#you might be a monster but at least you're not a landlord

[infinitegest]

ive had this idea of a monster (me) with a sort of desire aura--not mind control, but anyone I wanted to would want me badly. I'd set up shop near a prestigious college and pick out a couple of the most promising freshmen--valedictorians of their high schools, preferably. Sharp, organized, responsible types who'd never let anything get in the way of their education, the last people anyone would expect to get pregnant in college. But as soon as they're at my place, not knowing what's behind my human disguise, they'd be throwing themselves at me, begging for me to fill them up. I'd go light for their freshman year--plant maybe just two or three of my spawn in their bellies, though still enough to force them to waddle from class to class after a few months. When they're not in my presence, they're cursing themselves, wondering what the hell they were thinking to wind up so huge and heavy with a near-stranger's babies, but as soon as they see me again they know they'd do it again in a heartbeat.

And don't worry, they would! I'd keep them as my own little broodmares for the rest of their college careers, adding a few more to each litter every time, until they spent their senior years breathing heavily with every step, nearly immobile with the weight of over a dozen little ones in their enormous, overstretched wombs. i just think it'd be fun.

this has been sitting in my inbox for a while bc oofffff

an intelligent, ambitious freshman, excited for a whole new stage of life, eager to become a Real Adult and have Real College Experiences, is walking back to their dorm after their first week of classes when they see you sitting on the steps of one of the buildings. they make eye contact with you, and they know, instantly, that they want to go home with you. they would normally never do something so irresponsible, so impulsive, but... this is college, right? random hook-ups, sexual liberation, a Real College Experience! all they have to do is go over and talk to you. besides, it's not like their parents will ever know...

smash cut forward to the winter break. they're in the bathroom on the train. their stop is coming soon, their parents will be picking them up,and they're desperately trying to convince themself that their chunky holiday sweater will be able to conceal their swollen tummy, which already looks like it's on the cusp of the third trimester despite their buns not even being halfway done baking. it's mortifying enough rolling out of bed each morning to the judgmental glances of their roommate, unavoidable in the tiny freshman dorm they share, but now they're about to be with the people they care about, the people whose validation and approval they've been thriving on for years. they pull the hem down for the dozenth time and groan deeply, trying to script out a gentle way to break it to their parents that the favorite child, the valedictorian, the prodigy, is now big-bellied with the babies of a complete stranger. they couldn’t even make it a full week on their own without getting knocked up, they couldn't even say what your name was (and why can't they remember your face?)

when they get back from a remarkably chilly winter break (in more ways than one), they're relieved to see that they actually share two classes with another one of your swelling breeders, though they have no way of knowing that they have that in common. from their perspective, it's just nice to not be the only one with a prominent belly, and to have a peer they can chat about growth and aches and cravings with.

the two become fast friends. they have so much in common, after all: both intelligent, ambitious, and knocked up by some rando towards the beginning of the school year. they briefly muse on the plausibility of the passengers within the two burgeoning tummies being half-siblings, before laughing it off and moving on to other topics.

spring comes, the time of fertility, and the two have been getting closer and closer (and bigger, and bigger). late one evening, lazily rubbing each other's bellies after some sweaty fun, the classmate mentions something they'd heard about-- an off-campus housing opportunity, specifically geared towards the comfort of expecting students.

it almost sounds to good to be true, that someone would forego being a total leech on society renting out such a spacious, comfortable property to the wealthier members of the student body, instead choosing to provide free, conveniently-located housing to students who let their libidos get the best of them and are waddling with the consequences. but, the classmate claims they've talked to another big-bellied peer, a sophomore who swears by the place.

so, together, the freshman and their friend decide to meet with the owner of the place, to get a good look and see if there's a slot or two open. the freshman is worried: they're unmistakably pregnant, massive enough that the kicks of their cargo are occasionally visible from across a lecture hall. but they're due just after finals week; if they aren't pregnant anymore, would they still be allowed to move in? this is what they're anxious about, squeezing their friend's hand as they waddle together to the property and knock on the door for the meeting.

of course, as the door opens and they see your smile, those worries vanish. if being knocked up is the prerequisite for being a tenant, then they know they'll be eligible for years to come.

[hyewka]

Because I’m currently pissed off ive decided to manifest it into positive energy 🙂!!! I present to you a scenario of very loud and annoying neighbour Yeonjun, like just criminally loud neighbour throughout every. single. night. Absolutely no rest ever since he moved in.

warnings: sub!yeonjun, grinding, slapping lol, dacryphilia, noona kink sorta

On good days, it’d be what you think is him producing music because at least your walls aren’t vibrating. Worst days? It would hands down be the ragers he throws practically every week as if he was still in college. Sex being a close second—to give credit, he has toned it down the past couple of weeks.

“We take your complaints very seriously, but please cut him some slack Miss. He’s still in college you know how…they get,” So…he is still in college. And to the newfound information, you guess he’s also under twenty three. It explains… a lot. “Between you and me, he’s practically scraping to get money for rent enough as it is.”

You hold back a scoff and instead try to be empathetic so you give your best attempt at a smile to the office worker. You could handle a few months of sleepless nights before he’s eventually evicted, can’t you?

So, just like that, you give up the weekly complaints you send to the landlord.

…Is what you chose to believe as you try your hardest to drown out the noise next door, pillow pressed against your ear with sheer strength before you finally give out, groaning with agony. If you can’t get anybody to listen to your complaints, then who will?

Communication.

Like a light bulb lit above your head you scramble out of your bed, not in the mood to change out of your nightgown, slipped on your slides, and you were now prepared to pay a visit to your more than lovely neighbour, Choi Yeonjun.

You knock a few times. No response.

Before you could get your tenth knock the door swings open to reveal the monster who has been tormenting you for the last few months. You hold up a polite smile, though your eyes unintentionally trail down to his exposed collarbones. A white tank top, a white tank top, a white— “Hey?”

Your eyes widen, getting flustered as you clear your throat, straightening your posture. “Um, so, hi! As you know I’m—"

“Y/N, neighbour 331.” Your brows raise impressed that he actually knew. “The one who’s been submitting complaints on me every Friday, right?”

Oh. He does not like you. Your smile falters for a second before you compose yourself and nod. “I just wanted to come to you instead of going to the landlord tomorrow morning, think it’s better if we communicate.”

He contemplates for a second before nodding, arms crossed lazily, eyes urging you to continue. “…I want to communicate that I am not very…appreciative of the noise every night. Well, I’m sure you already know—and I wish for you to turn it down a notch.”

Yeonjun gives you a tight smile, eyes turning into crescents, with his hand placed behind his door. “Sure.” —is all he says before the door’s slammed shut in your face.

Not taking into account the rudeness of what he just did, you think that was a success. So you take a second to commend yourself and pat yourself on the back, heading to your flat.

To your luck, he goes through with his word and actually keeps it down.

For one night.

You think maybe if you go knocking enough times, he'd follow through each time (which he does) and eventually learn to turn it down without you telling him to (which he doesn't).

You're faced with him again, patience holding by a thread, "Keep. It. Down." you grit out the moment his door opens, eyes with intention to kill.

"Damn. Okay. You can chill out."

And then again.

"Turn your TV down."

And...again.

"I would appreciate it if you turned it down a bit."

It was a daily thing to get up from the comfort of your bed and storm up to his door, your knuckles bruising from the abundance of times you banged on his door.

"At this point, might start thinking you're really into me." You stare at him in disbelief, mouth hung open not able to process the absolute audacity. You're even more pissed when he cheekily points out: "You're drooling."

You immediately shut your mouth before rolling your eyes to absolute oblivion. You hate his guts. Even more when you wipe at your mouth experimentally and do in fact find that he wasn't lying. "Just—just turn it down!"

You truly did not like him, nothing more nothing less. You couldn't even find him more than averagely attractive so there definitely weren't any underlying feelings. You just thought he was way too incredibly cocky for your taste, too unbothered of his surroundings; to you it looked like all that mattered to Yeonjun was himself. Which is a big turn off.

You were definitely all too aware of the numerous times his eyes would, with absolutely no shame, look you up and down, not caring to be discreet about checking you out. Each time you'd scoff, because god, does he remind you of all the reasons you hated college.

You didn't think he was at peak of childishness until the one time you saw Yeonjun arriving at his door as you struggled to key your door open with your sort-of-boyfriend slash co-worker Doyoung (which was another issue you had to deal with all around) beside you, waiting to finally finish off what you started back at his car.

"Hey, hey let me try." Doyoung offers and you let him, awkwardly making way for him to attempt to open your jammed door.

It wasn't hard to feel Yeonjun's quick glances over at you before he says nothing and disappears into the black hole that was his flat. When you came over to his door the next day, the daily reminder to keep it quiet, he does one of his cheesy fuck boy lines from a 2000s movie without fail. Except he doesn't end it there.

He asks you a question you would've snorted at if it wasn't for the fact that it wasn't very humorous to have an annoying neighbor busying themselves with your personal life.

"Was that your boyfriend? Yesterday?" His very weird attempt at keeping his voice monotone and almost nonchalant has you puzzled...not in a good way.

You resort to not answering his question. You didn't have to. "From a scale of one to ten, how valuable is that information to you? It's supposed to be zero lovely neighbour."

"Well, you—you should keep it down next time," he starts, and you're confused. No way. "Couldn't sleep with all the bed creaking."

You could've even retort back and say something like 'oh, now you know how I feel', too embarrassed to say anything before just storming to your door. You did not like Choi Yeonjun.

At all.

All of that was before being stuck in an elevator with a more than a nervous wreck plus one.

"Can you calm down? They'll be here in like, less than a few minutes." You aren't too great at comforting, clearly, as he gets a lot more jittery. "Fuck! It's been five entire minutes!” —Not true. “What if—what if we just die in here, holy shit holy shit." Yeonjun was spiraling as he tries to pace in the confined space, eyes wide with panic, biting down on his bottom lip practically breaking down right in front of your eyes.

"Hey, hey look, just sit. On the floor. Calm down, and collect yourself."

To your surprise, he stops pacing, for a second looks at you before taking a breath and slumping down to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. You decide to also sit down, albeit, the awkward distance between the two of you making it less than comfortable. It feels like a few minutes before your ears pick up little sniffles.

Oh well, shit. He was crying. You attempt to not look at him, he was clearly more than vulnerable but your eyes can't help but slowly trail to your side. The confident, cocky neighbor you've had to deal with for the past five months was indeed crying.

Your perception of Yeonjun changes in an elevator that day, just a tiny bit. When he starts to apologize through his sobs, that had quickly picked up sound, you feel something. "Sorry, sorry, I'm just—fuck—"

"What happened?" You don't care, you think you don't, but you still end up asking. And listening.

"Don't judge." he says with that slight break of his voice and you nod.

Your eyes dart back and forth, hyper focused on every feature of his face as he turns to you, venting all of his worries to someone he most likely finds annoying the same way you find him—red runny nose, fox-like eyes already turning bloodshot, the way his perfectly trimmed brows furrow every few sentences like he was thinking over what he should reveal to a stranger that hates him, or his quivering bottom lip whenever he'd take a second to take a breath—your perception of him had definitely changed. Just a tiny bit.

You have no idea what possessed you to reach your thumb out for under his eyes—to wipe. Like you knew him at all. As if he wasn't the neighbor who had been the cause of all the sleepless nights you experienced. It was something about his pouty lips, pinkish tone from all the crying, making you behave so oddly. “Thanks…” Yeonjun’s strained whisper combined with his tears bordering his waterline had got you even more entranced and holy shit— you quickly retract your hand from his face, instead focusing on bright yellow light on your floor number.

“Mhm.” It was a panic hum, like any minute now you would do a very impulsive and frankly out of character thing.

But thankfully his paranoia was proven to not be true as just a few minutes go by before the elevator doors open to reveal someone from what you assume to be the rescue service.

When you get out, Yeonjun is rather quick to go to his flat, avoiding all small talk and shutting his door behind him almost as quick as he ran to it. And as for you, all night is spent sleepless once more. And the cause being once again, Yeonjun. Except it's not his music, his movies, or sex. He keeps oddly quiet that day. No, it's the short dream you have that scares you awake.

Yeonjun. Crying. And a sex dream. Oh you were fucked up.

Not only does that dream scare you wide awake for an entire night, it also scares you from ever approaching his door again. Or when you see him down at the laundry room, or at the elevator, or—

At your door?

When you open to the persistently annoying knock, you don't expect it to be your neighbor. In his signature frat look, a backward cap hanging on his head. "Hey—"

"What do you want?" You cut him off.

"Oh, well, straight to the point, um—Was here to tell you that I'll be throwing a party in just a few hours. So it'll get loud. And I won't be able to turn it down. Sorry."

"Okay." you simply say before adding, "Thanks for giving me a heads up I guess." You attempt to give a smile before shutting your door but Yeonjun stops you with the intervention of his foot between the door and the frame.

"Also. Question.” You quirk a brow. “This is probably really weird to ask because we don't even know each other, but, are you avoiding me? I feel like you are. Was it because of my …crying?" He whispers the last part like its some sacred omen.

"Huh?"

"What happened at the elevator. Can’t you—can’t you just forget about that? I mean I have no idea if you’re avoiding me because of it, but I feel like you are and I don’t know, I just need a confirmation. It’s driving me fucking insane and, and as a man—”

God, you’d do anything to not be the victim of a macho man attempting to explain how weak it is to shed a few tears. So you reveal the reality that you are currently living in. A reality where you dreamed about fucking Choi Yeonjun, A.K.A someone you would consider a mortal enemy by this point.

“I had a sex dream.” It’s the first time you see him taken aback, blinking rapidly, clueless of what you just said. “About you.” you confirm, pursing your lips at the few seconds of silence that followed after. Presuming he has nothing to say to you look down at his foot that was the sole reason you hadn’t shut the door yet.

He scrambles, flustered when he realizes, moving his feet, an incredulous chuckle leaving his lips right after, “Um, yeah, sorry— a sex dream? About me? Huh. I always knew—” With dread, you slam the door shut before he could get another word in, the last thing you see being a smug grin on his face with the newly found information settling in and god you just want to rip your hair out— the absolute last thing you wanted to do was feed his ego. Which you had clearly served to have done.

You choose to huddle up on your couch, watching a random Netflix show to pass time on your vacation day but the show’s too uninteresting so you inevitably end up spacing out.

You’re not entirely sure why you’ve been particularly childish about the dream. Especially since you’ve had awkward sex dreams before, the one about your fuck-ass boss taking the number one spot for most traumatizing. But you’ve never actively ignored anyone or even gave it a second thought other than “Holy shit that was weird.”

So, your subconscious leads you to believe you resorted to avoidance due to the contents of your dream. Said contents being you… dominating a man. Roped up cocky Yeonjun at mercy of every feather touch, squirming in his restraints, face a teary mess with his hair plastered onto his forehead from all the sweat, a ballgag drenched with his spit just to keep him shut, salivating dumbly down under his chin, the prettiest fucked out look, putting the little shit in his place and holy shit are you touching yourself?

Like some prude, you retract your hand out from under your pants and curse yourself at seeing your fingers stick because of your substance—Yeonjun was driving you crazy. And you hated it, he was at most five years younger than you and throughout your life span, you have never felt anything for a younger man—its always been a turn off. Especially when it shows. And with Yeonjun, oh it showed.

Even now as your reverie gets broken by an unrythmic knock similar to before, leading you to be faced by Yeonjun. For the second time today.

His stance is a lot different than an hour ago, almost like that one time on the elevator. “…Hey?” You start out with raised eyebrows.

Confused by his silence you assume what this was about, “I seriously don’t mind the party, I’ll be—”

Your eyes widen in surprise when Yeonjun’s lips crash on yours, roughly taking you up a wind before the realizations sets in the moment his hand start going places it should not be going. You bite down on his lip and he pulls away instantly, groaning, wide eyed, tears already springing on his waterline from the pain. He has the audacity to look offended as he yells with childish shriek of his voice, “What the hell?!”

“Are you insane? Who gave you the right to kiss me you fucking pervert?” You yell back, still shocked at his sudden advancement, finger lingering on your lips.

He visibly deflates with a knit of his eyebrows, eyes wide, "Um? You...you just told me you had a sex dream...of me."

"So?" you whisper-shout exasperated.

"I thought—"

You cut him off. "You thought what? I'd let you barge in here like some lead in a porno and...fuck me?"

He seems to think for a few seconds before literally...nodding, making you nearly gasp. "Well, sort of...yeah? I mean, women don't tell you that they've had a wet dream about you without trying to say something non-verbally." He seems almost proud when he says that, as if he has hundreds of experience in women psych.

Holy fuck. You dreamed about fucking this kid. A dumb frat whose probably got everything handed to him just because he was moderately pretty.

But maybe he wasn't too far off, because you find yourself stupidly attracted to his slightly bruised lip from your bite earlier, his eyes still glossy, iris looking up waiting for you to say something. Holy shit.

"How old are you?" If the age gap was bigger than three years—

"Turned twenty-three last September. Why?"

Two years. Oh fuck, to hell with it all.

You ignore his question and jump straight in the cold, freezing water. "How...much are you willing to do to...fuck me?" The question came out a lot more awkward than you intended.

He huffs out a laugh incredulously waiting for you to say that was a joke, but too much time has passed and now he's seriously thinking it over for a second. "Um...a lot? I don't know. I'm just super horny right now."

If you were in your right mind, you would've rejected him. Out the door he would've been because the way he drawled super had to have been the biggest turn off. But you were also a woman at mercy to her sexual desires. And right now, your sexual desire was Yeonjun.

"Okay," you exhale. "Sure. Let's fuck. But we're doing this my way."

-----

You surprisingly don't possess any toys...other than an unused dildo. You're not sure if he'd be too into that, or if you know him enough to even propose such an idea. So... you’re left empty handed; now all you had was your word and control.

And the slight age difference seemed to help it out too. “I-I’m—holy shit— I’m gonna cum noona, noona—"

Abruptly, you move from his neck that you were just lightly sucking on, hand once palming him over his sweats, retracted. He whines from the loss of friction, opening his shut eyes to give you the nastiest look as he tries to quickly bring back his high but he clearly fails when he groans, nearly feeling his eyes get teary. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

"I told you to stop calling me noona. Plus, I'm not gonna let you soil your pants the minute I get my hands on you."

Wild runs in his eyes and its unlike you’ve seen him. "Holy shit, you're so—" But it’s not intimidating. You cut him off by straddling his lap, and if you weren’t nicer you would’ve laughed at how fast his expression changed. Dumb kid.

He was totally awestricken, wetting his lips for a second until opening them again, "—fucking hot."

You strike a sharp blow across his face, the slap silencing him abruptly. His lips are slightly parted, confusion ridden in his features, his cheek quickly turning a shade of red, ears ringing—then you start grinding and his expression once again morphs into something sinfully pathetic, except this time he had those tears threatening to spill. “Don’t call me hot again. Understood?”

“It’s a fucking complim—”

You shove two fingers in his mouth to attempt of actually shutting this man up, and for a bit it serves to gag him until a lewd thought popped in your head. “Suck. Or I kick you out and you can jerk off your stupid dick alone.”

He immediately obeys, sucking on your two fingers, his saliva coating them. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was shifting his position and not attempting to buck his hips like a dumb rabid dog. He was getting off from this.

You were proven more when you start pumping your digits in his mouth, too fascinated at how he sucks in his cheeks, making eye contact, whining on your fingers. “Why’re you so frustrating? Could’ve been a good boy from the beginning.”

You rolled your hips into his more, his dick hardening you’re surprised he hasn’t complained yet. “When are we gonna fuck?” He whines when your fingers are out of his watering mouth.

Clearly, you speak too soon.

“Never if you keep being a fucking bitch. You know how much sleep I lost because of your idiotic shenanigans? Let me have my fun.”

A lot. He was insufferable the first three months, dark circles getting more deep set. Feeling anger bubble up, you move to roughly trailing wet kisses down his neck and goodness is he audible—his soft moans are truly music to your ears. “You’re loud.”

And it gets you to needily grind down on his bulge even more, your core aching. Unfortunately, he takes this as you scolding him to be quiet, and so for a second, he’s extremely quiet. “No, no, want you to be loud. Love your needy voice, such a pretty dumb boy.” you breathe, getting off on his lap.

You suck hard on a sensitive spot and he spasms, whimpering. “Noona—”

You bite down on his exposed shoulder and Yeonjun cries. “Told you to stop calling me that freak.”

“Don’t care, I wanna call you noona,” you swallow the lump in your throat because the honorific does spur you on his lap, “My noona.”

Your eyes widen, flustered hands raising to slap him again, which he doesn’t dodge. Hot cheeks so red from the two times you hit his pretty face, tears long spilling down them, is so much better than the dream—except his bratty smirk pulls you out of the fantasy. “Stop pushing it dumb frat.”

His hips buck to hump up against your pussy and you really start to think he enjoys getting slapped. “P-please, want your pussy. Been thinking about it all week.”

“All week?”

“Y-yeah, since that guy fucked you dumb, like a bitch.” If it weren’t for how distracted you were getting by his twitching dick in between your thighs, you would’ve given him another strike against his face—and maybe then he would’ve shut up for good.

“You want to fuck me like a bitch?” you slur in his ear in mock tone, “You?”

He furrows his brows, visibly getting haughty. “Yes, me. What about it?” he bites.

You whine at the cute knit of his brows, the pout that rests his pretty lips. You lean to kiss them, you’ve been thinking of doing that since the beginning—they looked so pillowy, soft, everything you could now feel as he eagerly returns the chaste mouth to mouth.

It’s quick to turn messy, spit smothered by the side of his lips when you cup his cheeks—then you let go, abruptly. Yeonjun tries to blindly chase your lips, but you’re unrelenting, working yourself on his lap. “You can’t fuck me like him Jjunie.”

“I can fuck your brains out, you—” He’s mid barking back at your statement, his ego clearly beaten down to the ground, but you do the next thing you’ve been dying to try—playing with his nipples. You graze them with your thumb when you’ve had your hands under his shirt for a good minute—a fact unnoticed by the man under you—and that gets him mewling. Mewling.

“F-fuck, don’t touch me there..”

“But I thought you could fuck my brains out?” you mock with a pout, “How come you get like this just by…”

You pinch his nipples slightly and he throws his back on the couch almost immediately, whimpering through his tightly closed lips. “Me touching your tits?”

“Don’t c-call them that.”

“Tits? But you like this don’t you?” you ask softly, studying every bit of a jerk, or a slight quiver of his bottom lip. He loved every second of this, but you needed him to tell you. You stop massaging his nips, removing your hand entirely from under his shirt, which gets his eyes to fly open, holding your wrist. “I do! I do. I like it when you play with my tits.” he says exasperated, raising your hand under his shirt again.

What a desperate whore.

You smirk, incredibly engrossed by his eagerness, and his swollen glistening lips from your brief makeout earlier. “Yeah?” you drawl, pressing on his bud just a tiny bit, and he nods. Thank god he was sensitive.

“Mhm.” he hums, still pathetically chasing your warmth. All he can think with is his dick.

“Thought about wrecking my tight, little pussy so bad all week, huh? Jerked off to the thought all week? Poor baby. Then I have to make it up to you today don’t I?” you know those words would make him act up more, getting him unbearably hard to the point its torture. And god, now your panties were uncomfortably sticking to your pussy.

“N-noona let me—let me—” Yeonjun’s crying more as the friction between your bodies gets too overwhelming for him— and gosh, does he look like such a dumb boy; none of his cocky stupid shit from earlier.

It was hot.

“Want my pussy?”

His nods are frantic, so much that you snort. “Yes, yes please. Wanted to fuck you dumb ever since you came over. You never gave me any attention, jus’ wanted to make a mess of you, cumming all over your tits—”

No way. He was a pervert from the beginning? You thought he hated your guts just as much as you did him. “Did that filthy fantasy give you a good enough reason to ruin my sleep schedule and ..and all my chances at a promotion? Huh? Because of you i can’t even dream of it—“

You were lying. Losing sleep had definitely affected your work performance but it wasn’t to the point you couldn’t aim for a little promotion. But you liked seeing his guilt pool in, crying, crying sooo pathetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know noona, I swear.”

His hiccups are enough to get you to fasten your speed on his lap, the friction working to get you off.

“Yeah. Because your undeveloped brain can’t grasp at the real worlds consequence. I hate guys like you. So immature and dumb.”

That snaps something in him clearly as he finds the tongue to retort, “If you hated me you—you wouldn’t be getting off on my cock.”

You scoff, especially at picking up on the strained moan he tries to conceal, the shudder of his body giving away the orgasm. Choi Yeonjun just came. Untouched.

You could feel it between your legs, the warmth spread disgustingly all over and you grimace. “Gross.”

He groans out of embarrassment, hiding his face with an arm. And now you’re just sitting on his wet lap, contemplating two things. Kicking him out or getting to satisfy your needs?

Unfortunately, the banging on a door pauses your movement of unbuckling his jeans and you can’t hide the roll of your eyes. “Yeonjun! Are you home?!”

Convenient timing. Not.

You don’t let your disappointment show—he came and you hadn’t. You instead turn to face him, giving him a mocking smile, “You have a party to host ...oops.” And at least end it with the illusion you had the upper hand.

But Yeonjun is not as willing to give it up. “I don’t give a shit. I host these weekly,” Oh, you know. “…Can you at the least …let me eat you out?”

#############################

a/n; lol this got longer than i intended to the point i was thinking about naming it and getting it out as an actual fic but ehhhhh ill leave it raw 🥲 wish my shitty neighbor was yeonjun but we move 😁!!!!!

[cannibal-nightmares]

sharing this with you all for perspective and also as a processing method for myself

being schizophrenic can be described by the time I bought a small air dehumidifier for my bathroom. the appliance in the box was fine and normal, it wasn't until I tried to take it out was something Wrong, something was Bad--the thing felt like it was living somehow and that was supremely Not Good; the logic part of my brain (and, truly, god bless I still have any semblance of logic still thriving and kicking) thought annoyedly, "Ugh, not this again, it's an inanimate object," but it will never ever be enough to override the inherent paranoid delusion completely. So they fought, the two sides, and when logic stands a fighting chance, the only way I can get through something is by shouting over the noise... and in this case, it was at a dehumidifier. I managed to get it out of the box all while yelling at it--which may sound like absolutely nothing, but this circumstance was actually huge for me--put it on the floor, and... Walked away. Backed away. I was too scared to plug it in, and this isn't telling the whole of the story: If remember correctly, I think I ended up crying because my hands felt "tainted" after touching the thing, and I was getting so worked up and annoyed because the only self-soothing that helps is your stereotyped incoherent rambling, and I often mitigate the shouting by forcing stressed out laughter which just makes it all seem worse, frankly. I left the dehumidifier on the floor until the next morning when I was able to plug it in and use it; I still to this day struggle to empty out the water carafe and I can't directly look at it, but at the very least I can use it for its functionality.

never thought I'd admit to this story, but I just woke up to my smoke detector beeping because the battery must be dying. the beeping bothers me way less than I would have othewise imagined, but instead of removing and replacing the battery myself, I have to call the landlord to do it for me. I have to. I set up a stool to do it myself, and my head just started swarming. And that shit is louder than any fire alarm chirping. it feels like a swarming, like pressure, like someone shouting at you to get out of the way of an oncoming car fifty times over. it's like standing next to a blaring firetruck at a parade. it feels like There Is No Worse Consequence Than This, like somehow my consciousness will be overridden if I touch the smoke detector, if I get too close to it, if I think about it at a specific angle for too long.

and I try to talk to people about my paranoia, but they don't understand there is no reason to be had. "You're right, the beeping is very loud and kind of scary," they might say. "You don't have to worry about electrocution," they might consider, "it's just a battery." It's like the instance I was having a hard time at work and asked my co-worker if a customer's service dog was real and I was replied to with, "I hope so! A robot dog would be spooky!" it has nothing to do with the physical logic at all, but absurdity like "if I fix the fire alarm myself, magically the next door neighbor will be able to read my mind" and etc beyond etc. And it may sound silly, but that's the point, that's the problem, and it's just as real as the sky is blue.

anyways im not telling this tale for pity, but, again, to offer perspective. This ish robs you of your autonomy in the most jarring and absurd ways and all I can do is laugh through it. What makes it such a monster to deal with--at least for me--is that working through the logic doesn't seem to do a damn thing. So I really do have to force myself to rely on others in times like this, and it's infinitely more difficult when your brain decides that others are the enemy, as well, even when they never had been before.

[vel-sig-gaming]

Short form reviews x7

Might make longer reviews of some of these but here's a rapidfire of some games I consider truly exceptional (that you probably havent heard of already.) Because a lot of these are too good to not know about for even a day longer.

[Sifu]: First person fighting game about getting revenge with kung fu, Insanely hard game, very hard to master, very rewarding. Get it if you like fighting games or hard games, Single player only, 8/10.

[One step from eden]: Usually deckbuilder roguelikes are more slow paced. This one turns it into a FPS where if you don't have high APM you're dead meat. The execution is steller, the character options are great, the difficulty is nightmarish, and the music is amazing. Also it just came out with a multiplayer fighting game spinoff. 9/10

[Balatro]: Another roguelike with a twist, this one is poker themes but your hands deal damage. Kill the enemy in a limited number of them by grabbing muultipliers, modifiers, and special effects. One of the best designed ones i've seen lately, just go try it now. 9.5/10.

[Luck be a landlord]: This one is a much shorter game, but it's very hard to stop playing once you try. the demo for this one is free on steam and of a good size. Only about 4 hours of good gameplay though so get it on sale maybe. 6/10.

[Cassette Beasts]: It's a monster catching game but with a good plot and good combat that isn't just "Oneshot them with your strongest attack move" looking at you, pokemon. Also it does that thing where the artstyle changes and the music adds vocals during tough encounters. Fucking love that shit. 9.5/10. it's like pokemon if it were actually good.

[Sunless sea]: This one is hard to evaluate. The writing and worldbuilding might actually be the straight up BEST I'VE EVER SEEN. However it does NOT mix with roguelike gameplay very well as you'll sometimes end up re-reading the same slow encounters 10 times. However the gameplay as a whole is a mastah fucken peece. 6/10, but if you turn on savepoints and lower difficulty, 8 or 9/10.

[Tangledeep]: This one is a only semi-randomized roguelike and it's more of an adventure game/dungeon crawler. But the real draw of this game (besides the amazing music) is HOARDING ALL THE LOOT. 10 Cooked chickens, a potion that gives you 50 buffs, legendary armor and weapons made of tree bark, Shark swords, Giant bombs, it all goes in the bag. Fucking love it. 8/10. it's a bit unbalanced though.

Some games are too good to not play in my opinion. That's why i'm here to let you know of the better ones just a little bit sooner, at least I hope so.

Make sure to enjoy. More in depth reviews later.

[lustbile]

To Provoke

Incubus!HaechanxReader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: dom-ish haechan, semi public (alley way), oral&fingering, biting, blood consumption, & can maybe be interpreted as degrading but not really

notes: a resounding thank you to whoever gave haechan curls and horns im in love with you nct stylist person. I wrote this all today and it made me stupid so I will try to go through and do more editing. Also not that I think anyone would, but I made the edit for this, horns and all, and im asking politely no one repost it, i know it’s not the most extravagant edit but im asking u pls.

Nct Masterlists

Multi group Masterlist

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You were trying to provoke him.

You were always trying to provoke him.

Everything you did, every move, blink, sigh, and turn was an attempt to pull him from the shadows.

To admit you’re addicted to him is embarrassing, degrading even, especially with the way it fills his chest and wild eyes with hunger and pride. His ego was one thing that never needed to grow, big enough to fill every nook and cranny of the universe, but something about the way your pretty eyes would glitter at him in awe pushed it over the edge in free fall.

The outfit you chose to wear was maybe a bit too revealing for the weather, the nipping cold dancing along your shoulders and thighs in a way that makes your stomach clench and your teeth chatter. But it was the same outfit you had worn on the night you had met him, the outfit that his greedy fingers tugged and pulled on to get access to your skin, and it still had the smallest of tears in the seem from his impatience that night.

But it got you attention, and that's what mattered in the end.

He had always had a jealous streak, something he’d deny sharply if you had the nerve to accuse him, but that didn’t change the fact that some of your best nights with him were spent after he showed up to remind you that your body and skin were for him only. And that jealousy was the exact thing you needed to get him to show his face again.

It had been far too long since you had felt him last. You had no clue where he could have possibly ran off to for such a long time, but that didn’t stop the fire that was building in your belly. And no matter how many times you tried, your own wandering hands were never enough to quench your body’s thirst like he could.

The man you spoke to at the club meant less than nothing to you, even when you felt his growing excitement pressing against your back when you agreed to dance with him. The sloppy kisses you allowed him to press against the skin of your neck felt no different than just air as your mind was too distracted by the man that had taken ownership of your heart and soul so long ago, regardless of his absence.

It didn’t feel long before the lights became too bright, the alcohol that sloshed in your cup too bitter for your tongue, and the smell of the strange man too stale and unfamiliar. But when you pushed away from his chest and checked the time on your phone, while you ignored his grumbled complaints of you being a tease, you saw that it was only a handful of minutes past midnight.

You had stayed out much longer than that before, much later in fact and with glee, but something in your chest, a heavy and daunting weight, was pulling you towards the entrance on unsteady feet and a taunting disappointment on your shoulders.

Your mind still felt muggy even after you broke away from the stuffy environment of the building, but you brushed it off as a combination of the minimal alcohol you’d consumed and the angry unsatisfied monster that had made home in your gut.

You had enough of a head on your shoulders to scan your purse for your pepper spray and pocket knife before you decided that maybe the short walk home would help clear your mind and disappointment. It was still cold, your icy fingertips begging for a uber or cab instead, but you were hoping the biting chill would help calm down whatever lustful beast you had become because of a man you couldn't even contact.

Your legs felt too heavy to carry with every step you took, your neck feeling like your necklaces were made from tons of lead instead of whatever cheap metal the random online store you had ordered them from used. You were grateful that the only company you had on the back streets you had chosen to take were the flickering street lamps and the skittering rats you could hear in each alley you passed.

You could almost taste the relief of the cheap bottles of wine you had stashed in your kitchen paired with a trashy netflix horror film when you turned onto your street, your apartment building somehow looking inviting with its old brick and foggy windows as it sat on the corner. The only thing stopping you from kicking off your heels and making a run for it being the memory of one of your less than polite neighbors dropping a large glass vase and not feeling any need to pick up the broken pieces before leaving for the day.

Instead you grit your teeth to help bear the pinching of your shoes, and break into a quick and awkward jog down the desolate stretch of sidewalk. Your eyes watering as you're met with icy air.

Peace and warmth and cheap familiar alcohol is only a few strides away when you hear it. To anyone else in the city it would have been no different than the sounds of an everyday creature scavenging in the trash for food, but you had lived here long enough to know what's a rat or raccoon or, in this case, a cat.

It was a stray you had befriended long ago, one that could climb and duck into your conveniently opened balcony door for a bowl of food and a scratch behind the ears. It was just a sweet little boy that was grey and covered with scratches and scars, but due to a no pet policy had to be kept labeled as a stray and a secret to your landlord.

You huff in frustration, assuming he would have been curled up on your couch when you returned home and not chasing rats in the alley next to your building, but he had always been mischievous from the day you met him. So with the hope that you could block his image from the security cameras, you turn and head into the dim light of the small alley.

You had lovingly dubbed him Oscar when you came home more than once to your trash can tipped over and learned he had a special love for garbage, and that name along with some weird chattering cooing left you mouth as you tried to coax him from whatever trash can he was creating chaos within.

Your teeth were already gritted and you back stiff as the playful feline found enjoyment in jumping out and scaring you in times like this and you assumed this time would be no different as his evilness seemed to only raise as it got deeper and deeper into the night. So you were already mentally prepared for an attack from an overly excited ball of fur, what you weren’t prepared for was a voice.

“What are you doing out so late?” the voice was gruff and slightly accusatory and made you all but jump completely out of your skin. And as you whip around in circles to try to find the face that the words feel from, you see your love and joy Oscar jump from the tallest trash can and scale the fire escape up to scramble back into your home like a guilty teenager that was caught by their mother.

“I asked you a question,” this time the words were followed by strong hands gripping your shoulders and a shrill yelp escaping your throat.

Your hand was pushing into your purse for at least one of your weapons as you squat to get out of the person's hold and turn to see their face, the grinning and prideful boy behind you washes you with a wave of relief before stabbing at you with annoyance.

“Haechan, what the fuck,” you whisper harshly as you pull your hand from your purse and stand up straight, your now free hand now moving to jab a rough finger into the dip of his chest, “how many times? How many times have I told you to not fucking sneak up on me like that. I know the pepper spray can’t hurt you and a stab wound would heal in like five minutes but that doesn’t mean I want to stab you, idiot.”

“Why not?” his head jerks back as if you said something dumb like the sky wasn’t actually blue or he wasn’t really the sexiest man to live, something that just has no logic behind it in the slightest, “like you said it would heal so maybe we could try, might be kinda hot.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing you roughly by the waist, his other hand wrapping gently around your neck before he pushes you against the rough brick behind you, the permanent evil glimmer in his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Do you ever get tired of being an absolute freak?” you thinly veiled insult doesn’t pack as much of a punch as you had maybe hoped, but when he begins to mouth at the skin of your jaw and cheek you can’t really find it within yourself to care.

“Well isn’t that why you like me?” he asks rhetorically as he starts to nip light bruises in the spots that blur your vision, “freaky me must be your favorite, because otherwise you wouldn’t be dressed the way you are.”

He’s no wrong, not even in the slightest, but the confident way in which he says it is enough to make you want to lie, “wanting you and liking you are two different things, no one ever said I liked you.”

“Oh but you want me,” the way in which he takes everything you say in strides without even batting an eye is bit infuriating, but the way his fingers tighten against your neck and push into your jugular is enough to make you melt against him, “that’s what you said so for once that’s not me putting words into your pretty little mouth. But don’t say you don’t like me, that’s a dirty lie and we both know it.”

“You don’t like when I lie?” you pout at him, trying to pull more and more reactions from him, “but some of your favorite things I say are lies, like how big you are and how well you fuc-“

“Alright that’s enough of you,” he interrupts, his fist tightening that much more and his other slipping from your waist to reach under the hem of your dress, a satisfied growl and his tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek being his reaction when he realizes the underwear he was grabbing for wasn’t there, “I’ve had to watch you prance around all night, letting a low down dog of a man touch you. And for what? My attention? Baby, you already have my attention.”

Your words stutter violently, the only sounds coming from your throat are whines and gasps as his fingers slip between your thighs and glide against the dampened skin, never staying on your clit long enough to give you the pleasure you need but enough to make you squirm.

“You were watching me?” you finally gasp out, before it clicks in your brain how dumb of a question it was. He told you a long time ago that he always will keep an eye on you, and knowing what he is and the things he can do, you had no reason to not believe him.

“I always am my pretty baby,” he coos before pressing teasing kisses to your open mouth, seemingly tasting and feeding off of every little noise that slips out, “and it hurts to see you let such a nasty man touch you where only I should. You didn’t even notice him following you out of that trashy club did you, silly thing?”

You jerk back as much as you can with the way he holds you, eyes widening at the news that you were apparently being followed without your knowledge. Every emotion that swims in your brain feels like its fighting for dominance, but with the way he chooses to dip his middle and ring fingers just barely past your entrance you’re struggling to cling to just one.

“God, you are so lucky to have me aren’t you? Who else would take care of creeps and make you feel good hm?” he tilts his head as he speaks, his breath warm against the side of your face before his tongue dips to lick at the shell of your ear, “no one can make you feel the way I do can they?”

“No,” you finally answer after a moment, the word coming out as an airy breath as his fingers finally sink in all the way. He wastes no time before curling them and pressing at the spot that makes your knees buckle, “please Haechan, need you so bad.”

“Oh is that one of those infamous lies of yours you were talking about?” he pulls away slightly, but shows no interest in slowing the motions of his hand, “well it can’t be can it? I can always tell you know? Can hear the way your heart picks up when you lie, much different than the way it does when you’re about to come for me.”

His wrist starts to move faster, the heel of his hand finally pressing and rubbing against your clit as the muscles of his forearm start to strain. The telling signs of your orgasm feel too sudden, too fast, and with his hand still constricting the blood that tries to flow to your head all you can do is let your eyes roll as your breathing comes out as small puffs.

“But since you’ve asked so nicely,” you can only let out a pathetic cry when he pulls his hand away from you suddenly, your lack of oxygen being the only thing stopping you from letting out a scream loud enough for the whole block to hear as he denies you of any stimulation. All you can do is let out incoherent babbling and whines as your hands reach up to dig your nails into the leather jacket protecting his forearms.

He releases your neck, your skin burning from the friction and the sudden amount of oxygen and blood returning to your head making you dizzy. And while your eyes roll as they try to refocus and your heart rate begins to slow to normal, he grabs your wrists and pushes your weakened form to be flush against the wall thats scrapes against your exposed skin.

“You are by far the best thing ive ever tasted,” he mutters, not concerned with whether you heard him or not, before his mouth latches to the side of your neck. He seems to find the most interest in the finger prints he left behind, as he pulls the tender skin between his sharp teeth and works to create a bruise that won’t leave you for another week.

Regardless of denying you a proper release, he considers himself to still be a generous guy. As his tongue lays flat against the burning skin of your neck, he starts to kick at your feet until your clumsy legs are falling apart wide enough for him to press his thigh against your skin, and in the exact way he predicted, you can’t help but to begin grinding helplessly against him.

One of the main reasons the dress that you currently wear is one of his favorites, is the neckline. Low enough to show the expanse of your chest and just enough of your cleavage to make him salivate. He’s as transparent as glass with this love, especially as he mouth travels down between your collarbones and sternum.

You can hear a quiet pop in the fabric of the neckline when he bites down and begins to pull it with him as he sinks down to the floor, the huff you let out being both in frustration from him further ruining a nice dress and your impatience.

The straps dig harshly into the skin of your shoulders before they give and fall, the sudden lack of support making it easier for Haechan to take the fabric and expose your chest to the cold air.

The look in his eyes when you look down is mean and predatory, you fear one day he’ll snap and consume you whole, but for today he settles for wrapping his swollen lips around your nipple and sucking harshly.

Your hips quicken involuntary, broken moans filling the empty alley as you twitch and squirm in his hold. He seems to grow irritated at your impatience as he shoves your wrists back harshly, his knuckles audibly scraping against the brick.

“You can never be patient to save your life,” his head tilts forward and he presses his forehead against your sternum with a huff before he’s leaning back up to press a sloppy kiss against your panting mouth, “you’re lucky I missed you so much or otherwise you’d be in for a lot longer of a night.”

He keeps your wrists trapped in his hold as he moves to kneel on the ground, the rough and dirtied pavement doing nothing to help the tears that already litter his jeans.

You feel your face flush when he lets go of one wrist and uses his newly freed hand to shove the hem of your dress up and around your hips, and the burning beneath your skin only worsens when he leans forward and breathes deeply with his nose pressed against your pubic bone.

He leans back for a moment, his hand wrapping around the bend of your knee to pull your leg to rest on his shoulder and you feel your shoulder sting from the wall cutting into your skin from him moving you like a doll.

“Haechan,” you whisper his name out with a pout that you hope will get you exactly what you want, but you can only huff and petulantly twitch when he begins nipping and licking at the skin on the insides of your thighs.

His teeth are sharper than most, and he usually airs on the side of caution because he’s aware of this. His bites are gentle for the most part, but when you begin to peak in your feelings of impatience, you can’t help the way your hips begin jerking forwards in search of his tongue.

His palm pushing against your hip is his first warning, a generous one in his opinion, but when the warning seems to fly completely over your pretty little head he has no other choice but to lean forward and sink his teeth into delicate skin at the bend of your thigh.

You cry out for a second before you’re tucking your lip between your teeth. It stings terribly, the skin breaking around his teeth burns but you can’t stop the way you revel in the sharp pain. And at the exact same moment you taste the metallic ting of the blood falling from your bitten lip, you feel the same warm thick liquid drip from the wounds he’s created and straight into his grinning mouth.

More blood falls freely when he pulls his teeth from your flesh, his warm tongue flattening against the injury immediately to catch as much of the liquid as possible.

He laps at it for a moment, savoring as much of the taste of your life source as possible, before he starts at the bottom of the bite mark and drags slowly up.

Once his tongue moves off the wound, he continues across your skin. The moment he hits your labia, you let out a gasp and jerk against him again, your mind completely erasing the fact that the bite was meant to be a punishment for that exact thing.

He seems to have forgotten him wanting you to remain still, as he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest until his licking across your stil swollen bundle of nerves.

He moans as the flavor of your arousal mixes with the still lingering taste of your blood, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine and making you shiver.

He tilts his head up to smile at you, his eyes shining as he grabs your hands and moving them to thread into his curled hair.

“Why are you shivering?” he asks with a faux concern, his right hand smoothing over your thigh before pushing between your legs to return his fingers to their spot inside of you, immediately pumping and curling them slowly, “are you cold or something? Maybe it’s because you’re in such a skimpy little dress?”

You groan out in annoyance at his playful act, your eyes rolling back but for once not in pleasure. It’s not until he starts to proudly giggle to himself do you exploit the hold you have on the back of his head to push him back to your body.

You fear that being shoved around may be the exact thing Haechan would have wanted, when he happily moans before latching his lips to your clit again, but the pleasure that melts your muscles erases any need to call him out on his deviousness and perverted enjoyment.

He seems happy with your moving hips when they start to move against his waiting face. Your fingers mindlessly and desperately tug at his scalp as your head tilts back and thumps against the wall.

The hand that isn’t pressed deeply inside you slides across your hip, his callused fingers making goosebumps run up your arms as they push into your lower belly.

You can feel yourself fluttering around his fingers as the curl and push apart, your thighs tensing around his bobbing head as he licks and bites gently at your clit. It feels like it’s harder to catch your breath and you know you’re only moments from orgasm.

“Please, please,” you start to stutter the word over and over, praying both that he lets you come and that you’re neighbors are deep enough in sleep to not hear the noises you know will escape you.

You almost cry in relief when you feel his shoulders shift, his face and fingers both pressing deeper from the movement in a way that tells you he has no intention on letting up on your shivering body.

His blunt nails start to scratch into your skin and you can feel his heavy panting breath against your skin every time he begins to lap at you desperately. You can feel your muscles lose even more strength, and your head becoming heavier and dazed as he coaxed you closer and closer to your finish.

Your shoulders twitch up towards your ears and you feel your stomach clench as your back curves, small whines and whimpers leave you as the heel of your foot thumps against the space between his shoulder blades.

You gasp out when you feel it, them. They start as small bumps beneath your palms, and you feel your chest tighten when it clicks what they are.

He’s always had a good hold on controlling them, keeping them hidden so he can wreak havoc without being clocked as something inhuman. They had peaked out a few times, usually in moments like this, but it’s such a rarity that you can’t stop the way your heart begins to thump in your chest.

Out of everything about him, you were obsessed with all of him, but you loved his horns the most. They were small and sharp at the side of his head and the way he looks when they’re poking out amongst his curled hair, and especially when he was grumpy or mad, made you want to jump on him and kiss him all over.

You were so caught up and distracted by them growing to full size directly under your hands you forgot how sharp they were at their tapered ends. The reminder you get is when they sharply down push into your palms like thorns.

You gasp sharply, but the way they curl makes you afraid to pull away. It makes you tremble and flush with embarrassment, but the pain bleeding into your hands is the last straw on your nerves. All you can do is wrap your now bleeding hands around the horns and cry out into the cold air as your erratic hips move across his face.

He groans deeply against you as your nails scrape at the skin that surrounds the base of his horns, the feeling of his and his still moving tongue pushes you through and past your gasping orgasm.

You sign in relief when he finally detaches from your body, his mouth moving up to press your hip and across the space of your stomach the dress reveals. He puts your leg down slowly and he creeps back up your torso, now hyper aware of your wounded hands still stuck on his horns.

“Sorry my love, they’re kinda sharp aren’t they?” he rhetorically asks with a soft but guilty grin. He stays ducked down enough that your hands don’t go too high that they start to slip, and he follows with his own to help you detach them.

“I just keep making my mark on you tonight huh?” he sighs as he stands at full height and brings your still bleeding hands to his face. You grit your teeth and scrunch your nose when he gives you a knowing look that says ‘we both know what I have to do.’

He is quick and gentle when he swipes his tongue across the deep cuts in your hands, not wanting it to sting more than necessary.

A teasing grin fills his face when he looks up to see the tired pout on your face, “just like the one on your leg, there won’t be anything left than a bruise if you just wait like an hour,” he’s sincere in his words, and you know it works, but you still feel all wounded and tired.

“Take me home,” you demand, wrapping your slowly healing hands around his shoulders and leaning until your head rests against his shoulder.

“Hey now,” he contradicts his tone by wrapping his arm around your waist and helping guide you walk to your apartment, “you still have to feed Oscar, and take a shower, and I’m not even full yet so you have to let me play with you until I wear you out.”

His tone is far too genuine and loving for the words he says, and you swat weakly at his chest in annoyance, but all he does in response is a laugh.

[spinnitegaming]

Fantasy Life (Part 1) - Welcome to Reveria!

Hello and welcome again to my Fantasy Life playthrough! In case you missed it, I'm going to blog on my experience with my favorite, but underrated 3DS game of all time other than Pokemon. You can visit this link to learn more, but other than that, let's start the game!

So do you remember some videos and yourself on how you were stuck on the character creation screen on Final Fantasy 14 Online?

The same thing happened to me with this game! I spent a minute trying to match my character with my online persona, even trying to rely on Fantasy Online avatar so I could get the hair and voice right! Thankfully, choosing a Life was less tedious because the game lets me change it in the middle of the gameplay, so I decided to choose the very same first Life I chose on FLO, which was Paladin.

(Honestly, this is the easiest part of FL's character creation.)

As I mentioned, Life is another name for vocations and job classes in Fantasy Life. So if I mention Life or Lives, I might be talking about job classes or vocations in the game. Or probably the ones my Pokemon have that I'm trying to keep in my current FireRed Nuzlocke at this time of the post.

One small tip if you're planning to play Fantasy Life and Fantasy Life Online yourself: Always start with a Combat Life!

There are three types of Lives: Combat, Gathering, and Crafting. Combat for fighting, Gathering for gathering items. Crafting for...crafting stuff. But it's best if you start with Combat Life if you're starting the game. That way, you can learn how to fight quicker and gather items quicker from monsters. You can choose Gathering first if you want, but I don't recommend Crafting as your first unless you want to die because your only skill is cooking.

And a small spoiler alert for the DLC, but it's mainly gameplay spoilers. Later on in the post-game, I can change my character's appearance with an item. Unfortunately, the only downside is that I can't change my character's name and gender, which is understandable. I don't mind with the female clothing (which according to TV Tropes, female clothing has a lot of them, including the endgame gear), but I may play in a second save file, which I obviously can’t record on my blog due to redundancy, much preferably based on my certain favorite Pokemon Professor. (*coughs* Fanfic Foreshadowing! *coughs*)

But anyway, I named my new character "Spin" (because of character limitations) and started the new game.

(Click "Keep Reading" for the full playthrough post!)

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After I fell from my bed and woke up on the floor, my kind landlord, Pam came up to check on me and reminded me of my audience with the king of Castele for my first day as a new Paladin recruit. After I got my royal letter from a postman with a surprisingly good backhand, he directed me to the Guild Office where I could get my Paladin license and gave me her candy as she wished me luck.

Once I got my Paladin license, I heard a disturbance outside the office. I checked it out and saw a strange talking butterfly being harassed by two goofy guys. I know it was strange to see a talking butterfly, but I decided to ignore it and head to the castle.

That was until one of them suggested selling her for Dosh.

(...They're dead.)

Being protective of strange animals and who is against trafficking, I confronted the goofy guys with a knife. But they just grabbed me, shook me down like a ragdoll, and grabbed Pam's Candy from my pockets because I'm Doshless.

(Disclaimer: Most of it I've mentioned in the playthrough didn't really happen in the game, but it's my playthrough and I'm a writer. At least give me a chance to tell my version of FL's story!)

(BTW, had to add this god-tier line.)

After my attempt to rescue the butterfly ended in embarrassment, she thanked me for standing up and this was the part I started to like her and not think of her as a Navi wannabe.

BURN!!!

After we said our farewells, I headed to the castle to get started on my new Life. Unfortunately, the Paladins seemed to miss the memo and just denied me on the grounds that I didn't follow the castle's dress code and commented that I looked like I got out of my bed.

(But I just got out of bed!)

I left in defeat. But then, I saw the talking butterfly again, who also got denied because insects weren't allowed in the castle, which was a bit understandable, but still...

When we meet up again, we decided to go stealthy and let her disguised as my bowtie to get through the Paladins. Although I think it might have worked a bit too much.

Other than that, we finally made an audience to the king of Castele, Erik. Who for some reason looked like he's the Queen's child. After a long speech which I seemed to be the only one who was up, King Erik gave me 300 Dosh and a World Map to help me start my Life along with a Paladin armor.

(Even I'm shocked about it myself...)

With that done, the butterfly and I decided to part ways yet again. However, it kind of stings a bit on my itty-bitty heart. She wasn't like any Navi wannabes I know and she has the guts to insult those goofy guys before. But then, she suggested she want to stay on my neck and I quickly said yes. So welcome to the team, Butterfly!

(I agree!)

Although, calling her "Butterfly" might be a bit too long for me, so for the sake of my sanity, I'll just call her Flutter, which was her English name in the EU release.

After that, I headed to the Paladin Hold located near the castle where I met my Paladin Master, Captain Mustang, who had a big mustache and nose. He gave me a sword and shield to start with and my journey through Reveria has officially begun! But right after I start with the Paladin basics and rank up.

In Fantasy Life, you can get even stronger in any chosen Life by ranking up. You start out as a Novice rank where you spend the whole time learning the basics, getting to know your fellow characters related to it, and doing some big quest to rank up into your true first rank, Fledgling.

For my Paladin Novice quest, I got to learn the basics from my Paladin senpais, Roslyn and Isobel, namely how to use my sword without poking my eye out by accident. However, when we went to Porthos to help me learn how to wield my shield, he mentioned that something has happened in Appleseed Cafe and when he got there, the owner there told us that shipments of Castele Apples were delayed for some reason. I love Apple Juice next to grapes, mango, and orange, so we decided to investigate and stop a bunch of bandits before they took off with the bag of apples.

Turns out, the princess of the castle (who I forgot to mention went missing during my meeting with King Erik earlier) loved Apple Juice, too. And because of my bravery, I was promoted into a Fledging and officially the newest addition to the Paladins.

When I went home, I introduced Pam to my new friend, Flutter and agreed to let her stay with me as a roommate along with giving me a new chair. Keyword being "New" because all I got was an old beat-up chair. Great...

Eventually, I went to bed and my Fantasy Life has begun!

But the next day, I woke up on the floor again.

(Ow...)

After my rude awakening again, I decided to be Flutter's tour guide around Castele and showed her the Goddess Statue. There, we met an old man who told us the origins of Lives and the Life Goddess. Back before Reveria had Lives, the goddess came and helped create the world or something and even heard the wishes of the people. But it turned out that the goddess became a bit annoyed at hearing all of their wishes, that she decided to create Lives and shove it to their faces so they could shut up.

(Oh, wait. That's a bit of a rude retelling, was it? Let me try again.)

The goddess eventually succeeded in convincing people (in a civilized manner) to take a Life and because of that, she became a Life Goddess. However, the old man told us that lately, more people were wishing less, probably because they got what they wanted through hard work and sometimes, trickery and thievery. I'm a bit concerned about it, but Flutter won't stand for it for some reason and took it upon herself to collect wishes. I don't know why, though. But I applaud her determination.

She then asked for my wish, which was to become a writer. It's actually one of the choices prompted to me and honestly, that was my dream in real life and I would never change it for the better. Heck, I'm even living the dream just by doing this playthrough blog right now.

But back to the game, I toured her around the Guild Office where we learned how to switch Lives and multiplayer (which I doubt I can use for this playthrough) and the general store where I got some potion samples from the shopkeeper while Flutter tried them out by drinking most of them.

At this point, I should move forward to the story, but I decided to put it on hiatus so I could focus on trying out the other Lives. This is very important for my playthrough for what was to come. You have the option to skip the Novice tutorials, but I decided not to skip all of them for the sake of my playthrough. However, this is a bit long enough already, so I'll save them in the next post.

So join me next time as I take on all other 11 Lives in the game. It might be a long playthrough of tutorials.

I'll see you guys back in Reveria, probably tomorrow or so once I'm finished all of them. Stay safe and Happy Holidays!

[imnoexpertblog]

Don't Stress, You're Blessed

This is the Health & Beauty Blog! I’m going to switch this up and gear it towards health this time; mental health at that. I have had a really hard two weeks, and it seems to keep dragging on. I’ve mentioned how hard it is to sleep lately, in the heat and light and noise. So to put you in my shoes, cut the amount of sleep you want to get in half these past couple weeks. The heat also makes it hard for me to eat. It’s hard to be happy when I don’t feel well, either. Now add being nauseous or having a headache from lack of sleep and food. Next, pretend it’s also shark week (what I nicknamed my period, its funny). Hormones are a-raging. Lastly, add anything that may stress you out, big or small. You’re now turned me into someone you really aren't. Someone you don’t even like. You're not you anymore. And it sucks.

I’m weird in the way that I can handle big problems/stressors very well. I can hold myself together (and everyone else, too). I can carry a great deal on my shoulders when I have to. The weird part is that I fall apart over the small things instead. Those are the things that push me over the edge. I can’t afford to fall apart during the big stuff, so sometimes I crumble with what most people would consider small or minor things. This is pretty hard on the people around me and I need to manage my reactions better.

First thing (for me) to stress less and be happier AND healthier; SLEEP MORE. I know getting enough sleep is very important. I know it. I used to sleep NO LESS than 8 hours a night. No matter what. It was a huge priority of mine. Sleep is still important to me and I still try to sleep as much as I can. But. Sleeping during the day is different. Besides the heat, noise, and light, things are happening during the day. Let’s walk you through something pretty common for me. Can’t get an appointment with the dentist until 10 am? Well it looks like I will have to attempt (and fail) at a short nap when I get home at 7:15 am. I do have to get up at 9:00 am anyway so maybe I won’t even sleep until after the appointment. Get home from appointment at 11:30am. Well, I will hopefully get 5 hours of sleep before Baby and Nugget get home this evening. Unfortunately, I can’t sleep through much anymore. So many things can wake me up very easily. At this point, I have awaken at 1:30, 2:45, and now 3:45. I’ve probably gotten about 3 and a half hours of sleep. I can’t fall back asleep. Guess I am up for good. My boys will be home in an hour or so, anyway. Maybe I will get a few more hours of sleep in before work at 11:00 pm. Maybe not. That is something I have to deal with all the time. Even if I don't have an appointment, I am woken up by the landlords cutting the grass or weed-eating, the neighbors hanging decorations up on the walls, sirens from police and ambulances on the nearby highway, etc. Falling back asleep can be really difficult after/during these instances. It feels like I can't catch a break.

Then for food. If I can’t fuel my body adequately, how can I expect to feel healthy? Trust me. I am well aware of this. The issue is if I am hot and sweaty and uncomfortable, there is no way I will be eating anything. I’d gag on it if I tried. Honestly, need to get back into meal replacement shakes because I have no problem drinking my calories/meals. I also just need to pound water as much as I can. I've mentioned the Keto diet is low-carb, which makes it harder for me to retain water. I have hormonal migraines (meaning as long as I have shark week, I will get migraines), but I am sure that water would help out a lot in general.

Now for the outside stress. Tackling this is a big project. Sleep and diet can only do so much for you. So. First things first. We need to pinpoint what is stressing us out. You can’t fix something without knowing what is causing the issue. My stressors are adult things that I cannot really escape. Saving for a house and wedding is hard. Not knowing how much longer I can work third shift is hard. I more or less just need to stop worrying about money, continue to save, and look into first shift positions. I tend to get worked up about the unknown very easily. That’s my anxiety. At least I know and recognize this. What is stressing you out? Money? School? Work? Explore your emotions and why you feel the way you do. It always points to something. Some say writing about your stress helps. Journaling what is stressing you out, how you feel about it physically and emotionally, how you are reacting/responding to it, and how you relieve that stress. Things like this are helpful to refer back to, especially when trying to stop a cycle or pattern. Or if you are trying to instill better habits.

Now that we hopefully know what is stressing us out, we can try to avoid those things. Personally, I need to notice when I am overthinking and put an end to it. That’s a big issue in my life. Something may not be a big deal, but I can’t stop thinking about it over and over and over (anxiety) until it’s become a huge problem in my mind. A problem so big that I work myself into a panic or rage. Something else that seems to really weighs on me is what my family thinks of me and what I am doing with my life. I mentioned in my first blog post, Let Me Explain… and About Me that my parents have put a lot of pressure on me to succeed ever since I was pretty young. I've taken over the role for them since having moved out four years ago. I know they think highly of me, are proud of me, and expect nothing less than excellence. I now do the same to myself. The feeling of letting them down or disappointing them absolutely terrifies me. I need to learn to let go a little bit. I know they love me and that they are fully aware that I do my best when it comes to anything. Easier said than done, but these feelings I get are unnecessary. They may be warranted, but that doesn’t mean they are obligatory. Its not like anyone in my family makes me feel inadequate; I really do this to myself out of fear. My desire to make them proud is very driving (and driving me nuts LOL). Are there things in your life you can cut to avoid any extra stress? Do you need a new job schedule? New job in general? Are there certain people that you shouldn’t have in your life? Are there things you have been putting off that need to get done?

If there are things you absolutely can’t stay away from, you can try to change the situation. There are things you can control. I knew I was behind on sleep this week so I took a day off to catch up. You can also change the way you handle a situation to make it less stressful. My personal example it that I can’t avoid the fact that we need to save money so I made changes in my budget to make it easier. Compromise isn’t always fun but it is a must. It would be very difficult to save money if I shopped every Friday or went out to eat a few times a week, but I cut those things out of my budget.

As much as I don’t use this tactic in the moment, I really think it’s great. Think about the cause/issue of your stress. Will this even matter in 5 hours? Will it matter tomorrow? Next week? Next month? Next year?! Most of the time; HELL no. Then why does it matter now? It doesn’t. Don’t let your emotions run you or control how you react. It is so easy to be bothered sometimes; to worry. But isn’t life so much better when you’re happy? I really have to remember this one for the future. Also ask yourself if you’re being realistic in your expectations of something. I cannot expect everything to always go according to plan, no matter how badly I wish it would. I get very bent out of shape when routines are hindered. I crave structure and consistency. The minute something has to change unexpectedly, I immediately get anxious. Realistically, that is normal. I cannot control everything. I just need to remind myself of this.

Something that helps: TALKING. I encourage you all to talk about this stuff. With whoever you want. Family, friends, spouses, a professional, anyone. Sometimes I think I talk too much, vent too much, complain too much, but it’s actually how I work through these things. It’s also sometimes how I realize I am being ridiculous. It helps you discover things like why you feel a certain way, what might help, etc. When the issue is out of your hands and you can’t do anything about it, talking can still be therapeutic and helpful. You can also use the typical advice of relieving stress through physical activity. SO many people go to the gym. Take a break and do something new or fun?

The last thing I want to touch on is something I really struggle with in these stressful moments; being positive and forgiving. Rather than focus on what went wrong, I need to remember what is right. There are silver linings, and those are the things to pay attention to. Things happen that aren’t anyone’s fault. There just isn’t anyone/anything to blame sometimes and that is okay. Even if there is someone to blame, letting go is better than holding it against them. Turning energy into hate and resentment is a waste. You should use your energy towards being happy.

Baby is always there to take my venting, my frustrating, my monster. Whether he deserves it or not. He is so patient and understanding. Although I appreciate it, that can only last so long. There are only so many apologies I can give before they don't mean anything. I don’t want to be the monster I am when I am overwhelmed. I don’t want him to have to ever feel like he’s “putting up” with me. He is there for me to lean on, not use as a punching bag. He knows why I get like this sometimes but that isn’t an excuse to be that way. I need to practice what I’ve just preached and harness this energy I have in being frustrated and difficult, and redirect it to being the happy person I know I am. I have too good a life to be unhappy.