#systems that are 2 alters are normal

[isa-ah]

listen. "shigeo" and "mob" have separate identities, memories, relationships and ego states within his headspace... ritsu calls "shigeo" the "alternate version" of his brother....... plural mob real

[alters-journal]

Epic rap battles of history.

Alters with EDs VS Alters who love eating

FIGHT!

/dni proEDs/

[autistickfigure]

first time they meet. Technically. not really

[spoonietimelordy]

Trying to ingrave into my mind that I should not feel invalidated by other systems functioning differently. Most did systems don't know about p-did, when they say things that hurt it's because it's true for them not because they think we're doing it wrong or something.

[flock-system]

Okay so im on that ai app Chai and I was juat sorta fucking around. We got it cuz we were bored. Anyways I found my source character on there and was talking to them and I broke the bot.

Let me know if you guys want to see the screenshots of me convincing a bot to stop pretending to be a fictional character.

-Iggy

[welldrawnfish]

So these last few days has been.. Turbulent. DIFFERENT

I think I may be a System? Infact I KNOW I am a system at this point, but Im also not ready to accept that. Well a part of me isnt, and the other parts of me are like… uh duh of course you are. 

*A system in this context refers to the collective consciousness under the DID / OSDD Umbrella, I dont know the correct terminology in all of this, so im so sorry If i I mess up. I don’t necessarily want to give myself a label, there's .. brain scans and stuff I can get to prove it. And I need those, thats the only way I know this is real. But for now, for my own mental health I am treating it as if it were.. “real “ And I dont really know… what to expect…? I want to find something, ANYTHING, on I guess.. Systems waking up? But I cant find it. So I’ll just do this here Im gonna dump out all our thoughts onto some comic pages and we will figure it out.  I had a bit of an awakening roughly.. 5 days ago, and for the sake of convenience gonna use Plural/System terminology - There are alters, I have met them, the have names and personalities and some of them are really fuckin annoying i just want to punch him in his TEETH

Anyways, since the alter awakening moment, my brain has been in TURMOIL parts of me accept this, parts of me dont, i keep feeling like my face is like shifted 2 inches to the right and everything gets fuzzy in the real world. Not that these alters have names like.. Files are getting sorted  into these proper figures and everything is getting explained and figured out. And its making me feel like I'm not me anymore?

Like I always would argue and barter and fight with my own thoughts, but that's the thing, they wer thoughts, voices in my head with just like, distinct personalities. I just saw it as a different part of me?? Figured that was normal.

But now they are.. stronger ? OR maybe because i'm more aware of them and the personalities I can tell whos out now and like.. Obviously they are happy to get some facetime with the world properly?? But like.. Am *I* just aware of it, aware of them now, aware that it is not just *I* but *We* and so noticing it more, I'm resisting even harder? We feel more fractured than ever.

I have a good friend helping me out, another system, I owe them everything, maybe my life. (PLEASE FOLLOW @transpanda-1 BTW THEY DESERVE IT) They had a few amazing tips, but I cant keep bugging them about every anxiety on my mind thats not fair, so I’ll ask the whole community.

I guess what I want to know is.. Like is this normal? Do all systems go through this? What should I expect in the future and how do I make this more streamlined and stop.. Fighting it? I guess?

I thought I finally had myself figured out, just be the girl who makes the funny relatable trans comics… it was simple.

[requiemsystem]

ADVICE FOR NEWLY DISCOVERED OR SUSPECTED SYSTEMS

if you suspect you may be a system or have recently discovered that youre a system, things can be confusing and hard. im making this post as someone who has been aware of being a system for about 5 years and has been diagnosed for 2. these are things i wish we knew and did. i hope it will be helpful to some of you and i wish you luck on discovering things about yourself and your system keep in mind everyone is different and systems are no exception, so what i list here might be incredibly beneficial for one person but do nothing for another. find what works for you. i will try to provide a variety of advice in order for you to see what fits you best DO YOUR RESEARCH research the disorder, try to find others experiences and things you think would help you. this is especially helpful if you are suspecting and not yet sure if you have it, researching symptoms and others experiences can be very helpful in determining START SYMPTOM LOGGING this can be as simple as "i blacked out today" or "i dont feel like myself right now", you dont have to be identifying switches or putting names to alters, theres no rush to be able to do that and some systems have no desire to do that symptom logging is useful because it can help you identify potential triggers and patterns in your symptoms. for example, if you can remember what happened before a period of amnesia and remember being exposed to a stressful event or something potentially triggering, this would be worth writing down to see if its a recurring pattern REACH OUT TO OTHER ALTERS this can be done in a variety of ways, but the easiest way would be to leave a note in a place itll be seen. for example, a sticky note on a mirror (if you live with other people and cant do this, try leaving a note on your phone in a frequently checked app) i would advise saying something along the lines of "hello, i am (name) and i would like to communicate with you. i suspect we have a disorder called (DID/OSDD) and we share the same body and mind. please write back to me in (location, can be a notebook or app etc) and tell me some about yourself if you feel comfortable" but you can say whatever works for you. i just think the main points to cover are having DID/OSDD and introducing yourself as well as asking for an introduction in return START WORKING ON COMMUNICATION this takes a lot of practice, so i always say its better to build up early rather than late. we have a whole post on it that can be found here REMINDERS AND THINGS TO REMEMBER if you do not remember your trauma, do not dig for it. it isnt safe to try to remember trauma without professionals help. if you happen to remember, thats one thing, but dont intentionally seek out triggers to try to remember denial is common and not a sign of faking, if you were faking you would know and would not be in denial. being wrong about having DID/OSDD (if you are suspecting but not sure) is not the same as faking no two systems are the same. you dont have to look exactly like some other system you know or online to be real its normal to not know everything right away. you wont know all your alters immediately, you may not be able to access (and you may not have) your innerworld, you probably wont remember all of your trauma without professionals help, etc. its all normal its totally ok to keep information about your system private. there is no need to share with anyone you do not feel completely safe and comfortable with switching at any frequency is normal, there is no "correct" amount to switch. any amount of alters is normal, there is no "correct" amount of alters. any level of amnesia is normal, there is no "correct" level of amnesia apps like simply plural and bots like pluralkit can be incredibly helpful for some systems, but there is absolutely no pressure to use them if you do not feel comfortable - grey

[marzipanandminutiae]

I was just looking into the notion that widowers only had to mourn for 1 year after their wives' deaths, during the Victorian era, while widows had to mourn for two. because I've heard that a lot, but it seems to jive more with the Pop History version of the era where mourning existed because Imposing Rules On People Is Fun and All Marriages Were For Money than with the real version, inhabited by real people who idealized love matches and theoretically practiced formal mourning to show that they were going through something and needed gentle treatment

what I've gathered from a brief search for period sources seems to be:

one source from 1839 mentioned the "widows = 2 years; widowers = 1 year" thing

every other source I read (about 7, from various points in the era) implied or stated that the minimum normal period of mourning for widows and widowers was the same

That's a small sample size, but I still think it's significant

men's clothing could often be harder to visibly alter to reflect mourning, relying heavily on things like black cufflinks and collar studs that could be trickier to notice at first glance than. you know. a bonnet with a black veil over someone's face

a lot of sources talking about mourning clothes were fashion magazines aimed at women, and thus would be more likely to talk about women's mourning attire than men's

so my takeaway is that while some people at some parts of this 60-year period felt it acceptable for widowers to mourn for half the period of widows, many others at other times expected any bereaved spouse regardless of gender. obviously, in a highly misogynistic society, women's adherence to ettiquette could be much more scrutinized than men's; a widower who married six months after his wife's death would be looked askance at, but probably not subject to as much censure as a widow who did the same. and obviously, things don't go according to plan and the formal mourning system could of course backfire- forcing a woman into months of social seclusion for an abusive husband, for example

but.

the overall goal was to convey "handle with care" to the outside world. for many people, widowers were expected to need as much care as widows- and therefore to mourn for the same length of time

[balioc]

Oh, boy! It's Education Theory o'Clock again!

...I have a lot of thoughts on this topic. At some point, when I'm less busy and tired, I should probably try to write them up. Natively, I'm one of the school-is-a-nightmare-prison people, like so many others in this little discourse-sphere -- but I'm married to a middle school teacher, so I regularly encounter both the good arguments from the other side and the facts on the ground, and those things have altered my perspective somewhat.

But I am, in fact, busy and tired. So for now I'll just content myself with saying:

School is an institution that serves many, many, many purposes at the same time. A lot of those purposes are load-bearingly important. (A couple of years ago, I wrote this about college, and...it's double-plus true for primary and secondary schools.) If you don't try to account for all of that stuff in your theory of What School Is and How School Works, you will generate incoherent garbage thoughts. If you have a New Concept for school entailing top-down design that is optimized for a single function (like "increasing test scores" or "causing kids to love learning" or whatever), you'd better have a plan for how you're going to do all the other important things that schools do. And even if you think that some of those things aren't actually important or necessary, you'd better have a plan for dealing with all the people who disagree. Because...

-----

...school, as it exists today, is an inherently political institution. Both in the "soft" sense that everyone has strong opinions about what it's supposed to do and how it's supposed to work, and in the "hard" sense that it is actually controlled by democratically-accountable governments. (This is double-plus true in the US, where it is controlled by local governments, and therefore doesn't even have the protective insulation of a massive bureaucracy.) Everything about the way schools work is a compromise brokered amongst ideologues and self-dealers. Everything about the way schools work involves a lot of decision-makers trying not to get yelled at by the yelliest people around. If you're looking for elegant purpose-driven top-down design, you won't find it. You could probably make a case that any elegant purpose-driven top-down design would be better than the thing we actually have, but getting there would require finding a way to remove the political element.

-----

Most importantly: public schools are (1) compulsory, (2) universal, and (3) for children. [People who are legally children, anyway, whether or not they are actual children in whatever sense matters to you.]

This means that they cannot let students leave, and they have to keep control of all the students that they aren't allowing to leave.

In the most literal not-a-judgment-but-a-fact sense, they are indeed prisons. They are coercively keeping people inside. They have to do that thing, as per their most fundamental mandate within the current system. The alternatives involve letting kids run around unsupervised, and/or failing to give some kids even the most cursory kind of education, and those things are absolute non-starters under present conditions.

All the normal institutions-for-adults operate on the principle of -- If you really don't want to be here, you can leave, and deal with whatever consequences there may be for leaving. This is not an option for schools, and that fact accounts for...everything.

Classroom structure is built around the necessity of keeping the most-hostile, least-engaged student in the class present and supervised, and then trying to prevent him from disrupting things for everyone else. Because the obvious solution that any other institution would use -- "just cut him loose, he doesn't want to be here and we don't want him here" -- isn't available.

(I once talked to my wife about the rationed bathroom access thing, which is one of the most flagrant nightmare-prison aspects of the school experience. Her response was, "If you let kids use the bathroom whenever they want, as much as they want, then you don't have mandatory universal education anymore. Some of them will never return to the classroom, because they don't want to be there." Which is...obviously true.)

So you have something that replicates many of the features of prison, because it has to accomplish the same basic tasks that prison accomplishes. Yay, Foucault.

[theswiftheartsystem]

Guide to Pluralkit

So pluralkit is a tool used very commonly for plural systems. Basically what it does is proxy who’s speaking (this can have an alters name, pronouns, a custom profile picture, ect.) it’s very easy to use once you get the hang of it!

Step 1. Make yourself a private discord server. The reason why is because that way it’s easier to edit and save what you need in the server.

after this you will need to add pluralkit to the server. You can do this by going to the website (https://pluralkit.me) or clicking the bot in a server you share with it, and adding it to your server.

Okay so after that, set up your server. All it needs is the channels you guys need. Obviously general can be whatever, we use it for bot commands. Would recommend a system chat channel, especially if you cannot speak internally. Other channels that might be helpful, or channels to store picrews and things of that nature, we have one for storing alter intros, if you don’t want to have a psychical diary, you could start one in the private server, and basically anything you need. The idea is that this server only has you guys in it

Step 2. Okay so you’ll need to set up a system now. To get started you’ll need to do pk;s new keep in mind you can only have one system per discord account, and only 1k members (we have heard you can request more in the discord server, but we haven’t tried it ourselves)

Most system servers require a system tag. To set one you do pk;s tag (tag here) tags can be anything in a character limit. Ours is 💙. Some servers don’t like when people have the same tag, so if you need to change it in a server you can do pk;s server tag (tag here)

After setting up your system to add a member you do pk;m new (members name) keep in mind you want it to be one word with no spaces or hard to use symbols. This is so it’s as easy as possible to edit. Also would like to add, if you throw in a image while doing this command, it will set that alters avatar without having to do another command (image below is a random image we had saved) if you are like us, and have alters that share names, it’s best to just add a number (no space still) infront, this makes it way easier to edit.

To set up a display name you do pk;m (members name) dn (what you want it to say, we normally have name and pronouns, and if a alter has like a specific role in the system, sometimes that gets added if the alter wants it)

If you accidentally set the wrong profile picture, or a alter wants a different one for whatever reason, the command is pk;m (name) avatar and then insert the photo

Finally to set a proxy do pk; (member name) proxy (proxy here)text (the text can also be behind the poxy, it just has to be behind or above) proxys can be anything basically! We usually use emojis, although whatever you do, make it something you don’t use. For emojis we have one or two emojis typically that represent the alter, and then the blue heart emoji in front that way if it’s a emoji we use a lot, it isn’t going to proxy us by accident. You can either do the proxy everytime you speak, or do a few commands.

Pk;ap latch this latches to the last used proxy. Good when one alter is having a conversation, but others aren’t.

Pk;ap (name) this latches to the alters name that is used. Does not change until turned off, or switched to a different alter, or auto proxy command.

Pk;ap front this command sets whoever is set as fronting as the auto proxy. The front is set by doing pk;switch (name) To turn off all of these the command is Pk;ap off

Step 3. With pluralkit you can add alters to groups!

To make a group you do pk;g new (groups name) like with the base names you want it to be one word, no spaces or weird symbols.

with groups you can set display names, descriptions, avatars, just for that group!

pk;g description (put the description you want with the command)

pk;g avatar (photo)

pk;g dn (name)

To add members to the group do pk;g (groups name) add (name) (name 2) you can add as many as you want, just make sure to not use commas or and, just name after name separated by a space

Step 4. To set a system/alter description and banner is pretty easy.

For system:

pk;s description (desc goes here)

pk;s banner (add image)

For Alters:

pk;m (name) description (desc goes here)

pk;m (name) banner (add image)

Step 5. Finally, some good commands to just know.

If you react with a question mark emoji on an alter using pluralkit, it gives you information about the person. (Username, ect)

If you have a member you feel needs to be private the command is pk;m (name) private

to delete a member you do pk;m (name) delete and then enter in the code it gives you

to change a alters base name, (not dn) do pk;m (name) rn (new name)

A fun little pluralkit game is going “pk;r (random silly thing here)” Pk;r randomly picks a alter, so putting a random caption over it can be fun sometimes.

if you do set a alters name as something with a space, you’ll have to edit it in qoutes. (Pk;m “Example name with a space” (command)

to look up a list of alters do pk;m list or pk;s list

Thanks for reading! Pluralkit is confusing at first, so we thought we would make a simple guide!

-Carrie + a few others

[projectionistwrites]

FOR SCIENCE | SUBJECT 2

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

Marc Spector x afab!psychologist!reader (11.0k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: fetishization of mental disorders (DID), psychoanalysis, potentially unethical scientific practices, SMUT (dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f! and m!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, squirting, creampie, bondage, intense edging, reader is very mean, facesitting/riding, 69ing, praise kink, dirty talk, use of the stoplight system) NOTES: time for everyone’s favorite babygirl. again, i really hope i did marc’s character justice. also, you can’t tell me marc wouldn’t look so pretty crying for you. i kinda went feral on this one. <3 DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!

← previous part | next part →

CASE STUDY: MARC SPECTOR

ROLE IN COGNITIVE SYSTEM: Host / Apparently Normal Part

ATTACHMENT STYLE: Fearful

CHARACTERISTICS: cocksure, standoffish, pensive, calculating; resilient to a fault; views himself as irredeemable in the face of his past, unworthy of forgiveness or compassion; must be in control of every situation in order to feel secure.

SPLIT FROM HOST: N/A

TRAUMA RESPONSE: tendency to run when facing emotionally distressing situations

SEXUAL PRESENTATION: dominant, assertive, deliberate, practiced, indulgent; derives majority of satisfaction from his ability to draw pleasure from his partner; cognitive blockages that are reminiscent of self-sabotage (undeserving of release or pleasure).

“You’re early, Doc.”

Marc teased—he was leaning against the doorframe with a smug smirk on his face, successfully blocking your entrance into his flat. You felt your face heat up beneath his devious gaze.

“I know.”

Your words were softer than you’d intended them to be, more hesitant—Marc’s eyes narrowed at your wavery response.

He wordlessly stepped to the side, allowing you to finally slip past him and into the threshold of the apartment. You paused in the entrance as the door clicked shut behind Marc. He narrowly avoided colliding into your form as he turned, his arms jutting out to brace himself against you to prevent either of you from stumbling. His hands gripped your biceps, his chest pressed against your back. Your body tensed under his touch, and he let out a low chuckle, slipping past you and further into the space.

“Jesus, you’re touchy today. Everything okay?”

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied you. The movement was so easy, so casual and relaxed, as if this was just like any other time you’d hung out at his place—as if you weren’t there just to get into his pants. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you glanced down at your worn sneakers. It felt...different, this time. With Steven, you knew there would be a learning curve for both of you. You knew that, to some extent, you would be the one calling the shots, making Steven feel safe and comfortable. But now...you were intimidated. And ashamed to admit it.

You must’ve been quiet a beat too long, because the next second, Marc was in front of you, standing toe-to-toe. When you didn’t meet his eyes, his left hand came to nudge your chin upward, forcing your gaze upon him. You gulped, but his dark eyes were softened with concern.

“Hey. You gotta talk to me, Y/N. What’s on your mind?”

You blew out a breath.

“No, it’s nothing, I’m just—”

“—nervous?”

Marc finished for you, and you squeezed your eyes shut in an effort to prevent yourself from seeing the satisfied look on his perfect face.

“Yes, Marc, laugh it up. I’m nervous.”

“Hey, I didn’t even—”

“Yeah, but you were gonna.”

You snapped with a glare, but you felt guilt punch through your gut when a look of hurt crested Marc's features. You sighed.

“Shit, Marc, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“I am, too, you know.”

You blinked once, then twice.

“You’re...what?”

He rolled his eyes, huffing out a bitter, humorless laugh, as if he thought you were toying with him. When he saw the genuine confusion on your face, he threw his head back with a groan.

“You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed, but when you finally realized what he meant, you felt a small smile creep onto your face.

“Wait—you’re nervous?”

Marc shrugged sheepishly, and you could see a bit of color rise to his cheeks—was he blushing?

“You’re telling me—Marc Spector is nervous?”

“Yeah, and who’s laughing it up, now?”

He quirked a brow, giving you an accusatory look, and you giggled at him, the tension melting away from your body easily.

“I’m not laughing at you, Marc, I’m just—why would you be nervous? Especially around me?”

He shook his head at you incredulously, taking a few steps closer. You felt your back press up against the door behind you, successfully trapping you in Marc's vicinity.

“S’that so hard to believe? A pretty girl like you, coming over to study how I am in bed—even if it’s just for science?”

Marc wiggled his brows theatrically, and you laughed again, shaking your head. Still, there was blood pumping loud in your ears as he spoke, and you could feel electricity crackle in the air between you, charged with energy.

“Yeah, for science. But—you have pretty girls over all the time to see how you are in bed.”

“Yeah, but s’never been you, has it?”

The words were barely audible, muttered lowly beneath his breath, but you felt your jaw slacken at his quiet confession. Your eyes flitted up to his, and there was that cheeky, self-satisfied grin on his face again—fuck, he was too handsome, you just wanted to—

“Can I just fuckin’ kiss you, already?”

He was close, now, his warm exhales mingling with your own. His brown eyes glittered onyx as he drank you in, lips parted just slightly, the tip of his nose barely brushing your own. You felt faint, the proximity dizzying as temptation sank its teeth into your flesh. With the faintest nod of your head, Marc took the plunge.

You’d never had a kiss quite like this one before. Of course, Steven’s was great, but it was exactly what you’d expected—a desperate clash of teeth and tongue, the two of you battling your insecurities to fall into a steady rhythm. But this—this was fucking special. Marc’s hand slipped behind your head to thread through your hair, his other arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You were frankly surprised at the tenderness with which his lips found yours, starting with a barely-there brush of his mouth. It was sweet, and raw, intimate, and you felt his lashes flutter against your cheek when he pulled away too soon.

You were breathless, your face following his as he drew back, desperate to maintain the contact. He chuckled at this, but remained close, eyes finding yours again.

“Still nervous?”

He asked, his voice low and gravelly. His eyes seemed darker as he smirked down at you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Your eyes flitted down to his mouth, your breath catching in your lungs at the sight. Something resembling a squeak involuntarily escaped your throat.

“Marc. Please.”

You whined, big doe-eyes glimmering, and Marc scrunched his face up as though he was in pain, eyes squeezed shut tight as he groaned. He rested his forehead against yours.

“Shit. You really gonna make it that easy for me, baby?”

He practically hissed, and a breathy laugh blew past your lips. Marc captured your mouth with his again, harder this time, the hand that was in your hair reached up to brace himself against the door above your head, successfully caging you in. You hummed against him as his tongue passed through the seam of your lips, sinking into you further. Your desperate hands reached up and clawed at his chest, gripping the navy blue fabric of his cotton t-shirt in your fingers as you held him close. He pressed himself into you, and you could feel the hardness of his bulge flush against your lower abdomen. A moan escaped you at the feeling of his arousal, your body instinctually thrusting into his hold. You could feel him smile into the kiss.

“Yeah? You feel what you do to me, huh, baby?”

He teased against your lips, and you tossed your head back, thudding against the door behind you. You looked down your nose at him, through your lashes, panting slightly, your hands still twisted in the material of his shirt.

“Fuck, Marc, want you so bad, just—”

Your words died on your breath when his arms abruptly slid beneath your butt and hoisted you upwards, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck. One of his large hands stayed firmly squeezing the flesh of your ass, the other roamed the length of your back as he pressed his lips against yours again, turning to walk you further into the apartment.

“Jesus, this is gonna be fun.”

He mumbled at your eagerness and responsiveness, your hands threading through his brown curls as he brought you towards the bed, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You gasped when he threw you back onto the mattress abruptly, your body bouncing once at the contact, causing you to giggle. But then Marc was stalking over your body, hovering above your body with a predatory look in his eyes. He licked his lips as you blinked up at him.

“Gonna take my time with you, pretty girl. Gonna absolutely ruin you.”

You impatiently pulled his face back to yours, and he didn’t resist, kissing you back with equal fervor and desire as your own, but the moment you lifted your hips to seek friction from his body, he pulled away, tutting at you condescendingly.

“Ah, ah, ah. Relax, baby. Don’t torture yourself.”

He smirked, fingers dancing across the skin of your stomach beneath the hem of your shirt. You reacted immediately, lifting your arms above your head to allow him to pull it from your body.

“Look at you—so obedient.”

His patronizing tone normally would’ve pissed you off, but there was something about the look in Marc's eyes—completely enraptured with you, ready to give you the world—that made you want to do whatever he said. He reached behind your body to undo your bra, fingers nimbly unhooking the clasps as he yanked it off of you, his face immediately sinking into your cleavage. He groaned, lips frantically attaching themselves to the flesh between your breasts, wandering across the expanse of the newly-exposed skin and wherever they could reach.

“Oh, baby. Got such pretty tits.”

He growled, teeth playfully sinking into the skin at the top of your right breast, earning a yelp from your mouth as he quickly soothed the sting with a swipe of his tongue, smirking up at you. The heat of his mouth was enough to briefly distract you from his wandering hands, but then he was yanking your pants down your legs in one fell swoop, leaving you bare save for the plain pink cotton panties you’d worn today—they weren’t particularly sexy, as you had been trying to prevent your apparel from serving as a confounding variable, but Marc still looked like he wanted to devour you.

His rough hands ran up the plush skin of your thighs, over your hips before squeezing at your tits, making your back arch up and off the bed. A dark chuckle sounded from above you.

“So eager.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to your mouth, and you felt his hands travel down your body again, teasingly fondling at the waistband of your underwear as you sighed. You let your own hands travel beneath his shirt, running your hands along the warmth of his toned abdomen, coaxing him out of the material. You were happily surprised when he honored your silent request, allowing you to pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the side. His expression flickered for a moment as you admired him, his eyes briefly shining with a certain warmth that you couldn’t decipher. He pressed his lips to yours, a soft, sweet kiss, but when he pulled away, the wicked gleam in his eye had returned.

“Gonna make you feel good, baby. You want me to touch you?”

Your nod was frantic, your head pressed back into the pillows as you forced your body to stay still beneath him, even as you desperately wanted to rut up against his jean-clad thighs.

“Yeah, you do, huh? Bein’ such a good girl for me, baby—you gonna keep behavin’ yourself? Gonna let me take care a’ you?”

You whined, desperation starting to pulse through your limbs, making you want to squirm.

“Yes, Marc, yes, just—please—”

He shushed you, his lips pressing hotly beneath your jaw before continuing down the column of your neck, down your sternum, across your breasts, and finally stopping above your navel. He hummed into your skin, the vibrations causing a chill to pass over your spine, goosebumps rising in their wake. He lifted his hands to spread your legs further apart, granting him the space to lay between them so he was face-to-face with your clothed core.

“Fuck, baby—soakin’ for me already.”

You could feel his hot breath against the cool, damp material of your panties, and you jolted when his fingers lightly pressed against the wet spot, the pads of his digits just barely swiping over your folds. Your toes curled and legs tensed, trying hard to withstand Marc's slow, relentless teasing. He seemed to be enjoying it, a dark chuckle escaping his mouth at your reaction.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

He requested lowly, hands pressed against your inner thighs to hold them apart in front of him. You tried to make your voice steady.

“Marc, please, just—”

His fingers harshly curled into the flesh of your thighs, creating divots in the soft skin as you flinched. He gave you a warning glare.

“You never struck me as the bratty type. C’mon, baby—tell me what you want.”

“You, Marc, fuck—want you so bad. Always wanted you.”

You flinched at your own confession, but Marc responded with a throaty growl.

“Oh, yeah? Thought this was just for research, hm?”

You felt his nose brush against the crotch of your panties, and you whimpered, your hips lifting of their own accord. Marc’s hands gripped your waist tightly and slammed your ass back into the mattress, pressing you down firmly.

“That’s enough.”

He warned, suddenly strict, and you swallowed, trying hard to resist the urge to sink your hands in his hair and force him towards where you needed him most.

“Fuckin’ greedy little thing. I’ll give you whatever you want, pretty girl—just wanna hear you say it.”

You bit your lip defiantly, feigning confusion at his request, and he growled again, teeth sinking into the flesh of your hip right above the waistband of your panties. You jumped at the sensation, letting out a sharp cry, and you felt the vibration of his chuckle through your skin.

“Go on, Y/N. Tell me the truth. Tell me how bad you want me.”

Your resolve shattered.

“Want you so bad, Marc. Wanted you since the day I met you. Wanted you to bend me over the desk in my office, wanted—wanted to get on my knees for you right there on the bus. Got off to the thought of you fucking me so many times, Marc, shit, please, would you just—”

He practically ripped the panties from your body as his mouth finally surged forward to steal a taste of your sopping cunt. You yelped in surprise when his tongue swiped through your folds, and Marc wasted no time in sinking two fingers into your throbbing entrance, already beginning a relentless pace within you.

“Oooh, FUCK, Marc—”

You exclaimed, hips thrusting upward at the sudden stimulation, and Marc’s strong arm reached up to press down on your stomach, forcing your movements to halt.

“Sit fuckin’ still—want you to cum all over my fingers, baby.”

He muttered against your clit, lips wrapping around the bud to suck harshly. Your orgasm was rapidly approaching already, the pleasure mounting and mounting with each sudden thrust of Marc’s thick fingers, each move deliberate and practiced. You were mewling beneath him, back arched harshly as he continued his pace, dark eyes watching as your face contorted into a look of pleasure.

“That’s it, baby, can feel you squeezin’ my fingers, fuck—you gonna cum for me?”

Your climax peaked easily and you let out a long sigh as you let the waves of pleasure overcome your senses, only acutely aware of Marc’s gentle praises being muttered against your throbbing cunt as your became pliant beneath him.

Your muscles began to loosen after your sudden and intense orgasm, but the sensation didn’t last for long—Marc wasn't stopping. His tongue had replaced his fingers, thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy, his nose nudging at your clit in a move he must’ve learned from Steven, the cheeky bastard...

“Fuck, Marc, shit, I can’t—”

You couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, but he held you down securely, not allowing you to pull away from the intense stimulation he was still offering.

“Color.”

The sound was muffled, mixed in with the sinful slurping noises he was making, and your cloudy mind took a few moments to process his request, but as his fingers pressed harder into the divot of your hipbone, you threw your head back to respond. Stoplight.

“Green, Marc, but—God, fuck, s’too much, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will.”

Your eyes met his from his position buried in your mound, and the sight of his hungry eyes and the tone of his demand were enough to send you rapidly toppling over the edge yet again. The high-pitched wail that you let out was shameful, but Marc didn’t pause, watching you closely as you came apart on his tongue yet again.

As you came back down to Earth, he finally offered you a moment of reprieve, coming up for air to press a bruising kiss to your lips. The tangy taste of your arousal on his lips made your face flush hot.

“Taste so sweet for me, baby. Gonna give me another?"

You hummed, mind still foggy with bliss, but then his fingers were ghosting over your swollen clit, swiping carefully in circular motions on your tender flesh. Your head lifted to press into his shoulder, and he chuckled wickedly, increasing his pressure as you writhed beneath him.

“That’s it, baby, doin’ so well.”

He praised, hot lips pressed to your ear, and you could feel heat pool in your lower belly, red and hot and seething. Your lip was pulled between your teeth, hard enough that you could taste the metallic tinge of blood on your tongue as Marc sped up his pace. Your fingers wrapped around his arm, trying to pull him away, but his muscles flexed beneath your hold, and the overstimulation quickly made way for yet another stuttering orgasm, your cunt clenching around nothing as your teeth sank into the flesh of Marc’s shoulder, body twitching uncontrollably. You heard him hiss from the bite to his skin, but it quickly evolved into a groan as he turned his head to the side, littering your jaw with open-mouthed kisses as sweat dappled your face.

“There we go. Good girl, baby. Good girl.”

He cooed, finally pulling his hand away from your core. He lifted his slick-coated fingers and pressed them to your lips, and you absent-mindedly obeyed, sucking his digits into your mouth and lapping up the residual arousal from his knuckles. He hummed in approval, your face utterly fucked-out and eyes hazy. He pressed a soft kiss to your nose before sitting upright above you, his hands making quick work of his belt buckle as he pushed his jeans and boxers down simultaneously.

“Think you’re ready for my cock, pretty girl?”

Your legs were still quaking with aftershocks, your thighs sticky with wetness from your prior orgasms and Marc’s saliva. Still, even with exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, the sight of Marc’s cock standing at full height, ruddy and weeping, was enough to inspire a nod of your head.

“Want you—fuck, Marc, want you inside me, please.”

“Sound so pretty when you beg for me, baby.”

Marc crept forward on his knees, stroking his cock with practiced precision as he slid between your split legs. You felt the head of his member slide experimentally through your folds, nudging at your clit. You bristled, the heat of his hardened length jostling your shot nerves. You nearly cried at the contact, hips pressing into the mattress and away from the pressure, but then the tip notched at your entrance and you wanted nothing more for him to sink into you. Before he pressed further, though, he slipped fingers beneath your chin, turning your head to look at him. Your lip was quivering with want.

“Color?”

He rumbled, brown eyes gentle, and your ass lifted upwards, trying to force his cock further into your awaiting channel, but Marc pulled away completely, drawing a long whine of protest from your chest.

“Easy, baby. Say the word, and I’ll fuck you just how you want. But I need to hear it.”

You swallowed, fingers sinking into his curls, and your voice was hoarse when you spoke.

“Green, Marc. Fuck me, please.”

Your swollen folds made way for his thick length as it sank into you quickly, bottoming out in one swift thrust as Marc groaned throatily.

“Oh, fuck.”

He growled, eyes squeezed shut tight at the sensation of your tight walls fluttering around him. His balls pressed firmly up against your ass, and Marc reached down to grip one of your ankles, hoisting your leg high above your head so the front of your thigh was to your chest. He offered a slow roll of his hips, his cock nestling tightly into you as he snapped them forward.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby—so fuckin’ tight.”

His pace started to build, and soon he reached for your other leg to hold it above your head, effectively folding you in half. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper within you, the head of his cock prodding at something devastating. You were moaning shamelessly, now, incapable of forming coherent words at this point as Marc continued to pound into you, his teeth bared as his hips pistonned forward.

“Always wanted to fuck you like this, baby. Knew you’d make the prettiest noises for me, knew you’d let me do whatever I wanted to you. You gonna gimme another one, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?”

A sob ripped through you at his words, your hips thrusting upwards to meet his strokes. He had one hand wrapped around each ankle, braced over your head as he railed you into the mattress, the bedframe creaking under the strain. You felt your stomach coiling yet again, but your body was resisting, so overstrung and sensitive that your muscles felt like they were on fire. Still, Marc’s pace was relentless, and you couldn’t stave off the overwhelming need for release as you started to fall apart.

The groan that Marc offered was animalistic as your pussy clenched down on him, hard, throbbing rhythmically as you surrendered yourself to the onslaught of shockwaves that pulsed through your core. You felt faint, weightless, the crux of heat in your center exploding.

“Oh, fuck me, baby, oh my God, did you just—”

His words dissolved into a growl as he pounded into you harder, and it was only as you slowly regained your bearings that you could feel the slickness coating your thighs and Marc’s abdomen—you’d squirted all over his cock.

“Jesus, not gonna last much longer, baby, so fuckin’ good.”

His head was bowed, curls falling into his eyes as he rammed into you, balls slapping against your asscheeks with each thrust. Punched-out moans passed through your lips surreptitiously as you tried to maintain your focus, although your consciousness was slipping away.

Marc’s left hand released your leg and you felt his fingers swirl over your clit again.

“Gonna cum for you, baby, but you gotta gimme one more, first.”

You sobbed, body lurching off the bed as if you were possessed, your knee curling over his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck, Marc, I can’t, s’too much, please, just want you to—”

“Not gonna cum until you do.”

He spoke through gritted teeth, a hardened determination glinting within his crazed eyes. You drank him in—sweat dripping from his curls, nostrils flared, lips pulled up in a snarl, veins in his neck straining beneath the skin with his effort. His pace abruptly switched, his rapid thrusting replaced with a few slow, deep, and fucking bone-rattling plunges within you, the sound of his skin roughly slapping yours filling your ears. The change in tempo was too much, you were spiraling, and with a guttural cry of his name, you felt a blissful numbness erupt from within. Marc threw his head back as you clenched around him once more.

“Oh, fuck, baby, yes, yes, so fuckin’ good, God—”

You watched through half-lidded eyes as he pulled out of you hurriedly, hand reaching down to jerk his cock rapidly as he finally allowed himself to reach his release.

“Fuck, gonna cum all over you, baby, yeah, you ready? You want my cum?”

You nodded, whining greedily, your legs settling down on either side of him as you raised your hips towards him so you could feel his knuckles brush over your pubic bone with each rapid stroke of his cock. The desperation in your eyes is what hurled him over the edge.

“Fuckin’ take it, baby, I’m cummin’ for you, oh, fuck—”

His spend spilled all across your mound, spraying upwards over your stomach and some droplets even landing themselves atop your tits as he continued to jack himself off above you, deep grunts passing through his parted lips with each spurt of cum that he coaxed out. He was panting heavily, watching his white seed ooze across your skin and down his knuckles as he finally slowed the pace of his hand, squeezing one final drop of pearly liquid from the tip as he groaned, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours to catch his breath. You hummed, unable to open your tired eyes, but the intimacy of the action was welcomed as his lips just barely brushed over your own, a silent ‘thank you’ in the aftermath of an intense moment of passion.

You didn’t think it was possible to feel simultaneously weightless but so heavy at the same time, your limbs sinking into the damp sheets beneath you as you attempted to catch your breath. Marc nestled his face into the crook of your neck—an action vaguely reminiscent of Steven’s habit of nuzzling into you—and you felt him take a slow, deep inhale against your clammy skin, his warm breath fanning out along your collarbone.

You tried to stay awake when you felt his body peel itself from atop yours, but he returned moments later with a cool damp cloth to wipe away the evidence of both of your orgasms. You whined when the cold came in contact with the swollen, sensitive folds of your cunt before he moved up to wipe away his own release—Marc easily shushed you, pressing soft kisses against the skin after he wiped each spot clean. When he was finished, he haphazardly tossed the towel aside, crawling up towards you yet again.

Marc liked to be smothered. If you could take any one thing away from this moment, that’s what you saw—he laid down beside you, flat on his back, before rolling you over on top of him, your face pressed up against his pecs as your body settled between his legs. You hummed at the new position, his arms curling protectively around you, fingers of his right hand playing with your knotted hair. Your ear was pressed up against his chest and you listened to the steady rhythmic thumping of his heart, and you easily could’ve fallen asleep in an instant. Still, you wanted to enjoy the tenderness of the moment for a bit longer.

“You okay?”

Marc finally asked, and the vibrations from his throat reverberated down through his ribcage for you to feel. You breathed in long and deep, the feeling of his soft, warm skin comforting and familiar.

“’M great.”

You whispered, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. There was a small adoring smile on his abused lips, his brown eyes sweeping over your face in a way that only Marc could do—calculating, observant, as if he was looking straight through you. Sometimes, his unusual skill for reading people made you uneasy, but now, you felt completely relaxed beneath his scrutinizing gaze. It would be hard not to, when his eyes glowed as if you’d hung the stars in the sky just for him.

“…was that okay?”

Marc rephrased, and it was only then that you caught on to the insecurity he so desperately tried to mask. The crease between his brows betrayed him, making his concern for you evident. You smiled up at him reassuringly.

“Marc, it was great. You were great. You are great.”

Maybe it was the post-orgasmic bliss that had you feeling sappy, the endorphins boosting you higher into your serenity. The look on Marc’s face was heart-wrenching—the gratitude that shone in his beaming smile, the glow of his face as it lit up with pride, the—dare I say—love, in his eyes, as he gazed upon you.

A comfortable silence settled between you, and the hand that was resting against your back reached down to pull the duvet up and over the both of you, cocooning you in its warmth. You let yourself settle further into Marc’s welcoming embrace, eyes fluttering shut as you let your exhaustion take you. You quickly spoke before you found yourself dozing off.

“So…what’s your typical post-sex ritual look like after this, hm?”

You questioned, lifting your chin slightly to see his face. His eyes blinked open to look at you, and he frowned, pursing his lips.

“Believe it or not…with most of my, uh, hookups, I—uh, I have the tendency to leave in the middle of the night so I’m not there when the girl wakes up—gotta leave ’em wanting more, y’know?”

You laughed breathily at that, but hoped to hide how crestfallen his admission made you feel.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try to sneak out after you fall asleep—”

His arms tightened their grip around you, and there was a sort of pleading look in his big brown eyes as he shook his head.

“No, you don’t have to do that, really, I just thought you should—”

“It’s really okay, Marc, I don’t mind.”

You assured with a shy smile, but he shook his head more firmly this time.

“No. You aren’t just a hookup, and you aren’t just some girl.”

Your lips parted in a silent gasp, eyes searching within his to try to gauge his thoughts. He seemed genuine, insistent. Your heart practically melted in your chest.

“But, I don’t—”

“Please, just stay?”

He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, and certainly hadn’t meant to plead—this was more vulnerability than he’d ever displayed to you before, something you’d ached to see for as long as you’d known him. For him to open up to you, to trust you, to finally let you in.

You mustered up whatever strength you had left to lift yourself up and press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. You gazed up at him through tired eyes, face aglow from his apparent affections.

You didn’t give him a verbal response—you didn’t need to. Instead, you settled back in against him, curling your head into his shoulder, pressing your face against the warm skin at the side of his neck. Sleep came easy for both of you—Marc felt lighter having finally let his impermeable facade yield to you, even if just for a second.

Tomorrow, you intended to convince him to drop his guard completely.

POINTS OF CONTENTION: - relinquishing control - embracing uncertainty - asking for help

TREATMENT: - practice submission - express vulnerability - communicate needs

You briefly got déjà vu when Marc opened the door to his apartment for you, a familiar cheeky smirk adorning his handsome features. This time, however, your expression matched his own as you stood on your tiptoes to plant a peck on his lips, pushing past him and into the flat as if you owned the place. He was startled at your forwardness, and he would be lying if he said your surge of confidence didn’t make him slightly uneasy—what had gotten into you?

“Back for more?”

He managed to quip, quirking a brow at you as he shut the door behind him. You approached Gus’ fish tank and tapped the glass a few times to get his attention, leaning over to watch him swim around aimlessly for a few seconds—it gave Marc a perfect view of your ass through your yoga pants as you bent down, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared unabashedly.

“I can see your reflection in the glass, you asshole.”

You jabbed, a teasing smile lighting up your face as you met his gaze in the mirrored tank, but he didn’t stop his shameless ogling—instead, he watched you with darkened eyes, a wicked grin on his lips.

“At least I don’t have to hide the fact that I stare at your ass every time I see you, anymore.”

Your brows lifted at his confession, and you carefully straightened up, turning to face him at an agonizingly slow pace. Your hands found your hips as you studied him with an amused expression. You stood across from him in challenge.

“So you admit that you’ve checked me out? Even before this little experiment?”

Marc fought hard to keep the smirk off of his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, sizing you up carefully to gauge your seriousness. You were clearly teasing him, but he offered a subject change nonetheless in an effort to avoid the fact that he just admitted he’d been eye-fucking you since the day you’d met.

Instead, his eyes flickered down to the small black paper bag that you had set by your feet, his brow raising in question.

“I see you brought props with you, this time?”

He closed the gap between you with two large strides, bending down to snatch the shopping bag from your feet before you could protest. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he peered inside, but his eyes widened when he realized what you’d brought.

“Jesus, Y/N. You dirty, dirty girl.”

His fingers reached in to pull out a pair of black silky restraints—it didn’t go unnoticed by Marc that the receipt was in the bag and the fabric still had a tag fastened to it. You must’ve bought them just for this occasion.

The expression on his face was practically carnal as he smirked at you, but something about the look in your eyes made him hesitate. You looked up at him shyly, reaching forward to thumb at the fabric before settling your hand into his open palm atop the silk.

“They’re not for me.”

Four words, and Marc was stunned into silence. His face fell, eyes wide as they studied you, expression bemused and slightly fearful. You swore you could actually see his face drain of color.

“We don’t have to, Marc, I promise—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just spring this on you out of the blue, I’m sure it’s not something you’d normally—well, I mean, not that I know what you’re into and everything, but I just thought it might be—”

“Slow down, baby, it’s okay. I just—took me by surprise, s’all. Wasn’t—wasn’t expecting it.”

You looked up at him thoughtfully, now hyperaware of the trepidation in his features. He avoided your eyes.

“Come on.”

You grabbed his wrist softly and guided him over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and gesturing him to follow suit. He sat down beside you and carefully turned to lay out the two black restraints on the mattress behind him. Then, he turned back to you, eyes gentle. You reached over to pull his hands into your lap.

“Marc.”

You started softly, and his eyes flitted to you nervously, an uneasy lopsided smile on his face.

“Listen to me. We really, really don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable. I know it’s—it requires a lot of trust, and—well, I don’t know.”

You fell silent, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. Marc was giving you that familiar calculating stare, taking you in and analyzing every breath you took. You grew impatient with his lack of response.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

There was an apprehensive edge to your tone, your eyes round and full of worry, afraid to offend him or make him uncomfortable. You could see the gears turning in his head as he pondered.

“And this... of anything in the world you could possibly want to do with me, to me... this is the one thing you’d choose?”

You carefully nodded your head, squeezing his hands in your own.

“I think—I think this could be good for you. If—if you’re up for it, of course. No pressure.”

He hummed at your reply, before he turned to you with a small smile.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

You blinked once, then twice, surprised at his easy response.

“Wha—really? Are you sure?”

“I trust you.”

Maybe those words were just that—words. But you couldn’t help feel your eyes grow glassy as the gravity of his admission weighed on you, your heart soaring in your chest as you smiled widely at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. The glow radiating from your face made Marc’s shoulders roll back with pride—he would do anything just to see you smile at him like that.

Apparently, that really did mean anything.

You leaned over and kissed him deeply, hand sliding to cup his face as he pulled you against him, sliding you atop his lap easily as he sucked at your bottom lip.

You settled down onto his thighs, your core easing over his hardening bulge as you pressed your front into him, your pebbling nipples brushing against his chest as you kissed him feverishly. His hands held a bruising grip on your hips as you grinded against him, feeling his hold tighten with every brush of your clothed core over his growing erection.

He hummed when you pushed on his shoulders, coaxing him to lay back against the mattress as you pulled his shirt over his head easily. You guided him towards the headboard as you continued to kiss him, settling him carefully onto the pillows in the center of the bed. You drew your head back quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you drank him in—his dark umber curls a stark contrast to the white downy pillows beneath his head, his brown eyes darkening as he watched you with half-lidded eyes, spit-soaked lips parted. You’d never seen a prettier sight—and you knew how to make it even more enticing.

Your fingers traced up his chest and danced across his shoulders. You kissed him to distract from you sneaky movements as you reached behind yourself to retrieve the pair of restraints that had been discarded earlier. You let your nails skate across his nipples, causing him to hiss, before you gently pried his hands off of your hips. You grabbed each wrist carefully, intently watching his reaction as you guided them over the top of his head and towards the headboard.

You grinded down against his cock once more in an effort to relax his body—he groaned quietly, and you reached for one of the restraints, pulling his left arm straight out to the side and carefully winding the fabric around the bedpost before reaching to fasten it around his wrist. You watched his jaw ripple as you carefully looped the silk over his skin, tightening it just slightly to prevent his hand from slipping out. You tugged at the fabric lightly, testing its resistance, before you leaned back down to peck his lips.

“That okay?”

You asked carefully, nose brushing against his, and he squeezed his eyes shut, tugging against the binding before offering you a soft nod. You smiled at him graciously before repeating the action on his right arm, successfully rendering him incapacitated beneath you, his arms spread wide on either side of his body. You allowed yourself to draw back once more, the sight of him splayed out atop the mattress, completely at your mercy, caused a wave of arousal to rush straight between your legs. He must’ve felt the clenching of your thighs from where they caged his hips in, because he let out a breathy laugh.

“You like this, don’t you?”

His voice was low and hoarse, and you kissed him again, nodding against his lips.

“Yeah, Marc, I do. So pretty for me.”

You felt the warm huff of air that he let out at your praise, and you knew he secretly loved your verbal affirmations, even if he’d never admit it to you. You offered him one last kiss before slowly dragging your face back—his head followed your backwards movement, chasing the feel of your mouth against his, but he jostled at the feeling of his movement being restricted. His eyes opened suddenly at the sensation, as if he was surprised to find the restraints actually lived up to their name. You couldn’t help the tiny grin on your lips as he accustomed himself to his limited range of movement—you could feel the tightness in his muscles, his biceps flexing and tensing as he mindlessly fought to gain control back.

“Easy—you’re okay, I’m right here.”

You soothed, running your hands up his torso as his abdominal muscles contracted beneath your fingers. There was sweat beading at his hairline, his jaw grinding rhythmically as he finally opened his eyes to look up at you, forcing himself to inhale a steady breath in an effort to calm himself down. Your fingers rubbed at the tension in his shoulders and you felt him soften under your touch, becoming pliant beneath you as he allowed himself to settle back into the mattress, finally coming to terms with his current situation. You rewarded him with a kiss, leaning yourself forward so your front was pressed to his.

“Before we start, I need you to promise me something.”

His eyes followed you when you sat back upright, and he nodded for you to continue. You breathed.

“Marc. You have to swear to me that you will use the safe word if you need to.”

He rolled his eyes in response, but you squeezed your thighs together in response, putting an uncomfortable pressure against his hips. He glared at you, but you gave him a stern look.

“I’m serious, Marc. I don’t want you to think—to not use it just because you want to make me happy, or because you wanna seem like a big tough guy. You do make me happy, and I know you’re tough, regardless of whether or not you choose to tell me to stop. Okay?”

He could hear the sincerity in your tone, the genuine concern lacing your words. He swallowed. He wasn't going to lie and say it wouldn’t be hard for him to safeword—he didn’t like admitting defeat, showing weakness or cracking under the pressure. But this wasn’t some mission or fistfight with an adversary, he reminded himself—this was you. He was safe, and he trusted you, and he was supposed to enjoy this. Finally, he nodded at you, and you mumbled out a ‘thank you’ before pulling yourself off of him completely.

He watched you like a hawk, eyes trained on you intently, analyzing your every move in anticipation. You carefully reached for his waistband, and he obliged, lifting his hips from the bed to allow you to undress him. You pulled his briefs down in the same motion, discarding Marc’s final two articles of clothing and leaving him bare before you.

His cock was at full mast, resting atop his navel as he drew in slow, deliberate breaths, trying not to feel bashful beneath your scrutinizing gaze. You were still trying to fathom the fact that you had this Adonis of a man splayed out in front of you, completely surrendering himself to you.

He really had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

“Color?”

You asked, kneeling back on your heels from your position beside him, one hand resting on his abs, just above where the head of his cock was patiently waiting. He breathed out a chuckle.

“You haven’t even done anything yet.”

You raised a brow, and at your persistence, he offered a roll of his eyes.

“Green.”

“Good.”

You smiled, fingers sliding down from his stomach to ghost over the tender skin of his shaft, causing a shiver to crawl up his spine. You were careful to take note of just how his body reacted to each ministration—the way his breath hitched when you finally wrapped your hand around the base, the barely-audible grunt when your thumb swiped the bead of precum from his slit.

You removed your hand briefly just to spit into your palm before you were back on him, beginning a slow and gentle pace of stroking him. He hummed at the motion, his heels digging into the mattress as he threw his head back into the pillows, fingers wrapped around each restraint tightly to give himself something to grip. Your other hand reached over to fondle his balls, and his hips jerked just slightly at the added stimulation.

“S’that feel good, baby?”

You purred, your hand gradually picking up speed as your jerked him. He groaned lowly, nodding at your question.

“Shit, yeah.”

You smirked, carefully shifting so you were kneeling in between his legs, lowering yourself down to lay on your stomach. He watched you closely, bracing himself as you leant forward and suckled one of his heavy balls into your mouth, your other hand continuing its steady pace.

You hummed around his sack and he grunted, abdominal muscles flexing as you popped it out of your mouth and traded it for his other bulb, tongue swirling around the flesh and listening to his small moans of pleasure.

He was trying to stay quiet, you noticed. You didn’t press him on the issue—you knew he wouldn’t be quiet for much longer.

You pushed yourself up and licked a long stripe from base to tip, tongue flicking over his frenulum which caused his hips to quake. You offered a few kitten licks to his slit, tasting the salty precum as you continued to stroke him steadily.

“Fuck, baby—just like that.”

He whispered, eyes squeezed shut at the sensations. He was holding himself back—you wanted him to fall apart.

You carefully drew the head of his cock past your lips, bobbing your head up and down over just the tip, matching your pace to that of your hand. He growled, and your eyes flitted up to watch his biceps strain as he tugged on his bindings, desperately wanting to bury his fingers in your hair. You sank your head lower, taking him deeper, lewd choking noises escaping your lips as you swallowed him down. His hips were weakly thrusting upward, now, his feet planted into the mattress to seek leverage in a sorry effort to fuck into the heat of your mouth. You didn’t stop him—you let him cling to the sliver of control he was desperately seeking, removing your hand to sink your head down completely, allowing him to thrust his cock into the back of your throat with his shallow movements.

“Oh, fuck, baby, fuck.”

He moaned, and you could see the muscles of his stomach clenching as you reached to fondle his balls again. You were breathing in carefully through your nose as he continued to abuse your throat, his length sliding in and out of your mouth sloppily. One sharp thrust caused you to gag and he let out a deep groan from somewhere in his ribcage—you could feel his balls tightening up, thighs flexing.

“Yes, baby, gonna cum in that pretty little mouth, yes—”

You sat up abruptly with a gasp, pulling your body from his completely as his limbs involuntarily jerked beneath you, his back arching at the sudden loss of contact. He yelped, and you could see veins bulging in his arms as he harshly pulled against the restraints.

“Jesus fuck!”

He cried out, hips falling back down into the mattress, defeated. You sat silently, watching as he tried to catch his breath. He blinked the bleariness from his eyes to fix his stare on you—there was a somewhat sadistic shine in your gaze as you met his eyes challengingly. When you didn’t back down, you were surprised when he let out a bark of a laugh.

“So this is your game, sweetheart? You gonna edge me? Really?”

He was trying to intimidate you—you could see right through him. He was mocking you, hoping to berate you into submission, into backing down. It wouldn’t work.

When you didn’t respond, he shook his head lightly, feigning composure as he lazily closed his eyes.

“Go on—have your fun.”

He offered, a small smile on his lips. You felt anger briefly flare up inside you, but you quelled it down with logic—you were in control, right now. You had all the power.

It didn’t matter how disciplined Marc’s psyche was—his body betrayed him. It told the truth. Your hand reached back up towards his shaft, and his cock jumped beneath your touch, thighs tensing just slightly. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from giggling with satisfaction—Marc’s face was set into a look of quiet concentration, lips pulled into a straight line.

You started again, the same way you had before, with your spit-soaked hand slowly escalating until your lips joined in. His noises were subdued—they came from deep within his chest, escaping through barely parted lips only when he was powerless to stop them. He writhed beneath you, responsive to your touch, and when the telltale signs of his approaching orgasm began revealing themselves again, you ceased your movement.

“FUCK!”

He yelled, back arching off the bed as he attempted to curl into a sitting position, but he was snapped back into complacency by the fabric bound to his wrists. There were veins bulging in his neck as he seethed, sweat beginning to bead along his hairline. You blinked up at him innocently as he glared at you, eyes dark and filled with disdain.

“So fuckin’ pleased with yourself, huh, baby? This what you wanted? To rile me up? God, if I wasn’t tied up right now, I’d—”

“You’d what?”

He blinked at your interruption, your voice showcasing your defiance.

“What’re you gonna do, Marc? Nothing. You’re not gonna do anything. You’re gonna sit back, and fucking take it, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

His jaw clenched down tightly, his face practically trembling with rage. His nostrils flared as he stared at you, trying to win the silent battle between you, in complete denial of the fact that you were completely in control. He wasn’t backing down, unwilling to admit that he was powerless—so you reached forward and scratched your nails down the length of his shaft. He shouted in protest, hips jolting backwards to retreat from the uncomfortable sensation, and he growled lowly in his throat before sagging back into the mattress—his eyes were still on you, but his lips were sealed shut.

“That’s what I thought.”

You antagonized, leaning down to take his cock back into your mouth. It was taking increasingly smaller increments of time to get him to the edge, and you continued—once, then twice more. On the third round, he’d nearly lost it, but you squeezed around the base of his cock tightly to force the orgasm to dissipate as it peaked.

“You fuckin’ bitch.”

He snapped, and the words seemed to surprise him just as much as they surprised you. A heat of the moment utterance, offered in a second of desperation—but he didn’t take it back. Maybe you should feel hurt—instead, you felt pride swell inside you as you stared down at him wickedly.

“Such mean words from a guy who can’t even see me through his tears.”

It was true—there were tears streaming down either side of his face, eyes red and puffy as he fought viciously against your torture. He shook his head at you, overwhelmed with anger, but he couldn’t hold back the sob that practically pulled itself from his lungs when you gave a single lick up his shaft.

“Oh, fuck you, fuck—”

“You can cum whenever you want, Marc. I’m not stopping you.”

You tone was even and steady, expression blank as you studied him. His brows furrowed, his eyes suspicious as his breathing slowed again. You smiled coyly at him, innocently, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips—he didn’t kiss you back. He just watched you as you carefully resumed your position between his legs, waiting to hear your stipulation.

“You just have to beg for it.”

Marc’s venomous laugh was replaced with a long whine as you took his cock in your hands once more, stroking him a few times before simply holding him there. He sneered at you.

“I don’t beg.”

“Then you don’t cum.”

You shrugged easily, releasing his throbbing member from your grasp and allowing it to drop back down against his stomach. You could see every muscle in his body fighting for release—his heels digging into the mattress, his arms continuously straining against their restraints. You tutted at him condescendingly, your eyes mocking sympathy as you stood from the bed. He studied you carefully as you began to remove your clothes until your were completely naked. You rejoined him on the bed, loving the way his eyes turned ravenous as he admired your body.

“If you wanna torture yourself, Marc, that’s your choice.”

You purred, crawling up until you were straddling him. You watched the way his breath hitched when you were hovering over his cock, and you felt it jump beneath your cunt—but instead of dropping down, you crept further upwards until you were straddling his ribcage. He looked at you, confused.

“So what are you gonna do?”

His voice was gravelly and hoarse, raw from the moans you had been pulling from him. You leaned down and shoved your tongue into his mouth—he whimpered at the intimacy, but you pulled away soon after.

“I’m gonna ride your face, and you’re gonna be a good boy and make me cum on your tongue.”

The whine that he let out was carnal—you’d never heard anything like it in your life, and Marc might’ve been embarrassed if it weren’t for the painful arousal that was burning a hole through the bottom of his stomach. He tilted his head back as you began to position yourself over him, lips already parting in anticipation of tasting you, but you paused, your eyes turning gentle. Your hand reached down to stroke through his damp hair, and he pressed his head into your touch.

“Color?”

You whispered, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat at he swallowed. He breathed in once, then twice, before meeting your eyes again.

“Green.”

You settled your knees on either side of his head, your folds already soaking from your time toying with Marc—you shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath on your awaiting cunt, and with trembling thighs, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself onto his mouth.

You lurched forward at his eagerness, his tongue immediately breaching your entrance and slurping up the arousal that was flooding your pussy. You yelped in surprise, arms reaching forward to grip the headboard as you tried to keep most of your weight off of him, allowing your face to just barely skate over his features.

He mumbled something into your core, and you lifted yourself from him in concern, worried that you'd hurt him.

“What?”

You asked for clarification, brows furrowed, but when you met his eyes from between your legs, they were dark and gleaming savagely.

“I said, sit the fuck down.”

He growled again, and you could feel the headboard bend as he strained against the fabric on his wrists, obviously wanting to grab your waist and pull you down onto his mouth with full force. You let out a breathy laugh before you eased your way back onto him, allowing yourself to relax more against his face. The thick muscle of his tongue immediately began fucking into you and it wasn’t long before you were grinding against his face, his nose rubbing up against your bundle of nerves and his mouth savoring your juices. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, and Marc watched you from his position between your legs as you came apart on his tongue, quiet cries of his name leaving your lips as your rode out your high on his mouth.

Marc greedily lapped up all you had to offer, and he almost whined in disapproval when you began picking yourself up off of him—but then you were turning around, and he got a perfect view of your perfect ass as you slowly settled your cunt back down to his mouth and—

Fuck. He nearly cried into your pussy when he felt your lips attach themselves to his cock, and he jostled against you, hips jolting upwards of their own volition. He squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, trying to fight the orgasm that he was already teetering on the edge of. You hand came up and squeezed tightly around the base of his cock, helping stave off his climax.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

You hissed, and Marc gulped before diving straight back into you cunt, his lips wrapping around your puffy clit as he suckled it into his mouth and flicked over it with his tongue. You moaned, you fingers beginning to stroke his cock again. When you turned your attention back to his length, however, his mouth immediately stopped its movement. You sank against him, rolling your eyes in theatrical annoyance.

“Jesus, you really can’t multitask, can you?”

“Y/N.”

He spoke your name lowly and with a warning edge, and you craned your neck to look at him—his head was peaking out from behind your asscheek, eyes desperately searching yours. You could see he was struggling to maintain his composure, but he kept his voice level and steady.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”

He voice cracked at the very end of his statement, but you appreciated his honesty with you. You swiftly removed your hand from where it was wrapped around him and he let out a long sigh, steeling himself before attaching himself to your clit once more.

Your second orgasm came easily, creeping up and washing over you without warning as Marc continued to lavish your clit with his tongue, the obscene noises he was making only adding to your arousal. He slowed his movements as you came down from your high, lapping at your release as you slowly pulled you cunt away from his mouth. You pulled yourself off of him completely, kneeling at his side and pressing a sweet, gentle kiss against his lips. His face was coated in your slick and his eyes were alight with a sort of lovesickness, as if he’d completely forgotten the torture you’d been putting him through simply because he got to watch you fall apart on his tongue. You pressed your forehead against his for a moment before you swung your leg over his hip, finally settling yourself where he needed you most.

Anticipation flickered in his dark brown eyes, his body tensing beneath you as you reached between your legs to stroke his cock, using your dripping arousal as lube to give him a few tentative strokes. He hissed, his hips jumping at the touch, but he immediately froze when you pressed the head into your entrance. He held his breath.

“I’m gonna ride you now, okay?”

You asked, although it was less of a question and more of a statement. He nodded vigorously, eyes squeezed shut and head turned to the side as he braced himself for the feeling of your hot channel swallowing him whole.

“Marc.”

You probed softly, and he winked one eye open, looking up at you where you were paused, right in the moment before sheer bliss. You eyed him warily.

“Color?”

He smiled softly up at you, more relaxed than he’d been this whole interaction—finally, finally relinquishing his control and allowing you to take the reins.

“Green.”

The duet of moans that filled the room was intoxicating as you slowly eased yourself down onto his rock-hard length, the stretch offering a sting that was just painful enough to be pleasurable. Marc’s head was thrown back into the pillows as he began to ramble incomprehensibly.

“Oh, God, oh, fuck yes, so fuckin’ good, fuck—”

You braced yourself by planting your arms against his sturdy chest, raising up your hips until just the tip remained before slamming yourself back down, burying him to the hilt within you. A wrecked sob sounded from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, God, I can’t—”

You settled into a steady pace, angling your hips backwards just slightly so his cock rutted up against that place deep inside you that sent you reeling. You keened, grinding back and forth against him as he moaned wantonly, knuckles turning white as he pulled on the restraints with every ounce of his strength. You orgasm was rapidly approaching, and with each careful plunge of his cock into you, you felt the coil tightening.

“Fuck, Marc, gonna cum on your cock, baby.”

You whimpered, throwing your head back as your walls clenched down around him. You must’ve blacked out for a moment, your vision going bright white as pleasure speared through you—when you regained your bearings and sensation over your limbs, your ears were blessed with a sound you weren’t sure you’d get to hear.

Marc was falling apart.

“Please, oh, God, Y/N, baby, please let me cum for you, I can’t—can’t hold it anymore, please, please, please, baby, please let me cum, pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

There were sobs ripping themselves from his lips as tears flooded his eyes and streamed down his cheeks, the muscles of his abdomen clenched so tightly you thought he might sprain something. The fluttering of your tight walls against him was unbearable, truly torturous—he couldn’t do it anymore.

His eyes blinked open to watch you as your hands crept up the length of his strained arms, fingers deftly untying the knots that held him hostage to the bed. His arms fell limp at his sides when released from their hold, and he looked up at you with wide eyes, glassy with tears.

You pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Been so good for me, baby. Go ahead and take what you want, Marc, it’s yours. Cum for me.”

Something snapped inside of him. A vein throbbed in his forehead as his hands flew to your hips, planting you firmly against him as he began to thrust up into you at a rapid pace, his hips slamming against your thighs loudly and roughly. You yelped in surprise at his sudden burst of energy, and he was staring intently at the place where his cock was splitting you open, hips relentlessly pistonning upwards into you as he slammed your body down against him to meet each thrust.

You didn’t expect to cum again, but the harsh drag of his cock inside of you as his hands grounded you firmly sent you hurling across the edge, your cunt clamping down on his aching length as you pulled him across the threshold with you.

“Oh fuck, yes, yes, gonna fill you up, baby, cummin’ so hard, fuuuck—”

Each harsh pump upwards was punctuated with a grunt as he spilled inside of you, his cock pumping you full of his white hot seed as he continued pounding into you relentlessly. Even as you came down from the climax that had blindsided you, and even after he’d completely emptied himself inside of your slick walls, he continued rutting up into you, his face contorted in a look of pain and determination as he gritted his teeth.

“Woah, Marc, hey, hey, slow down—”

You urged, reached to wrap your fingers around his wrists from where they were still firmly attached to your waist, the wet sounds of his cock still pumping in and out of you filling the room. His eyes finally looked up to you, the haziness clearing as your worried face settled on him.

“It’s okay, Marc, you’re okay.”

You assured, and he finally let your full weight rest down onto him, his body slowly rolling to a halt as the aftershocks of his intense pleasure pulsed through his limbs, blood pumping loudly in his ears. He was breathing heavily, his heart beating against his ribcage harshly, but his eyes watched you as you smiled down at him, reaching forward to cup his jaw in one hand as the other ran through his sweaty hair.

“There we go. There you are. There’s my handsome boy.”

All at once, he collapsed into a fit of sobs again, sitting up to pull you against his chest impossibly tight as he wrapped his arms around you. You felt your heart break as you coddled him, one hand stroking the back of his head and the other rubbing soothing patterns into the bare skin of his back. Years and years of internalized vulnerability spilled out of him in your embrace, and you held him there until his stuttering cries turned into shaky exhales, his face buried in the crook of his neck. He fell back into the pillows, pulling you down on top of him and keeping you snugly pulled against his body.

His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, and you could feel Marc’s cum leaking out and creating a stickiness between your thighs and atop his hips. When you shifted to move, he tightened his hold, his breath wavering just slightly.

“Please, don’t. Just—stay with me. Like this. For just awhile longer. Please.”

He whispered against your temple, begging for this brief moment of reprieve, of absolution, of solace. You sank into his chest, breathing in his heady scent and allowing yourself to indulge in the intimacy of this moment, too—a moment of comfort, of safety, of resolve.

Marc had one final thought before sleep overtook him.

Is this what being okay feels like?

TAGLIST: @kezibear143 @gingermous @josephquinncore @steven-grants-world @am-3-thyst @fanofverymanythings @vaneyvfs @theboggyman @belladri @roserfz27 @nowayhomerry @justanotherkpopstanlol @bagsy-not-it @elles-mind-palace @pimosworld @winterbiip @moonmoonboys @icuminurbutt @spxctorsslxt @fandomqueen74 @freerangesweets @wumpsquill @wordacadabra @lunaleah @hornkneeforbucky @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[lefluoritesys]

A breakdown of apps you can use to communicate with your alters as separate people and write down information about them online and offline with their pros, cons, and a personal rating because I really needed it when I was new to being a system:

Note: by "PC" I mean any computer/macbook/etc. By "all devices" I mean PC, mobile, tablet, iPad, etc.

I apologize for mistakes in advance.

1. Antar: An app created to chat with your "inner self," found in both Play Store and AppStore. One of the more popular ones among systems. It is an app where you get to create personas that would be chatting with each other in chats called "sessions." Those sessions can either be given a name or just left named after the date they were created on. Each persona is given a color that would become the color of their messages in sessions. Offline app.

Pros: Fiarly easy to use, no in-depth information needed to access it fully. Biometric lock; 4 languages (English, Chinese, Hindi, Spanish) for the system, however any language can be used via text; no limit to the amount of personas added (as far as I'm aware). Messages sent by the wrong persona can be changed; the "quote" feature allows you to start a thread under a message; provides descriptions of each persona. You can also give your personas an avatar rather than just a color. Has a "replay" and "visualization" feature, though I'd say it's strictly just for funzies.

Cons: Not available on PC; has no backup, phone-related resets or deletion of the app results in all information lost. Session order constantly changes depending on which senssion you entered, which in my opinion (+OCD) is a nuisance; you can't delete the "me" character which I've been wanting to do for a while. Can't add hexcodes.

Personal rating: 6/10. If you need an app that you can lock from unwanted visitors, if you don't mind and even prefer something simple, and if you don't care that the conversations might disappear, this app is a good choice.

2. Discord's PluralKit: A more avdanced discord bot with tons of settings and commands that was created specifically for systems. Allows you to add almost any information about your system memebers, even such things as birthdays. The way it works is, it "proxies" your messages with a certain command somewhere in the "normal" message, sends a message identical to yours from a bot created with the name you chose, and deletes your original message. Basically replaces a message from your account with a message from a bot you created earlier. Proxies are small commands that give the both a green light to do that, and they can be whatever you want them to be. Online bot.

Pros: Feels like different people are talking; allows you to track your switches; available on all devices; one system can be linked to multiple accounts, although you can't create multiple systems under one account; allows you to group alters together; allows you to restrict access to certain information from all users; allows you to add as many alters as you want; has a number of ways you can access the information you put in which would all be sorted and organized for you; autoproxy allows you to not proxy every message you sent; since you can't delete messages of other people on servers that are not yours, and the bot messages are not, in fact, yours, PluralKit allows you to react to the message with an emoji that deletes the proxied message; while you can't use it in DMs, you can set up commands in DMs with the bot; every memeber has a unique code, and so does the system itself, and it records when the member was created; can be exported to SimplyPlural.

Cons: Commands are difficult and complex, and so is the dashboard; can only be used on servers; sometimes offline as all bots are, though rarely; you can't use it anywhere outside discord (a con for those who don't use discord); I had instances where I saw people use it for roleplay which is also allowed; proxies are a pain; you'd need a guide to tell you why certain things are needed in it; you cannot reply to messages with gifs when using a proxy; when being exported to SimplyPlural it exports everything, so if you had 10 members on SimplyPlural and 15 on PluralKit, it's best to add those 5 manually than delete 10 new exported alters (I did it with 100+ alters by accident and it was a pain).

Personal rating: 9/10. Complex, difficult to figure out, but once you get ahold of it and how it works, you'd be amazed. Also a pain that you can't use it in DMs, but it's to be expected from a bot. And you can always create a server with just you.

3. Discord's Tupperbox: A discord bot created mainly for roleplay, but actively used by systems who cannot get along with PluralKit. A simpler bot, easy to use and figure out, most things can be done via dashboard, doesn't have the opportunity to add a lot of inofrmation. Online bot.

Pros: Simple; allows grouping alters; allows different tags for different members and groups, sometimes individually; way simpler commands, and most things can be added via dashboard; looks and works almost the same as PluralKit when in a conversation; available on all devices.

Cons: Can't add avatars via dashboard, only using the commands; can't add two alters with the same name (which you can do with PluralKit); people reported it glitching out and deleting members; mainly used for roleplay; gives a weird list of members via commands that is unusable in my experience; doesn't work out of discord.

Personal rating: 7/10. Perfect for people who just want to talk and not write down information about them with the bot, but the threat of members being deleted, especially as a larger system, is concerning. We mainly use it for OSDD-1a subsystems. It was also not created for systems, as far as I'm aware. I see more cons than pros.

4. Simply Plural: Another more well-known tool used and created for systems. Simply Plural is an app that allows you to create profiles of your members and add any information you'd like about them via custom fields. It has a chat feature, allows you to track your front and switch history, add friends, and many more. Supports endogenic systems (which is being mentioned not for discorse purposes but as a fact. Whether you find it good or not is up to you) and allows singlets to create profiles as well, although I don't know a lot about that part. Both offline and online app.

Pros (and a bit about the app): Backup included; tracks your switches and front, allows you to change exact time for them, too (24-hour clock down to minutes included); the polls feature works like polls on same Tumblr and everywhere else but specifically for your system memebrs; analytics provide information about who fronts the most, during what time of day they usually front; you and your friends can see each other's profiles, which is why singlets can also create profiles, which allows you to acces info about each other's systems; "trusted people" feature allows you to pick whether you want everybody to see your alters or not, or if you want outsiders to see your profile at all; provides resources and guides to plurality (which I personally haven't checked, but still putting it in the pros, if somebody thinks I shouldn't, let me know); has an app reminders feature; you can add as much information as you want; front history shows up in a person's profile; alters can add notes; alter groups are available; available on all devices, however, only as a website on PC; colors of your alters can be used in the chat to highlight names; hexcodes are available; "custom front" is a status you set with fronting which can be hilarious sometimes; connects to PluralKit in a number of ways.

Cons: The chat feature is a bit difficult to use, and first time I did, I freaked out because I couldn't get out of it (the trick is to go to "channels" and press "navigation", there you'll see the dashboard); friends can't communicate with each other; copy-pasting is hard on both mobile and PC; something about the interface and navigation irks me and our visually impaired self; notes have same visibility as the profile itself, which is inconvenient if you want your profile to be seen but not your notes; avatars can't be added via website.

Personal rating: 6/10. I don't like how it looks and works (probably due to being visually impaired and other issues), but if you manage to get the information in it, it's pretty accessible and thoughtful of what systems might need. Could be used as a tool to start working with your system rather than do it long-term.

5. Twinote: An app that is your "personal Twitter." Pretty sure it was created for the purpose of having fun rather communicating with alters. Offline app.

Pros: Backup provided; allows "private accounts" that other "users" can't see; can create as many users as you want, as many posts as you want; can upload up to 4 images; works almost like Twitter; has a chat feature; comments, retweets, likes are present; "lists" feature allows you to group users and see only their messages which could be used for "things only protectors sent" and such; storage shows all pictures used in the app, so you won't lose anything; tagging and following people is still an option, and following private accounts give that user an opportunity to be the only one seeing their tweets.

Cons: Can't upload videos; can't do much with anything other than posts and profiles, so trends and other stuff there is off-limits (as far as I know); you have to constantly switch between profiles for the chat feature; share button only shares the contents of the message; very easy to accidentally press the wrong button and delete a tweet by dragging it left (which I almost did a few times).

Personal rating: 7,5/10. I know it's probably annoying that I didn't just type either 7 or 8, but the reaosn why is cause I have mixed feelings about it from a practical point of view. We use it strictly to communicate what we did during the day as a small journal and just joke with each other, and it's incredibly funny in itself, but it doesn't allow you to write down a lot of information about your alters and has a character limit in profiles. So it's strictly for communication.

6. Notion: An app created as a dashboard for literally everything you could ever dream of. You can personalize it however you want and use it for whatever you want. Those who saw the post we made a while ago probably know the reason I'm mentioning it is due to a template that I linked here. Online app.

Pros: Can be used for literally everything without limits; available on all devices; big and has enough storage for a lot of information, text, projects, etc; can be designed however you want; a lot of useful templates for all life instances (even taxes); can be shared with people who also use Notion in a variety of ways (either only comment, only see, etc); can add your own custom covers and icons via both gallery and links; looks neat and doesn't mess with visual impairment for us; can add a page in a page in a page which can be used for diaries; links to different pages on other pages are also available; endless possibilities, I could rant all day.

Cons: Glitches on the phone a lot; certain things are allowed on computer and not on mobile and vice versa; all templates available only on PC; you need to have an account in order to use it; glitches if it's offline; sometimes deletes a bunch of text because of glitches, usually the triggers for it are writing a lot in it directly or erasing previous text a bunch of times; can't invite someone in your space, it would take too much storage; some storage needs to be bought, although, I don't know the limit (but there's a lot. Like, a lot)

Personal rating: 9/10. With all its antics, I love this app dearly, it's incredibly useful, and you learn to deal with the cons. It's the best one I've used for communication and information storage so far.

7. Texting Stories app: As ridiculous as it sounds, it could be used as a tool to communicate with your alters, especially in secret. We are fighting for our safety here, so I ask you to take this suggestion seriously. Could be used when you don't want to let anyone know you're a system and have noisy family members/relatives/etc who like to snoop through you personal devices, by using it, you can say you've just been doing a story. Offline app.

Pros: I believe you can add as many people as you want; can add avatars; different stories can be different days of the week; easy to use; easy to brush off as "just making stories."

Cons: Can't change colors, you need to pay for most things.

Personal rating: 5/10. Can be used for emergencies and communication only, although we haven't used it much.

8. Notes: Just the same plain old notes app on your phone that everybody has installed as default. Offline app.

Pros: Easy to use; can be easily lost within your other notes for privacy; used for literally everything you desire, even drawing; automatic backup.

Cons: Doesn't give you the ability to really present as separate people; doesn't have as many options as Notion.

Personal rating: 5/10. used it at some point just for communication, was cool, somple, easy, but nothing too big.

I hope this helped to put these apps in perspective. I do apologize for it being a bit all over the place, but I did attempt to make it coherent enough (I am currently in a psychotic state, it's difficult for me to communicate). And remember, there are always options to use a written journal rather than a digital one. If anything, it's better to keep both in case one gets lost. Who knows, maybe our parents asking us what we would do if the internet disappeared is actually a warning. /j /nm

-host

[anameistoohard]

Oh boy, lets open that can of worms

There's a LOT of discourse with endo vs anti-endo stuff (endogenic system=plural system not formed by trauma if you don't know 🙂). Like, death threats coming from both sides kinda thing. We try to stay out of it. But it's easy to accidentally stumble into it if you're not familiar with some of the nuance. So we want to share some observations as like, a crash course. (And apparently we had a lot to say lol.)

This post isn't really to debate how plurality forms. Just to give some context as to why so much hate is flying between these two groups.

Basically, you have 2 extremes. (And everyone in between obviously)

On one side you have people making up extra rules on top of the diagnostic criteria to exclude and gatekeep anyone who doesn't meet "their level" of disordered. (I've literally heard people say "you can't be a system, you're not as traumatized as me"). A lot of accusations of faking come from this bunch. Too much internal communication? Faker. Too many non-human alters? Faker. Too many or not enough alters? Faker. You can't win with them even if you have a diagnosis.

We've noticed a lot of parallels between this group and transmeds. You need to have x level of dysphoria to ride this ride. You can't be trans if you don't want xyz treatment. You need to reach my arbitrary bar of "trans enough". Enbys and everyone else are fakers. That kind of bs.

But on this side you also have a lot of people who just want to be taken seriously. They want to be validated by their diagnosis and feel hurt when people say or do things that they think will compromise that validity. They, at least initially, come from a place of sincerity not malice. But they fall into the trap of trying to be "one of the good ones".

On the other extreme you have the wild west. Things people treat as fact aren't codified with the same scrutiny as the DSM-5 or ICD-11. This breeds its own confusion and misinformation. We've seen people conflate plurality with things like maladaptive day dreaming, lucid dreaming, adhd, and (applying it to other people with ferocity to the point of harassment) metaphors of all things.

They have a spaghetti at the wall approach that reminds me of a less extreme MOGII (an attempt to define just about every possible form of gender and sexuality). It's a messy patchwork of ideas. We've seen 8 different labels that all mean the same thing and are being used by exactly no one. Redundancy and hyperspcificity, that's the name of the game. But frankly we like this if for no other reason than we want to see what sticks, what becomes mainstream.

We've seen people from this group attack people as badly as the anti-endo group. Openly mocking people for having trauma or saying vile shit like "traumagenics kys". They feel threatened by the exclusionary nature of diagnoses. But instead of taking their frustration out on the systems of power they take them out on normal people. After all if you're diagnosed, you "represent the system"... I guess. Equally bull shit.

But this is also where the edge cases go, the exclusions, those that don't fit into a neat little box. The DSM excludes people whose plurality is accepted as part of their culture or religion. These people don't suddenly stop being systems just because they're accepted, but they're distinctly not disordered. They don't meet the clinical definition of DID or OSDD. Same goes for someone whose symptoms are mild enough to not cause "clinically significant distress". You also have people who don't want to be pathologized or have been failed by the medical system.

So lastly, a warning: When dealing with plural stuff, it's very easy to go stumbling into a mine field.

Tldr: I would always rather land on the side of letting too many people in than exclude people who needed the support. However, no matter your in-group, some people take things too far. Like, ffs don't attack people. 

-Taylor & Mark

[pluralcultureis]

Plural culture is just vibing and then seeing a singlet explain why you shouldnt self diagnose being a system and you just having. To sit there like. 'Bitch what I am I gonna do, pretend my alters dont exist? I tried that once and it was beyond detrimental to my mental health'

SINGLETS. PLEASE. GOOD GOD. Yes being professionally diagnosed is better than self dxing BUT 1. I HAVE MET SYSTEMS WHO HAVE TRIED TO BE DXED AND TURNED DOWN and 2. not being professionally dxed doesnt magically make your symptoms not impact your life until you are. Omfg.

A diagnosis is an *explanation* and something you can use to get accommodations, its not something that gives you the disorder fucking hell

Ppl in general just need to understand a diagnosis doesn't mean you start having something, it means you've had it the whole time.

And a lot of ppl DO notice their symptoms first. In fact, with ALL of our mental disorders (depression, anxiety, PTSD, paranoid personality disorder, ADHD, autism) we had ti self diagnosis first!!

We had to bring up that we thought we might have something, and want to figure out if we're right or not and then figure stuff out from there!

And ya know what, if you're wrong the worst that would happen is a therapist can help you figure out what it really is, and then you get help with that!

Also diagnosis can be expensive! Or unavailable! Or the only ppl you can afford/reach don't believe in your disorder, or aren't educated enough on it, or any other reason and then someone can't get a diagnosis!!

Self diagnosis means you recognize something isn't normal, and you can find ways to make you function in a way that benefits you.

[fictionkinfessions]

A long (I apologize for the length) response to https://www.tumblr.com/fictionkinfessions/748773698635513856/ive-seen-enough-asks-on-here-about-the-topic-so?source=share

Aka "get therapy systems" anon.

1) Please don't tell us what to do. Some of us are already in therapy. Some of us have trauma surrounding therapy. Sure it's not normal... FOR YOU. That's dangerous and abelist thinking. It's comparable to saying neruodivergent people need to be in corrective therapy because they're "not normal." (Which is a disgusting thought process! And we here are already in therapy!)

2) We can kin whomever we want and have as many kins as we want. For copinglinks, there might be a plethora of characters helping cope with things in life. For systems, we all have our own exposure to media at varying levels. And for spiritual kin, time is not linear and someone can have infinite number of kins. But we have more important topics to touch on and I'd be happy to get into that later.

3) How would you like it if we told YOU to get therapy? Because coming into a safe space for people who ARE systems and HAVE many kins, seems insane to us here in this system.

4) You're correct in the fact that ADHD, Autism and CPTSD can cause dissociative episodes but guess what? DID and OSDD are caused by repetitive traumatic experience in childhood. Which did you know? Being neurdodivergent and not getting your needs met due to lack of communication/understand and overstimulation (amongst other various factors) can be considered traumatic? Especially to children? It sounds like you've done BARE BONES research into dissociative disorders and have made assumptions based on research into neurodivergency. (And we are a nerurodivergent system so we've had to pay attention to the differences and sort things out in therapy!)

5) Final note from a system (THAT'S OVER 30 BTW), don't ever get upset over systems with over 100 alters because that system might just have a low split tolerance or has experienced a lot of different traumatic events and need a lot of extra support.

SO TLDR; instead of coming into a safe space and being an asshole, show compassion to people who have clearly GONE THROUGH IT. Kindness and understanding helps heal more than harsh words. I hope you have a lovely day and learn a lot more that will help open your mind further in the future.

x

[ivystoryweaver]

The Box (Fluff edition)

Read the NSFW version My Masterlist

Summary: You have a secret to share with Marc. A box under your bed. But he may have one too.

Paring: Marc Spector x gn!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Notables: One-shot. This story has 2 versions. This is the f l u f f version. (It also has more plot). The story starts the same, but completely changes after the divider. (dividers by saradika)

Warnings: fluff, mention of reader in danger, cursing, not beta'd

Sometimes you can know someone so well and still be completely blindsided by their secrets. But some secrets really aren't that big of a deal. Right?

Marc, your boyfriend of six months, had asked you to move in with him.

You had a shitty roommate anyway, so you were ecstatic. Plus Marc lived much closer to your job.

Some of your friends - the few who always had something to say about Marc - cautioned you that it was too soon. That you didn't know one another well enough. You calmly explained to them that you had spent practically every waking moment with him for the last 187 days. These were the friends who labeled Marc too quiet, grumpy and when they were feeling especially rude: boring or moody. (Maybe you needed new friends)

Your other friends encouraged it. They knew how crazy you were about Marc, and their opinion was that you could really get to know someone by living with them. These friends saw how Marc was protective of you - always walking you where you needed to be, always waiting for you after work. They enjoyed his rare but funny jokes, and appreciated his poker skills.

A few of them, guys and girls alike, were absolutely crazy about his American accent.

"Who knows what kind of things you'll learn about Mr. Mysterious?" Your best friend teased. That's what she liked to call Marc, even to his face. Well, she wasn't wrong.

Marc had trusted you with all manner of personal information, including the fact that he was actually a system. Just last week, before he asked you to move in, you met Steven. Marc told you Steven was his alter.

You started to wonder what Marc could even see in you. He was this complex, well-traveled, multi-lingual retired solider. And he definitely had that mysterious vibe going. Hadn't he met so many other interesting people?

His answer was that you always accepted everything he told you, as if he were completely normal. And that he loved you.

So given the fact that your relationship was solid, loving and secret-free (for the most part), why were you so nervous to tell him about your teeny tiny, little secret? It couldn't be more interesting than his background.

So why couldn't you show him your box?

Since you were a kid, you had inadvertently collected a box of...comfort items. It was kind of embarrassing. However, Marc always put his trust in you, right?

So you decided, if you were going to live with Marc and share a closet with him - it was time to either get rid of The Box (not likely) - or show it to him. You were certain he wouldn't even bat an eyelash at the items inside or the thought of you using them. He would probably be all for it.

Your favorite item was something you typically only used it when Marc was gone on a trip, or on an occasional night alone, if you had trouble sleeping.

He was coming over tonight to help you pack up your kitchen, since there was no way in hell your shitty roommate would ever help you. You had already asked him to spend the night, so the situation would lend itself to this exact conversation.

"I have to tell you something."

Marc was relaxing on your bed - one hand behind his head and the other, stretched out to hold yours. Having shed his hoodie after working up a light sweat packing your entire kitchen, his almost-too-tight t-shirt sleeves wrapped deliciously around his biceps.

Damn he was pretty.

Releasing his hand, you reached under the edge of your bed and pulled out The Box. Marc's dark eyebrows shot up while the corner of his mouth curled.

"What's in there?"

Hoping you didn't seem like the biggest weirdo, you slowly removed the lid. "I've been wanting to show you this, but...I didn't know what you would think."

Sitting up a little, he leaned over to get a peek. You slammed the lid back on The Box with a squeak.

"Come on, baby, don't stop. Please show me."

Something about that little beg made you tingle all over.

"Okay," you breathed out, finally removing the lid. "I know it'll seem like a little much but...well, just look."

Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Marc peered down into The Box, rummaging around in your secret stash.

"Iiit's...like...an emergency preparedness kit?" One eyebrow shot up questioningly.

Laughing out, you realized how it must seem. The Box contained several types and sizes of flashlights, numerous batteries, candles of various sizes, a few lighters, matches and mats and dishes to set the candles on. There were also a few packages of glow sticks. Now that he mentioned it, you surely would be prepared for a power outage.

That was the whole point!

"Who is this?" He asked, reaching for the most embarrassing item of all. "Is this like an eagle? Or a - "

"Falcon," you corrected, swallowing hard.

"Cute," Marc shrugged, squeezing the fluffy stuffed animal. "Is this what you wanted to show me?"

Slowly nodding, you watched his handsome face carefully for any judgment.

Marc's previously teasing smile eased into something warm as his fingers toyed with the furry fake feathers, and squeezed the black tip of its beak. Then he noticed something on its fuzzy, plush midsection.

"Oh, what's this?" Leaning in closer, he noticed a circle made of hard plastic.

"Push it," you instructed.

He complied and a bright light shined in his face, temporarily blinding him.

"It's a flashlight," he chuckled. "Like a stuffed falcon tummy flashlight."

You melted at how cute he was being. Noting the bird's stoic, almost stern expression, you pointed between it and Marc's forehead.

"You know, he kind of looks like you. Very serious," you teased.

"Ha ha," Marc mocked, clicking the tummy flashlight back off. "I like it."

"I've had it since I was little," you confessed. "My dad and I used to go to the Natural History Museum. He loved the birds. Still does. That's where we got it."

Marc gently smiled, listening to you speak about your dad.

"Anyway, um...see, I haven't told you this but..." chewing on your lip, you blew out a long breath. "I'm scared of the dark."

You paused, waiting for a reaction. Marc reached for your hand, nodding encouragingly.

"That's it, that's my secret," you huffed out. "I'm totally, completely, absolutely, insanely scared of the dark. Since I was a kid. Like terrified. Like...complete phobia." Nodding down at The Box, you added, "Hence...my collection."

"Shit," Marc laughed out. "That's it? I thought you were trying to tell me you were into some skin-burning cult or something. I had no idea what you were going to say, baby."

Burying your face in your hands, you realized how silly you must sound. "I know it's dumb," you mumbled through your fingers.

"It's not - lots of people don't like the dark," he sympathized. Didn't he know it? He was the protector of the travelers of the night, after all. Not that he'd had the courage to share that with you quite yet. He'd only just told you about Steven, so he was trying to give you a few days before trying to explain an ancient Egyptian deity who imbued him with power.

"I'm surprised I didn't notice it before," he added, reaching to pull your hands down so he could see your lovely face.

"Haven't you ever wondered why I sleep with my lamp on? And why at least one light is always on when we - " Licking your lips, your eyes traveled down his body, "You know..."

"I just thought you wanted to see all this," he winked, motioning to his body.

"Always," you fired back, giggling. "So...you don't think it's weird?"

Eyeing you curiously, he wrapped one arm around your shoulders, moving The Box aside. "That you're scared of the dark?"

"That I sometimes sleep with a stuffed animal. Or - sometimes I have a flashlight on my bed, that just happens to be in the form of...a stuffed falcon?"

Reaching for Flashlight Falcon, Marc shrugged. "You mean this guy? Who wouldn't want to sleep with him? He's awesome."

"I only do it sometimes. When it's really stormy or you're out of town - stuff like that."

"You were actually worried about what I would think?" Shaking his head, he chuckled. "Honey, I promise you - I am the weird one here."

"Hey," you protested, grabbing Flashlight Falcon and bopping Marc on the arm with it. "Don't talk about yourself and Steven like that."

"I'm not. Believe me, Steven is the normal one here."

A comfortable silence fell between you and Marc decided he better confess about his nighttime routine as Moon Knight. After all, if you were going to share a bed, you would want to know where he went at night. He should have told you sooner. He just couldn't find the words.

But before he could, you spoke up again. "I actually learned how to live with the dark - mostly - when I went off to school," you quietly explained. "But...something happened to me, around two years ago."

Marc nodded for you to go on.

Then you told your deeper story. How you hardly left your flat after dark on purpose - not unless you were with a friend or a group. You rarely walked, budgeting for transportation, because you simply hated dark streets that much.

But one night, two years ago, you and your friend were walking home. She offered to walk you to your door, since you only lived a couple streets over from her, but you insisted you would be okay. The path from hers to yours was well lit, with plenty of pedestrians.

So you set off on a very brave journey when the exact wrong thing happened to someone like you. Out of nowhere, on a well-lit street, someone grabbed you.

"But nothing happened," you explained to Marc, who was looking rather worried. "Someone saved me. Like - like an Avenger or someone."

"You were saved by an Avenger?" He marveled, eyes wide as you told your tale.

"No, not actually. Or - at least I don't think so," you explained. "He - I mean, I think it was a 'he' - it looked like a man. Although he wasn't that tall. He was about your height, actually... Anyway, he was dressed like completely, head-to-toe in all white."

Well, shit... Marc swallowed hard, slowly nodding.

"He had like...this hood and this long cape - I didn't even think superheroes wore capes for real..." You mused. "Maybe except Thor. Or Doctor Strange. I don't know - but anyway, he pulled me out of the way, told me I was safe, beat the hell out of this asshole who grabbed me and like...it was amazing."

Blowing out a quick breath, you shuddered at the memory. "Scared the shit out of me, though. He had these glowing, white eyes. It made me feel so safe because they were kind of like these safe beacons...or - or flashlights. I immediately felt better."

Chewing on your lip in confusion, you added, "But I think they're meant to be intimidating. His eyes, I mean. And, of course, he was sort of wrapped up like a mummy? So that was freaky."

Marc had played the role of Moon Knight for years, and saved countless travelers, but never once had he heard one of his rescues explained back to him. He was a scary mummy who wasn't very tall with comforting/intimidating flashlight eyes.

The Moon Knight effect was meant to be felt by those deserving the wrath of Khonshu's vengeance. But he hadn't given a great deal of thought to his perception by victims. He typically just made sure they got out of the way and knew they were safe.

And you - lovely, wonderful you could have been hurt, but he got the chance to save you.

"Anyway, that's when I beefed up my Box," you concluded your story. "That night really freaked me out and - not only did I have my flashlights and candles, but...I actually dug through some storage items to find Flashlight Falcon."

"Babe, that is a very cool story," Marc finally responded, completely sincerely. "Well, except for the asshole grabbing you part." Gathering his courage, he knew this was his clear opening to tell you the truth.

"You know..." He picked up Flashlight Falcon and turned his tummy light back on. "There's an Egyptian god of the moon - protector of night travelers. His name is Khonshu. He's a falcon."

"Really?" You gasped. "I guess Flashlight Falcon was watching over me," you joked. "Maybe that's why that Avenger had flashlight eyes."

Marc chuckled, setting the plushie aside. Turning to gaze into your loving eyes, he squeezed your hands, hoping you would take this well.

"You know...when we met, you seemed a little familiar to me. But I couldn't ever figure out why. But now I know."

"You do?" You questioned, having a bit of trouble keeping up with his line of thought. Weren't you talking about falcons?

"Yeah. And it...it's a bigger secret than your uh - emergency preparedness kit or a stuffed flashlight."

"Okay," you slowly nodded. You had been so nervous about Marc learning of your Flashlight Falcon, but now he seemed like the unsure one.

"The Avenger who saved you isn't an Avenger," he explained, still holding onto your hands. "His name is Moon Knight. He is a guardian of the travelers of the night. His white suit is from Khonshu - the god of the moon."

Narrowing your eyes disbelievingly, you replied, "The moon god? Is a superhero?"

"Not the god...and not really a superhero, I guess, but...the white suit is Khonshu's healing armor. That's why it looks the way it does."

"How do you know all this?" You asked. "I mean...there are all sorts of sorcerers and demigods and aliens in the world nowadays, so it's not so hard to believe. But how do you know?"

Staring into your eyes, Marc granted you a hopeful smile. "Because…he’s me."

Sometimes you can know someone so well and still be completely blindsided by their secrets. But some secrets really aren't that big of a deal. Right?

Marc, your boyfriend of six months, had asked you to move in with him.

And now you knew that one falcon or another had always been watching over you.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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