on purpose and you’re into that kind of thing. If you’re not into that, then it should never hurt. Do you understand me, Clementine?” His voice was firm and once again I had the feeling I may have trivialized something that wasn’t really trivial.

I nodded because I couldn’t do anything else.

He pulled me off of his cock and slid us both up the bed until his torso was resting against the headboard.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Mark smiled at me ruefully, bringing his lips to my neck as he whispered into my hair, “I thought I just needed to let you figure things out for yourself, but it has become glaringly obvious I need to be an active participant.”

My voice was soft as I responded, half scared and half confused, “I don’t know what you mean.”

We were still pressed closely together, and his hands trailed over my naked body, fingers teasing my nipples, as he directed me, “Kiss me, Lemon.”

I leaned forward and he moved his hands to knot in my hair, my breasts pressed against the hair on his chest as I kissed him. I kissed him deeply, trying to convey with my tongue just how much this all meant to me.

As we kissed, one of his hands slid between our bodies, his fingers slipping between my pussy lips and softly rubbing my clit. I may have mewled into his mouth, but I’d perjure myself in a court of law denying that.

While I was rocking into his hand, he grabbed his dick and angled it just right so that the tip slid into me as I rolled my hips. The sensation made me gasp, and I rocked harder, needing more.

“That’s it, babe,” he murmured, “That’s it.” His hands were on my hips, guiding me. I curled my hands into fists on his chest, wishing his hair was long enough to grab like this, but it was still short from a summer wax.

I needed him, I needed to feel full. I slammed myself down on him and he cursed in response, cautioning, “Fuck. Easy, babe.”

“Mark, please,” I whimpered, “I need more. I need you.” My hands unclenched, and I dug my fingers into his chest desperately.

His hands tightened on my hips as his punched up forcefully and he confirmed, “Ok?”

I nodded, almost delirious with pleasure as I begged, “More.”

He set a quick rhythm with his hips, and soon all that filled the room was the squelch of our bodies coming together and our sharp breaths.

“Fuck, I’m almost there,” he groaned, “Tine, touch yourself.”

One of his hands left my hips and he took my fingers and pressed them to my clit, “Cum with me,” he urged.

“I can’t,” I choked out.

“You can,” he encouraged, “Look at me.”

My eyes met his and he held my gaze as he continued, “I’m gonna get tested by the team doc tomorrow, because I can’t wait to fuck you skin to skin and fill you with my cum. I can’t wait to make you mine so you never have to worry about a man hurting you ever again. Even me.”

My voice was a whisper, as I whined out “Holy shit.”

“Now fucking cum with me, Clementine.” He punched his hips up hard and I came apart in a million pieces, like a stained glass window shattering from a bomb. He thrust into me irregularly until he sagged against the headboard and cradled me to his chest.

We lay there in a sweaty mess, panting, until I broke the silence, and repeated, “You want to fill me with your cum?”

“Lemon, I swear to God, if you ruin this perfectly good moment with some self-deprecating sarcastic comment, I’m going to tell Landy you think his magic is dumb.”

I gasped in horror, “You wouldn’t. Also, again with mentioning Landy in bed!!!”

He kissed the top of my head chuckling, “You know I would. Now, just lay there and be quiet and soak in the moment.”

We were quiet again for a long time, long enough that the sweat was starting to dry on my skin and giving me goosebumps. I shivered, and this time it was Mark who broke the silence, asking “Does Daze need dinner or something?”

At the mention of dinner, my stomach growled. “Probably,” I guessed, “I know I need dinner. Why?”

I looked up at Mark and he was staring in the direction of the door as he told me, “Because she’s been quietly staring at me since we finished. Honestly, she started even before that, and if you weren’t half as hot as you are, I wouldn’t have been able to finish.”

I chuckled against his chest and sat up, pulling my leg over him, intimately feeling the loss of him inside me. “I’ll go feed her if you order pizza,” I offered.

Grabbing his shirt from earlier off the floor, I pulled it on, though it hugged my body a little more than I would have liked.

“Babe,” he sighed, “That one is covered in cum, grab a clean one out of the drawer.”

I gave him a saucy wink as I sashayed out of the room, shouting behind me, “Maybe I wanna be covered in your cum.”

He fell over into the pillows laughing and I heard him grumble, “Fucking minx.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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