#but sometimes words can have heavier meanings than actions

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][semi-public][idk man, feet? Like, she does some things but not with her dawgs out][handjob][nipple play][standing sex][unprotected sex][blowjob][implied snowballing]

"Why are you mewing?"

"What?"

Your question breaks Kento's reverie, that little bubble in which he is optimally productive and narrowed eyes raise to meet your gaze.

You look like the picture of leisure.

A pen spinning idly on your nimble fingers, your elbow resting on your desk and the plethora of colourful pens you'd stuck in your hair in an attempt to get Kento to smile. You have yet to succeed at that, but you pay it no mind, shifting closer to your desk, the wheels of your chair scuff against the linoleum floors and you rest both elbows on your desk.

"Mewing." You repeat. "The model thing?"

You elaborate vaguely and you watch as those thin, blonde brows crease into a frown, upper lip curling in distaste at the fact that you keep teaching him urban slang without his consent.

"I don't need to mew."

Kento dismisses, slender fingers moving through his sandy blonde strands, not even tousling them in an unattractive way, and you let out a whistle.

"Not you flexing your face card." You tease and you feel a sick sense of fulfillment when he lets out that heavy sigh, removing his freaky glasses and pinching the bridge of his perfect (and rideable) nose.

"I hate that I know what those words mean." Kento complains, before tugging on his tie, loosening the knot up just a bit.

"You look tired." You hum softly. "Your eyebags are heavier than usual. Overtime?"

"Another Curse." He responds lazily, slumping the tiniest bit against the back of his chair and Kento lets out a heavy groan.

"I want to quit."

The words aren't unusual when it's Kento. He's a man who loves complaining about things, and you're already fishing in your bag for your second lunch box, sliding it across the surface of your desks. He takes it, without hesitance, opening it up and picking up the sandwich, raising it to his mouth to take a generous bite.

Mayonnaise rests at the corners of his mouth but you don't hesitate to lean over, wiping away the messes with your thumb.

And Kento's lips quirk into a smile at the action.

'Wife' isn't a term everyone gives to anybody, and 'friend' isn't a term he'd give anybody.

But you somehow manage to be both. Except wife, but you're a variant: his workwife.

You behave just like a wife would. Greeting him with a coffee every morning, despite the fact that he gets his own on his way to work but always orders an extra small so that he can see the smile on your face when you slide that '#1 Husband' cup across his desk.

You listen to him complain, occasionally straighten his tie that he's left intentionally crooked just to feel the brushes of your fingertips against his skin.

And it's the little quirks.

When you work hard, you're so focused. Everytime he passes by your desk on his way to the bathroom, he sticks one of your colourful pens into your hair and it's gotten to the point where Kento just goes to the bathroom, because he wants to see the way your face tugs with confusion whenever you redo that bun and your stationery clatters to the floor.

You pack him in lunches, you talk to him all the time despite the fact that sometimes, he'd like to hear you talk with your mouth full.

Kento remembers important dates, like your birthday, your parents' anniversary, the day you found whatever stray you managed to find a home for and your doctor's appointments (which he schedules for you).

He buys little trinkets, small baubles that remind him of you and you do the same. Kento's desk has a little ornamental seashell that you gave him when you visited the beach in your hometown. Your desk has a little ornamental Big Ben replica from Kento's trip to London to get rid of a Curse.

"Kento?" Your voice brings him back, but so does the sight of your manicured fingers, snapping in front of his face. "Ken? You okay?"

Ken.

Ken.

Ken.

The sound of your voice calling him that, so soft and so sweet, makes it even harder to conceal the large bulge in the front of his slacks and Kento clears his throat.

"Hm? Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking."

You know better than to ask, so instead, you do what you always do. Your kitten heel bumps against Kento's dress shoe, in a small act of almost childish affection and Kento's tuts you.

"You shouldn't be wearing heels for too long."

A muscular hand grasps your ankle, carefully undoing the buckle and he slides your heel off. One foot at a time, and he rests your one foot in his lap, while absentmindedly massaging the arch, his thumbs enjoying the feel of the pantyhose against his finger pads.

"You know, I have no idea how you're not married or at least, seeing someone." You state, your toes curling with each press of Kento's thumb to your foot, easing aches you didn't even know were there.

"No woman would be okay with the fact that her partners goes to work and massages another woman's feet." Kento hums, eyes lowered to your feet as he presses, the sight of your manicured toes shielded by semi-transparent hosiery isn't something he thought he needed to see.

But God, was he wrong.

He likes that your toenails are the prettiest shade of nude, so lovely with your complexion. Manicured, trimmed, filed, perfect.

"Then maybe don't massage my feet?" You suggest, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you watch Kento with a bored, almost lovey stare.

He's a gorgeous man.

Small, hazel eyes, thin eyebrows (they're natural, you asked), perfect hair and a perfect body. But you're not too focused on his body when it comes to his jaw.

A jawline so sharp it could cut glossy wrapping paper without a single fault.

"No." Kento's voice brings you to the forefront of your mind and you let out a laugh, lowering your feet from his lap and setting them on the lush carpet beneath your feet. And you lean over, cradling Kento's face in your hands and you don't miss the way his expression softens the tiniest bit.

Brows relaxing, jaw unclenching and you brush your thumbs across his cheekbones.

"You're too perfect for this world."

Kento's barely even there, working on documents like he's on autopilot, muscular hands scribbling details into blocks and he occasionally pauses to push up his goggles. And you can't help it.

Brushing your foot up his calf, and.... Nothing.

Light work, no reaction.

Your foot shifts, trailing up Kento's thigh and only when your foot reaches where you assume the leg of his boxers would end, do his eyes lift to meet your stare.

"Yes, wife?" He hums and you feel that tingle in your stomach. He calls you that like it's your name and it makes your ears itch in only a way your ankles can scratch.

"No, nothing." You shake your head. "Just wanted to see you get nervous."

"Won't work, try harder."

Kento's eyes lower back to the stack of paper in front of him, a new challenge being brought to the front of your braincell and you act boldly.

Placing your foot right over his bulge.

His really hard, really big bulge. And you swallow, eyes widening and Kento doesn't even glance up at you.

"Didn't think it through, did you?" He teases and you shake your head. "I did not."

But when you move to move away your foot, Kento's hand grasps your ankle in a pretty firm grip, and his free hand just continues to page through the stack.

And he keeps your foot there.

"Finish what you started."

The closet is stuffy, the fluorescent light is intense and it makes sweat accumulate on the back of your neck, droplets dribbling down into the collar of your shirt but you don't notice it.

Of course you don't. Not when Kento's tongue is in your mouth, his hands resting on your waist, thumbs brushing against the curve of the underside of your breasts and his cock, fucking into your hand at the slowest, most painstaking pace.

Kento's big.

Long, thick, with the prettiest little tuft of hair just above his base. He's a neat man, but he's a messy man, beads of precum sliding down his shaft, wetting your palm and making the most obscene sound that echoes in the quietness of the supply closet.

Boxes and boxes surround you. Standard office supplies, sticky notes in every colour, boxes of highlighters and gel pens adjusted to be comfortable for the grip of an office worker. Japan really is ahead of it's time when it comes to stationery, but the thought leaves your mind when Kento kisses your neck.

He's gentle, and slow, but his hands make light work of your blouse, lowering his head to press a kiss to that delicate little 'v' between your clavicles and he shudders out a breath.

"Your hands feel so good...."

Kento breathes out, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they form stiff peaks, painfully hard and just... Begging for attention from his soft, warm tongue.

"But you take such good care of your hands." He adds softly, pressing kisses along the swell of your breasts, soft tits to adorn with kisses and gentle lovebites that'll leave bruises for only your eyes.

And hopefully his.

"I like your manicure." Kento sighs quietly. "Is that with the money of our bet?"

You only nod your head. You're not able to do much when his warm fingertips are tugging so teasingly on your nipples, your head tipping back against a shelf and you let out a panted breath.

Your hand strokes him just a bit faster, your wrist having the slightest bit of torsion as you work his already weepy cock, squeezing your hand the tiniest bit tighter when you get to the tip.

The flushed, pink and rosy tip, crying thick beads of precum, twitching with each movement you make.

You're barely focused on the pens that clatter out of your hair, tumbling to the floor when Kento lifts you from the cool tiles, guiding your legs to wrap around his narrow waist.

A hole is easy to rip into your nylons, and you're pulling your panties to the side with hazy eyes and a fuzzy brain, and your body turns to a flurry of static when he slides into you.

You're so warm.

So wet and so so tight, Kento buries his face in your neck as he shifts you in his arms. He's so happy you're not wearing that pencil skirt, instead, he gets to watch the fluttering mauve fabric of your skirt slide down your thighs and rest at the crease of your hips, while his forearms hook beneath your knees.

Kento fucks into you like a man with all the time in the world. Cock dragging against your gummy insides, nudging at your cervix with the cutest, lingering pecks. All as Kento's lips find purchase around one of your taut nipples, suckling and dragging his tongue along the bud.

Your nerves are tingling.

Your fingers card through his hair, nails digging into the back of his neck and Kento's warm breaths brush across your skin, doing nothing to ease the goosebumps that spatter across your flesh. And you whine, a low sound that echoes through the room and your hips roll to meet each of Kento's thrusts.

And a low groan leaves his lips, shifting you a bit more and he begins to move you. Up... Down... Up... Down...

The repetitive motion and the delightful tingle that makes your toes curl in your heels, the scratch of his fuzzy pubic bone brushing against your clit is one of the leading sensations that make your brain glitch.

"You're tighter than I imagined."

Kento breathes out, peeking up at you from between your breasts, and that's... That's what gets you.

Fluttering walls spasm around Kento's cock, trickling liquids dribbling down his cock as your hips buck and twitch. He kisses you.

Deep and long, like his strokes, and Kento's tongue drags against the roof of your mouth. He drinks your moans like sweet nectar, swallowing each breath and sound like they're heaven themself.

You're on your knees in front of Kento before you know.

You can see he's close. The way he twitches, flushed crown dripping onto your tongue before your lips wrap around his tip, your hands following in suit. Your thighs are still shaking when you're sucking his cock, hands stroking him in tandem.

Clockwise, anticlockwise, up and down.

You feel Kento's fingers carding through your hair, keeping your head in place as he grips the shelf above him with such desperation that you can hear the wood splinter.

Kento's hips stutter when he comes.

Shooting warm pulses of cum into your warm, wet mouth, painting your tongue in that pretty pearlescent fluid that tastes distinctly like.... Cinnamon and pineapple.

"Don't swallow." Kento whispers softly, guiding you to your feet and his body presses against yours, his hand coming to cup your cheek while the other rests on the curve of your hip.

"Spit it back in my mouth, wife."

[hahskeleton]

you never realize how hard it is to put into text online how much you appreciate someone and what they’re doing until you actually try it

[rubyvhs]

early mornings | sam & dean

tags. pure fluff, mentions of sex once, 800 words lailas notes. loved doing this, first time trying headcannons style nd you didn’t specify so I did both sam and dean. theme inspired by @sammyluvr their’s is honestly so so gorgeous.

sam winchester !

— .✦ You both had sex the night prior, and so Sam is the sweetest human in the morning. It's in the bunker and you're still asleep but he wakes up for his five am runs and just admires you for ten minutes.

— .✦ You eventually wake up and at first are very much panicking. Where is he, did you do something wrong, is he mad.

— .✦ He comes back with breakfast. In bed. 

— .✦ "Sam, I'm really impressed that your best quality isn't your di—"

— .✦ "I'm trying to do something sweet." Yeah but why would he do it if not to hear your teasing?

— .✦ You also just hide your insecurities behind jokes and banter so maybe that's why Sam shut it down when he heard it. You both eat in bed and he picked up your favorite which makes you fall in love (and scream inside) a thousand times more. 

— .✦ You're so insanely terrified but you're also comfortable. He's your best friend and now he's something so much more. You thought yesterday was a one off but he's so clearly in this for the long run that you're beaming the entire day. It's the best morning you've ever had.

— .✦ He even tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, which is just so very fairytale Sammy. And it makes you feel unreal. 

— .✦ He's surprised when you kiss him after you're both done and off the bed. He's even more surprised when you don't immediately leave his room, instead shower in his bathroom and change into his clothes. 

— .✦ He kisses you the second he sees you in his flannel. And he blushes like crazy.

— .✦ Sam hopes he can spend the rest of his mornings in bed with you, and if all it takes is some breakfast he's more than ready.

— .✦ He tells Dean he'll be looking for cases in his room today and doesn't let you go. He never wants the morning to end. He spends the day in bed with you, your head on his lap or his chest, anything as long as you're touching him. 

dean winchester !

— .✦ Your alarm blares AC/DC and he wakes up with a jump, arming his gun under the pillow until he sees that there's no threat.

— .✦ He almost wakes you up just out of principal because why the fuck is your alarm doing nothing to you but waking him win a frenzy.

— .✦ Then he notices how cute you look, hair ruffled on the bed. Your soft breaths make him smile and he leans down to kiss your hair. He's blissed out for a moment and forgets about what you did to him. 

— .✦ Then he checks the time and it's already eleven which means that was your emergency alarm (in case you don't wake up at a reasonable time, you mentioned once). 

— .✦ "Sweetheart, wake up." He says, against his will. He only slightly shakes you but you get up pretty easily since someone else is touching you. You've always been a much heavier sleeper than Dean, not being a hunter from such a young age and all that.

— .✦ He's surprised to see how quickly you get up and into the bathroom to brush your teeth and take a shower (which he joins you in) and then get dressed.

— .✦ But that's about as much as he lets you do. He knows you're an action type of person but that means that sometimes you might not take a moment for yourself and just feel instead, which is the worst thing Dean can think of. 

— .✦ He doesn't want that for you so he gets you back in bed (after he makes it, you're very picky) and you spend a good few minutes above him, straddling his body as you both talk about random things, mostly the plan for the day and it's the most domestic Dean's ever felt. 

— .✦ Your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat, it's everything he's ever wanted. Someone to want to be alive with because the only reason you stay alive is to share it with someone else. (After a while Sam doesn't cut it and he'd rather have you over his pain-in-the-ass little brother any time.)

— .✦ You eventually do get on with the day and walk around the bunker, find cases, go grocery shopping, but Dean only does all of those things in suspense of what's to come the next morning; which is another lazy few hours with this ‘one’.

[lune-moon-nuit]

Thoughts about Mike I had last week while watching the middle of season 4

While watching Season 4 last week (yes, I’m extremely late to the party), I’m truly astonished at how misunderstood Mike is by much of the fandom and the general audience. It’s clear that Mike from Seasons 3 and 4 often comes across as an awkward idiot who can hurt others with his words or actions—particularly Will and El. This starkly contrasts with how he behaved in Seasons 1 and 2. However, it seems people overlook an important factor: Mike is now a teenager. A teenager who already carries a significant amount of trauma yet isn’t in a position to complain, because he has always been the friend or boyfriend supporting the “main victim” of the story.

Mike was traumatized by Will’s disappearance, by the abnormal events and creatures that turned their lives and town upside down. He has witnessed countless deaths—just in the episode I recently finished in Season 4, he literally watched a government agent die right in front of him after barely surviving a shootout, and he even helped bury the body himself alongside Jonathan, Will and Argyle. Let’s not forget that Mike has also come close to death multiple times. The list of what he’s endured is long. Yet through all of it, he was just a child, then a teenager.

While it’s true he’s sometimes hurtful or clumsy in his behavior toward El—primarily out of awkwardness—people forget that this is his first romantic relationship. And not just any relationship: one forged under extraordinary circumstances. El herself couldn’t initially distinguish between familial love and romantic love, and Mike was subtly pushed into seeing El romantically, thanks to a heteronormative society and remarks like Lucas’s, which suggested a boy taking care of a girl must mean he “likes” her. After all, in such an environment, a boy and girl can’t just share a bond of care without romantic undertones.

Another critical detail the fandom seems to overlook relates to Will. In Season 1, at just 10 to 12 years old, Mike had suicidal thoughts. He literally jumped off a cliff, unaware that El would use her powers to save him. He had no idea. He made a deliberate choice to jump, hiding behind the bully’s threat toward Dustin. But let’s be honest—anyone with a natural survival instinct wouldn’t so easily choose to leap to their death, even under pressure. Mike knew he had no chance of surviving that fall. It was deliberate.

So we must ask: What drives a 12-year-old boy to feel so hopeless, despite having friends and a family who love him? By now, we know that Mike, alongside Will, was a target of relentless bullying, much of it homophobic. Even Mike’s father made homophobic remarks in Season 1, adding pressure that Mike likely didn’t fully comprehend. At the cliffside, hope for finding Will alive was nearly gone. Mike had lost all hope. I genuinely believe that for him to have reached that point, the weight of his struggles was far heavier than we realized.

Mike has suffered immensely. He was already dealing with significant psychological distress in Season 1, which continued to accumulate. In Season 1, his focus was on finding Will. In Season 2, it was on protecting and saving Will. In Season 3, he acted like a “normal” teenager, but he was still targeted—being threatened violently by an adult who lashed out simply because Mike was behaving like any other boyfriend with El. Instead of questioning the why behind his actions, people just blamed him. In Season 4, rather than asking why Mike struggles to express his love for El, the audience blames him for supposedly not loving her enough.

But if Mike is confused—if he struggles to articulate his feelings—why is that? Mike has always been the devoted friend and boyfriend, but the series rarely highlights the immense psychological toll this has taken on him. His reactions, in truth, are quite logical and normal. Especially when you consider the more-than-plausible theory that Mike is either bisexual or homosexual. His internalized homophobia, combined with societal pressure in the 1980s, the fear of judgment, the fear of himself, and his confusion about his own feelings, all align perfectly with his behavior in Seasons 3 and 4. After all, adolescence is when most people begin to explore their sexual identity, desire, and emotions.

Take his words to Will, where he mentions their meeting in kindergarten as “the best thing that ever happened to him.”Mike’s connection to Will is profound. But being a gay teenager in the 1980s—while also not wanting to hurt El, whom he deeply cares for and feels responsible toward—would mean he’s carrying immense self-hatred, frustration, anger, fear, anxiety, depression, guilt, and the overwhelming sense of being “wrong” (a feeling Will also experiences).

All of this makes me believe that Season 5 could greatly benefit from focusing on Mike by making him Vecna’s target. Vecna would have plenty to exploit: Mike’s traumas, his unspoken suffering, and his struggles with his sexuality. It would be a perfect way to force Mike to confront who he is and what he feels for Will—while also allowing Will to learn the truth. Such a storyline would introduce rich internal conflict, both for Mike and for their relationship.

Considering how explicitly queer-coded Mike is in Season 4, it would be an enormous waste not to explore this as a central narrative thread in Season 5. Doing so would not only bring Will and Mike’s relationship to the forefront but would also give us a deeper look into Mike’s psyche—all the pain he has endured silently, all the while remaining loyal and supportive toward Will and El. Mike has worried for them, searched for them, protected them, and fought for them. It’s time the series recognizes that, even without powers, Mike is the heart of the group. Without him, everything falls apart.

[yeyinde]

thank you for tagging me @ivymarquis ! i debated between this, the regency fic (fleshed out), or one of the other Price fics i'm working on (home from college for the summer and seducing hot older neighbour Price whomst you had a crush on since sixteen (aka daddy issues, the playbook), DomPrice, etc), but i think the Soap fic will probably be finished before all of those. so, here is the baby trap piece with Soap.

nothing smutty but this def captures their odd, imbalanced dynamic perfectly, i think:

“And you have no cellphone? No satellite phone?”

“Ye can check it—” he makes a flippant motion toward the glove box in front of you. “Deader than ever.”

You hesitate only briefly. Long enough to level him with a searching look that yields no results (every expression hidden behind a thick, unruly forest of overgrown hair jutting out to his Adam's apple) before you reach for the compartment, gingerly pulling it open, and—

Sometimes, things get overlooked by their surroundings. Swallowed in the vacuum. Blending seamlessly into the muddle, the commotion. Or hidden. Can you spot the mountain lion in this tumble of rock and bush?

This isn't like that. 

It sits on top of a manila folder. Sleek black and cold silver. You're not terribly well-versed in guns—the extent of your knowledge stemming mostly from formulaic crime shows aired late at night; CSI, NCIS, Criminal Minds—but you recognise this one instantly. Some sort of handgun. Police issued, you think. It's bigger than you'd expected. Looks heavier, too. 

Your heart stutters. The air galloping out of your lungs in a stammering rush. 

He makes a noise, soft and nonchalant, as if keeping handguns in the glove box of his old, burnt umbre truck is perfectly normal. 

“Fer protection,” he mumbles. You catch the jerk of his chin in your periphery. “Forgot I had it in here. Been usin’ the rifle for huntin’ mostly. Or the shotgun.”

Three guns. You swallow. “Why—” your voice comes out in a brittle whisper. You clear your throat. Pretend it helps, that you don't feel as vulnerable as you sound right now. “Why, um, why do you need three?”

“Not fae around ‘ere, are ye?” He echoes your words from earlier with a wry twist of his mouth, eyes slanting in the sunlight. “Tha’,” he takes his hand off your thigh to jab his finger at the handgun. “Is fer wolverines.” His index finger falls, his thumb juts out. He jerks it over his shoulder. “Tha’ is fer huntin’. The shotgun back home is fer bears.” 

You try to move out of the way when his hand falls back to your thigh, but the pain radiating up your leg immobilizes you. There's not much you can do in this situation but endure.

Military. Wounded in action. Three guns. Touchy. 

You're not sure what to think. It would be easier if you couldn't. 

“What do you hunt?” You ask instead, glancing out the window to the barren landscape rolling out around you. There doesn't seem to be much in the jagged hills, towering mountains. 

“Gettin’ hungry? Donnae worry, doe. Go’ tha’ pesky hare I was tryin’ tae shoot on the ledge fer dinner tonight.” 

It's not much of a comfort. The idea of being injured—by accident, he claims—to such an extent over a rabbit makes you feel a little sick. 

“That's it?” 

“I can make a mean steak outta anythin’. Stews fer tougher meat. Fish, too—whitefish, arctic grayling, and lake trout. Learned how tae make a nasty fishfry from the locals in Nahanni Butte. Bannock, too. Got berries ‘round ma cabin. Caribou, Moose. Taste better in tacos or burgers. Mountain goat, Dall’s sheep. Been eatin’ better ‘ere than ah did at home.” 

“And you're—just allowed to hunt them?” The website advised of a permit through some special outfit needed to hunt when you requested your pass into the park. Said that only aboriginals were allowed to do so. “You're not—”

“Aye,” he cuts you off with a small nod. “No huntin’ in the park. But. We're not in the park anymore.”

“Where are we?” You ask again, firmer this time. 

“I told ye. Nearly home.”

“And where is home?” 

The way he sucks his teeth makes you recoil slightly. Wet. Irritated. As if he's tired of this conversation already. 

“Close.”

You don't let his flat tone deter you. “Are we—are we still in the Northwest Territories?”

“Thereabouts.” 

It's not an answer. It doesn't reassure you in the slightest. 

You open your mouth to say so, words curling on your tongue when he jerks his chin toward the handgun, brow furrowed. 

“Thought ye wanted tae check on the satellite phone.”

His tone is severe. A growl curdling the ends, pitching it down, down. Displeasure, irritation, blooms in the gnarled petals of witch hazel when he narrows them into slits. 

[vermilionsun]

(Feel free to ignore this request if you’re not comfortable writing it)

may I ask for some headcannons for Ais and Vere (separately please) whose s/o suffers from depression? Thank you 💙

Sure thing! Disclaimer! They/them for s/o because we love inclusivity!

TW! Depression (obvi) I tried to make the headcanons as general and "light" as possible, since everyone experiences depression differently

If anyone wants more angst or heavier/darker themes, send a req

And always remember; Seeking help is a sign of strength, not weakness.

Vere

✦ Unlike with most things, Vere isn’t here to play around. Due to his apathetic exterior and ribald attitude, most people tend to underestimate his ability to care about anyone other than himself, yet that's far from the truth. In reality, Vere is fiercely loyal to those he cares about and will go to great lengths to protect them, even if it means putting himself in harm's way a̶n̶d̶ r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ i̶n̶t̶o̶ t̶h̶e̶ S̶e̶n̶o̶b̶i̶u̶m̶'s̶ c̶o̶l̶l̶a̶r̶.

✦ He is there, okay? Even if he has to remind his beloved every other minute, he will.

✦ He will become their biggest supporter and advocate, their cheerleader in times of need, the person who will always be there to lift them up when they are feeling down.

✦ He is there to listen, to offer aid, and to provide a comforting presence and a fluffy tail during difficult times.

✦ Encourages them to seek a professional therapist or psychiatrist if needed and haven't already received such help. He will find the best resources and support available in all of Eridia. Plus, he offers to accompany them to their appointments.

✦ If he feels something's wrong with his s/o while other people are around, he will find a discreet way to ask them if they are okay or need to talk later in private. His s/o's well-being is his top priority.

✦ In addition, he always makes sure to check in with his s/o regularly to see how they are feeling. This includes visiting during work hours, bringing them their favorite snacks, and being available to listen whenever they need to talk—even if he has to sneak away.

✦ He'd get meals for his s/o when they are feeling down or stressed, run errands, or simply spend quality time together.

✦ He believes in showing his love and support through actions, not just words, and that small gestures of love can make a big difference. He always goes the extra mile through various small gestures or grand displays of affection—a surprise date night, a gift, a sketch of them, a handwritten love letter.

✦ Of course, if his s/o feels overwhelmed, he will respect their space and give them the time they need to themselves.

Ais

✩ He will prioritize his s/o’s well-being and make sure they know they are not alone in their struggles.

✩ He isn’t the type to push his s/o to talk about their feelings, but he’s there to will offer a listening ear without judgment, a shoulder to cry on, and a comforting hug when needed.

✩ This man is the  E P I T O M E  of patience.

✩ He will encourage his s/o to go outside, and find excuses to take them out with him.

✩ Otherwise, if they were staying home for extended periods of time, he’d make sure to distract them with activities they enjoy.

✩ Did I mention he's the word "comfort" personified?

✩ If there are other people around, he'd keep an eye on them and see how they're feeling. If he notices that they're getting overwhelmed or uncomfortable, he'll get them alone or somewhere less busy.

✩ He'd be more protective, a̶s̶ i̶f̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶'s̶ p̶o̶s̶s̶i̶b̶l̶e̶, making sure they have everything they need and checking in on their well-being.

✩ He'd encourage them to look for a therapist or counselor who specializes in depression to help them better understand and cope with it. He'd be there every step of the way.

✩ He'd always remind them that it's okay to not be okay sometimes, that they are not alone in their struggles, and that he will always be there to support them through all of it; there to listen, there to support, and there to love them.

[duachai]

원죄 ORIGINAL SIN PT 2 - YECHAN | 82MAJOR

There's something I have to say to you. If you promise you'll understand.

♱ PAIRING : YOON YECHAN X MALE READER

♱ SYNOPSIS : Two boys, grappling with their identities and the weight of religious expectations, find solace and forbidden connection during a church retreat. Amidst guilt, judgment, and longing, they discover the courage to confront their feelings and embrace the truth about themselves.

♱ CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains explicit sexual content and mature themes.

♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE : This was inspired by Yes, God, Yes (2019.) & the Korean film Original Sin

LINKS : Part One | Wattpad | Kofi

The following Sunday, the twins found themselves back at the church, their mother ushering them inside with the same hopeful enthusiasm. This time, M/n noticed that Yechan and Keeho were already seated in the pews, their Bibles resting on their laps. He felt a flicker of something, nerves, maybe? Yechan’s eyes briefly met his before darting away. 

During the sermon, M/n’s focus wandered. He tried to pay attention, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the subtle tension in Yechan’s posture and the way Keeho leaned in to whisper something that made Yechan smile. It was a small, fleeting expression, but M/n found himself oddly curious about what caused it. 

After the service, Mrs. Yoon once again suggested they head downstairs for Bible study. M/n groaned inwardly but followed along, Daena shooting him a knowing look as they descended the narrow staircase. 

This time, the room wasn’t as intimidating. The same kids were there, their chatter filling the air as they settled in. M/n sat at the table, this time directly across from Yechan. He noticed how the other boy avoided eye contact, his fingers fidgeting with the pages of his Bible. 

The youth leader, a cheerful woman with a bright scarf tied around her neck, began passing out worksheets. “Today, we’re talking about temptation and how to resist it,” she announced brightly. 

The words sent a jolt through M/n, who immediately felt like every pair of eyes in the room was on him. He ducked his head, pretending to focus on the worksheet, though his mind was to his actions of last evening. 

“Temptation can come in many forms,” the youth leader continued, her voice upbeat but firm. “It could be something small, like the urge to say something unkind, or something bigger, like breaking trust. And sometimes,” she added, lowering her tone slightly, “it’s a struggle within ourselves-a conflict between what we feel and what we believe is right.” 

M/n’s grip on his pen tightened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yechan glance up, his gaze lingering on M/n before quickly returning to his worksheet. 

They were tasked with filling in examples of temptations they struggled with, but M/n’s page remained blank. He stared at the empty lines, feeling a strange weight settle over him. Across the table, Yechan’s pen moved hesitantly. His fingers trembled slightly, and M/n couldn’t help but wonder if their struggles might not be so different. 

When it came time to share, Keeho was the first to speak. “For me, it’s definitely gossip,” he admitted with a small laugh. “I mean, have you met my sister?” The group chuckled, the tension easing slightly. 

Others shared in turn, each response met with nods and understanding smiles. But when it was Yechan’s turn, he froze. The room grew quiet, all eyes on him. 

“I guess…” he started, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced briefly at M/n before looking away again. “Sometimes it’s hard to… stay true to myself when I feel like people are expecting something different.” 

The words hung in the air, heavier than before. M/n felt his heart thud in his chest, the unspoken meaning striking closer to home than he expected. Yechan’s cheeks flushed, and he quickly looked down, his hand gripping the edge of the table. 

Before the leader could press him further, M/n cleared his throat. “I think… it’s easy to feel like you’re not enough,” he said, surprising even himself. His voice was steady, but his hands felt clammy. “Like you have to pretend to be someone else just to fit in. Or… to be accepted.” 

Yechan’s head lifted slightly, his eyes meeting M/n’s for a fleeting moment. There was something unspoken in that look-a mix of gratitude, recognition, and fear. 

The session ended with a prayer, and as the kids began to filter out, M/n found himself lingering near the door. Yechan was still at the table, slowly packing up his things. 

“You, uh… said some good stuff back there,” M/n mumbled, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. 

Yechan looked up, startled, before offering a small smile. “Thanks. So did you.” 

For the first time, their exchange felt… real. No awkwardness, no pretense. Just two boys trying to navigate an unspoken understanding that neither dared put into words. 

As they made their way upstairs to rejoin their families, M/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted-something small, but significant. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one wrestling with questions about himself. 

------ 

The twins stood in the church parking lot, their duffel bags slung over their shoulders, as their mom fussed over them with the enthusiasm of someone who believed this weekend would bring about divine transformation. 

“Remember, this retreat is about building your relationship with God,” she said, adjusting Daena’s collar and smoothing M/n’s hair. “And no sneaking off or getting into trouble, understood?” 

“Yes, Mom,” Daena replied dutifully, though her tone carried an edge of exasperation. 

“Uh-huh,” M/n muttered, shifting uncomfortably under his mom’s eager gaze. He glanced at the church bus idling nearby, its windows filled with the faces of kids he vaguely recognized from Sunday school and Bible study. His stomach churned. 

As they boarded, the youth leader, Sister Rachel, greeted them with her trademark smile. “Welcome, welcome! You’re going to have such a meaningful time!” 

M/n nodded, forcing a smile in return. Daena shot him a look, one eyebrow raised as if to say Yeah, right. 

The bus ride was filled with chatter and the occasional burst of laughter. M/n slumped into a window seat, trying to block out the noise, but his ears perked up when he heard a familiar voice. 

“Do you think they’ll make us do trust falls again?” Keeho’s sarcastic drawl floated from somewhere behind him. 

“Better than the sharing circle,” Yechan replied, his tone quieter but tinged with humor. 

M/n glanced over his shoulder and saw Yechan and Keeho sitting together, their heads bent close as they laughed about something. His heart did a weird little flip, and he quickly turned back to stare out the window. 

The camp itself was nestled in a wooded area, complete with rustic cabins and a large, open-air chapel. Sister Rachel wasted no time organizing them into groups, assigning tasks, and laying out the weekend’s itinerary, which included everything from team-building activities to nightly prayer sessions. 

“Boys’ cabins are on the left, girls’ on the right,” she announced. “Lights out at 10 p.m., and absolutely no crossing over! God is always watching!” 

M/n rolled his eyes, earning a smirk from Daena before they parted ways. 

The first day was a blur of awkward icebreakers and forced smiles. During dinner, M/n found himself seated at a table with Yechan and Keeho. The conversation flowed easily between the two friends, but M/n mostly kept quiet, content to observe. 

That night, as they settled into their bunks, the mood shifted. The older boys in the cabin started cracking jokes, the kind that skirted the edges of propriety but stopped just short of getting them in trouble. 

“So, anyone ever do it?” one boy asked, his grin mischievous. 

“Do what?” another shot back, feigning innocence. 

“You know… it,” the first boy said, waggling his eyebrows. 

A chorus of laughter erupted, and M/n felt his face heat up. He glanced at Yechan, who was sitting on the edge of his bunk, his expression unreadable. Keeho, however, seemed unbothered, throwing in a quip that had the whole cabin howling. 

Later, as the cabin quieted down and the other boys drifted off to sleep, M/n lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts were a tangled mess-snippets of conversations, lingering glances, and the weight of unspoken questions swirling in his mind. 

The next day, during a group discussion about sin and repentance, Sister Rachel handed out slips of paper and instructed everyone to write down a temptation they struggled with. The papers would be collected and burned during the evening prayer, a symbolic act of surrendering one’s sins to God. 

M/n stared at the blank paper in front of him, his pen hovering uncertainly. Around him, kids scribbled away, their expressions ranging from earnest to smug. 

“What are you writing?” Keeho whispered, leaning over. 

“None of your business,” M/n shot back, shoving the paper into his pocket. 

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow across the campgrounds as the evening prayer session began. The group gathered around a bonfire, the flickering flames casting long shadows over the gravel. M/n stood near the edge of the circle, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, trying to ignore the weight of the situation. 

Sister Rachel led them in prayer, her voice soft and welcoming. Everyone had already written down their struggles-temptations and sins they wished to confess-and now it was time for the ceremonial burning. The slips of paper were dropped into the fire one by one, each one representing a burden released. But to M/n, it felt like a performance, a way to feel better without really confronting anything. He hadn’t written anything down. What could he say? The truth? 

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a presence beside him. He turned slightly, finding Yechan standing quietly next to him. The firelight reflected in Yechan’s eyes, making his expression hard to read. 

“You didn’t write anything?” Yechan asked, his voice low but curious. 

M/n glanced at him, his chest tightening. “What was I supposed to write? That I feel like a fake?” His voice was barely a whisper, but he could feel the weight of his own words. 

Yechan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he took a deep breath, then pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He stared at it for a long moment before looking at M/n. “I wrote about something… I didn’t want anyone to know,” he confessed, his voice shaking slightly. “It’s hard to be honest in front of all these people. They… they make you feel like you're wrong for things you can’t change.” 

M/n tilted his head, studying Yechan. The boy was always so composed, so confident seeing him vulnerable, in this moment, made M/n feel less alone, but also more exposed. 

“What did you write?” M/n asked, his words tentative. 

Yechan hesitated, swallowing hard. “I wrote about the first time I… lost my virginity,” he said, his voice quiet but steady, his eyes glued to the fire as if it could swallow his words. “It was with another guy.” He paused, glancing at M/n. “And after, I felt ashamed. Not because I didn’t want it, but because everyone says it’s wrong. That it’s… a sin.” 

M/n’s heart pounded in his chest. He swallowed, his own past rising up like a wave, threatening to crash over him. He had never spoken about it—had never even let himself acknowledge it—but Yechan’s words felt like a lifeline, something he could cling to in the storm of his own confusion. 

“I—” M/n’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he could say the words. But looking at Yechan, at his open vulnerability, something in him cracked. “I was with a guy too,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “It felt good in the moment, but then I woke up the next day feeling like… like I’d done something wrong.” 

Yechan turned to face him fully now, his expression softening, as if he understood. “Yeah, exactly. Like we were just supposed to ignore it and go on with our lives, pretending it didn’t happen.” 

M/n glanced at the fire, feeling the heat on his face as if it could burn away all the shame that had been building inside him. “I don’t think it was a mistake, but everyone around me... they make me feel like it was. Like I'm going to hell for it.” 

Yechan nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “Same. It’s like they’re all just waiting for us to fail. Waiting for us to mess up so they can say, ‘See? That’s what happens when you don’t follow the rules.’” 

The flames crackled, popping as a log shifted, but in that moment, everything else around them felt like it faded into the background. It was just the two of them, standing there, their shared silence speaking volumes. 

“I don’t want to be judged anymore,” M/n admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “I’m just… so tired of pretending to be someone I’m not.” 

Yechan looked at him, his eyes thoughtful. “You don’t have to pretend. I don’t know what the right answer is, or if anyone does. But maybe... maybe we don’t have to hide who we are. We don’t have to make ourselves small to fit into their idea of what’s ‘right.’” 

M/n felt a strange, almost overwhelming sense of relief. The idea of being allowed to just be felt like a weight lifting off his shoulders. He didn’t know if he could live the way everyone expected him to, or if it was even possible, but at least in this moment, with Yechan standing beside him, it felt like there might be another way. 

“Do you think… do you think God would forgive us?” M/n asked softly, unsure why the question felt so important now. 

Yechan didn’t hesitate. “I think God would forgive anyone who’s truly sorry. But more than that, I think He’d want us to be honest. To not hide who we are or what we feel. That’s what I believe, anyway.” 

The fire crackled between them, casting dancing shadows across their faces as the air around them grew colder. M/n’s mind was swirling, his heart pounding louder than the rhythm of the fire. He had never felt this exposed, this raw before, even in his own thoughts. His mind wandered back to that moment—the first time he’d seen Yechan, the way his heart had skipped a beat, the way he couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

But here, now, in this place that promised to be a refuge, M/n couldn’t keep pretending that those feelings weren’t there. They weren’t just fleeting moments anymore. They had settled in his chest, burrowing deep into his heart. 

He swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. His eyes darted to Yechan, who was still looking at him, and for a brief second, he caught the vulnerability in Yechan’s gaze that mirrored his own. 

Finally, the words slipped out, soft and unsure but undeniable. “But... would God forgive me if I said I thought you were... were cute?” 

The silence that followed felt like a heavy weight pressing on M/n’s chest. His heart thudded painfully in his ears. He couldn’t believe he had actually said it out loud. His face burned with shame, but there was something else in him too—fear, hope, and the desperate longing to hear an answer that might change everything. 

Yechan froze, his eyes wide with surprise. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself, swallowing hard, his hands still tightly gripping his Bible. He looked down, his expression softening as if he were trying to make sense of what M/n had just said. 

For a moment, M/n thought he had overstepped, that Yechan might back away from him or call him crazy. But instead, Yechan looked back up, his eyes meeting M/n’s with an intensity that made M/n’s breath catch. 

“Honestly?” Yechan’s voice was quiet but steady. “I don’t know what God would say. But I think...” He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the fire, then back to M/n. “I think you’re brave for saying it. For admitting it. And... maybe that’s the first step to being okay with it.” 

M/n blinked, trying to make sense of Yechan’s words. “Brave? For thinking you’re cute?” 

Yechan chuckled softly, a short burst of laughter that eased some of the tension between them. “Yeah. Because we’re not supposed to say those things, right? We’re not supposed to feel them either.” He leaned a little closer, his voice dropping lower, almost conspiratorial. “But sometimes I think... maybe we’re wrong about all of it. About what we’re supposed to feel, and who we’re supposed to be. Maybe God isn’t about fitting into some mold. Maybe He just wants us to be honest.” 

M/n’s chest tightened. “Honest? About this? About... me?” 

Yechan’s expression softened. “Yeah, M/n. About you. About what you want. What you feel. About who you are.” He paused, a brief flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, then added, “And maybe... maybe I think you’re cute too.” 

M/n’s breath caught in his throat, his heart skipping. The words hung in the air between them, tentative but real, and for the first time in a long time, M/n felt like he wasn’t alone in his confusion. 

There, in the warmth of the firelight, surrounded by their own struggles and the quiet hum of the night, M/n realized that this moment—this truth they had just shared—might not be the end of something. It might be the beginning of something much, much bigger. And for the first time, he didn’t feel like the world was waiting for him to fail. Maybe, just maybe, he could be himself. 

Yechan’s gaze lingered on M/n, as if trying to make sense of what had just passed between them. The fire crackled softly, its light flickering in Yechan's eyes, and M/n could feel the tension growing, thickening the air between them. There was a weight to the silence, something unspoken that seemed to hang in the space just beyond their words. 

M/n shifted uncomfortably, his heart racing in his chest. “Do you wanna... do you want to talk about this more?” His voice was tentative, unsure of how to navigate the vulnerability now exposed between them. He didn’t want to back away from this, not now. Not after everything they’d shared, everything they’d said. But he wasn’t sure what the right next step was. “Let’s go... somewhere more private.” 

Yechan blinked, his lips parting as if considering the offer. The air felt thick with the weight of their unspoken desires, but there was something in M/n’s voice—something real—that made Yechan’s defenses crumble. This wasn’t just curiosity anymore. This was want. 

“Yeah...” Yechan replied softly, his eyes never leaving M/n's face. He nodded slowly, as if testing the idea, but the uncertainty in his voice was almost immediately replaced by a quiet yearning. “I think... I think we should.” 

The fire continued to crackle behind them, but the world outside of it seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them standing there, suspended in this fragile moment of understanding. With one last glance at the others who still gathered around the campfire, M/n stood, his legs slightly unsteady as he motioned for Yechan to follow. 

They walked in silence, their footsteps crunching on the gravel path leading away from the campfire and deeper into the woods. The night was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant sound of crickets. The cool night air brushed against M/n’s face, but his heart was still racing. He kept his pace slow, letting Yechan catch up. 

When they finally found a secluded spot behind the cabins, hidden from the view of the others, M/n turned to face him. The trees swayed gently overhead, and the air between them felt even more charged now that they were alone. 

M/n’s throat felt dry. “I just... I need to know, Yechan. Is it wrong? Is this... what we’re feeling?” He wanted to reach out, to touch him, to close the distance that still lingered in the air between them, but he didn’t know if it was okay. He didn’t know if he was okay. 

Yechan took a slow breath, his voice low and steady. “I don’t know if it’s wrong. I don’t know what we’re supposed to feel, but...” He paused, his fingers brushing nervously against the edge of his shirt. “But I know I don’t want to feel ashamed of it. Not with you.” 

The admission left M/n speechless, his heart swelling in his chest as the distance between them seemed to vanish. Yechan was standing there, open and raw, offering him something M/n hadn’t expected—acceptance. 

“I just...” M/n took a step closer, his voice trembling as the vulnerability flooded back. “I don’t want to be judged anymore. Not by anyone. Not by you.” 

Yechan stepped forward, closing the gap between them, his eyes soft with understanding. “You won’t be. Not by me.” 

M/n’s breath hitched, and before he could think too much about it, he reached up, his hand trembling as it cupped Yechan’s cheek. Yechan didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. 

“Are you sure?” M/n whispered, the question hanging between them like a fragile promise. 

Yechan’s lips curved slightly, his voice almost a whisper as he answered, “Yeah. I’m sure.” 

And in that quiet, hidden space beneath the trees, with the world outside seeming far away, M/n finally allowed himself to breathe again, letting the weight of his feelings wash over him. 

The air between them crackled with anticipation, the silence heavy with everything they hadn’t yet said. M/n could feel his pulse racing in his throat, his heart thundering in his chest. Yechan was standing so close now, the space between them nearly nonexistent. His breath was warm against M/n’s skin, his presence overwhelming, making it hard to focus on anything but him. 

M/n’s fingers still lingered against Yechan’s cheek, and for a moment, he was caught in the feeling of his soft skin beneath his touch. Yechan’s eyes fluttered open, locking with M/n’s, and in that instant, everything shifted. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the heat of their bodies and the quiet sound of their breathing. 

“I... I don’t want to feel this way alone,” M/n whispered, his voice thick with the weight of his confession. His thumb gently traced the line of Yechan’s jaw, almost as if memorizing the feeling of him. “Not anymore.” 

Yechan’s lips parted, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His eyes softened, a flicker of vulnerability passing through them before he stepped closer, closing the remaining space between them. 

“I don’t want to be alone either,” Yechan murmured, and before M/n could say anything more, he tilted his head slightly and closed his eyes, his lips brushing gently against M/n’s. 

At first, it was soft, a tentative meeting of lips, a question in the way they pressed together. But as M/n’s heart soared, his body instinctively leaning into Yechan’s, the kiss deepened. Yechan’s hands found M/n’s waist, pulling him closer, his fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt as if trying to feel him more. M/n responded without hesitation, his hand sliding into Yechan’s hair, tugging him even closer, the heat between them igniting with a passion neither of them had expected. 

The kiss grew urgent, their mouths moving in sync as though they were both starved for this connection. M/n’s chest ached with a desire he couldn’t quite name, but it felt right—perfect, even—as Yechan’s lips melded with his. The touch was electric, sending jolts of warmth flooding through his veins. His heart beat wildly, and the world around them seemed to vanish completely. 

Yechan’s hands slid up M/n’s back, pulling him tighter against him, his body flush with M/n’s. M/n could feel the steady thrum of Yechan’s heartbeat, matching his own as they lost themselves in the kiss, in each other. The cool night air seemed distant now, their bodies a fire of warmth and longing. 

When they finally pulled away, gasping for breath, their foreheads rested together, both of them fighting to steady their breathing. M/n’s lips tingled, his whole body alight with the intensity of the kiss. Yechan’s eyes were half-lidded, a small, almost vulnerable smile on his face. 

“Are you sure?” M/n whispered, his voice shaky but filled with the same longing he could see reflected in Yechan’s eyes. 

Yechan nodded, his thumb brushing over M/n’s lip gently. “Yeah. I’m sure.” 

And in that moment, they didn’t need to say anything else. The kiss had spoken for them, sealing the unspoken promise between them, a promise of something more, something real. 

[gojo-mochi]

omg softy thank you for always be willing to talk about kishibe, you always answer in the most yummy ways🛐🛐🛐

rn i'm just thinking about pulling him by his belt loops when you feel he's in your way but then becoming a habit and doing it every time you want something from him. a kiss?? pull. you want to leave the place you are at?? pull. you want to whisper something in his ear?? pull. want him closer??? pULL

he would scold you saying it's such a nasty habit and makes you look rude in front other people, he even go as far as pulling you hair sometimes while your fingers are still interlock on the loop "no. fucking. pulling" but deep down he loves it, he loves to have you hands on his pants even if it's such a mundane action, he loves that you always look at him with those big puppy eyes while holding into him, and he loveees the way you move him around to your convenience because he's all yours (also you move him around in public but he moves you around on private)

-kishibe anon🫧

THIS THOUGHT IS SO YUMMMYYYYYY MM IT BEEN IN MY HEAD SINCE I READ IT GODDDDD 〔´∇｀〕KISHIBE ANONNNNN I LOVE YOUUUUUUU!!

Also idk why it went a little ermmm deep in some parts just ignore that i was going thru things

I can def see you doing it first during an argument and Kishibe being Kishibe is just flat out ignoring you, not even turning his back on you. Just looking over your head and puffing out smoke from his cigarette. You’re basically just a squeaky little mouse in his eyes now, or an annoying little yapping dog. 

You stomp your foot at his display. Huffing out your cheeks and squeaking out in anger, trying to get him to stop from eating your leftovers again. Kishibe cleans out his ear with a pinky and taps away at his phone. 

“Damn, old man… I know you don’t text anyone but me and work.” 

Tired of his antics, you stomp right up next to him and grab him by the belt loop, using all your spite and power to pull him forward. Catching him off guard like this, you actually managed to make him stumble a few steps towards you. Dropping his cigarette in shock at your action, mouth agape as you start your rant once more.

Thinking that you fully have his attention now, but his mind was turning gears over what just happened. Your cute little fingers still wrapped around his belt, your angry puffed out cheeks, the fact that you were even able to move him forward. 

“Hey, hey! Are you not listening to me again? Kishibe! I swear to go-AHHH!”

Without a word from him, Kishibe hoists you up over his shoulder and loudly smacks your ass, as he makes his way to your shared bedroom. 

“Wh-what the fuck, Kishibe?!”

You were confused on whether to stay angry or go along with this, as you didn't get the apology you wanted and you didn’t get to finish your rant. But on the other hand, you can’t deny that when Kishibe manhandles you like this, it leaves a little wet spot on your panties. 

Kishibe kicks the bedroom door open and unceremoniously throws you on the bed. You close your eyes and brace for the soft impact, your back bouncing off the bed a little. WIth your eyes still closed, you soon felt the bed dip under the weight of Kishibe following after you. His hands pressing down on either side of your head.

Your eyes waver but you tried to keep the glare on your face, still displaying your anger upfront. Kishibe stares down at you with that same deadpan face he always wears. But you knew him long enough now to notice the little differences and what they mean. Like the way his lips are slightly curled up and his breathing is just a tad heavier than normal.

You could tell how much he’s holding back from immediately tearing your clothes off and claiming what’s rightfully his. But he’s better than that, Kishibe knows he’s not a good person by any means, but he’s trying, trying for you. He’ll never admit it upfront, he’ll hide behind his gruff facade until you finally leave him. A fear that still lingers inside him every morning, that one day your warmth will leave his side and he wouldn’t blame you if you did. 

He stares at you for a tad too long and it makes you worry a little, so you try to snap him out of his stupor by pinching at his cheek. Kishibe blinks twice and meets your gaze once more, you tilt your head to the side to silently question him. All anger and annoyance inside you gone due to the weird silence now, instead confusion lined your expression. 

“Old man?” Your voice calls out to him, pulling him back into reality, the warmth of your hand on his cheek brings back life into his eyes. 

He places his hand on your and brings it up to his lips, closing his eyes as he feels your warmth closer now. Another moment of silence passes between the two of you before Kishibe finally speaks.

“ ‘M Sorry about eating your food, can’t help being hungry all the time, it comes with old age.”

He rolls out that last part sarcastically, slipping your finger in his mouth and gently biting it. Wrapping his tongue around your digit as he keeps a tight grasp on your wrist to stop you from pulling away. 

“I know words don’t mean nothing without any action behind them, so let me show you how sorry I am tonight…”

The next morning when Kishibe leaves early again for work and you shuffle to the kitchen on your shaky legs, holding your sore back, body covered in bite marks. You find take out from your favorite restaurant on top of the kitchen counter. 

You didn’t realize back then how much the belt pulling affected Kishibe that night, and he didn’t bring it back up again. So, it was a while before you did it to him again, this time not out of anger…

Some other moments where you pulled on Kishibe’s Belt~ =＾● ⋏ ●＾=

It was hard to get Kishibe’s attention most times, he was a busy man after all. You took it in stride most times, understanding this was what you were getting into when you both decided to continue this “relationship”. Still, you've been eyeing the ice cream truck for what felt like hours now, even making small hints toward it.

Until you finally got sick of it and said out loud, “Woowwwww, it's so hard today, sure would be nice to have some ice cream right now.” 

He just hummed in response, his gaze more focused on the surrounding area and looking for any possible threat to you. You let out a long sigh and yank him forward by the belt, until he stumbles a bit towards you with a surprised look on his face. 

Before he could get a word out, you hastily point at the ice cream truck with a glare plastered on your face. Kishibe slowly turns his head to the truck and then back to you, focusing his attention to your cute little hands still holding on to his belt.

He chuckles, placing his hands over yours, looking down at you with a hint of a smile on his face. 

“If you wanted something sweet, creamy, and sticky, you know you don’t have to beg like this for it.” 

Your mouth opens to retort back but Kishibe holds a hand over your mouth, effectively shutting you up. He squeezes your cheeks in a little and drags you away from the ice cream truck and into a secluded alley. 

Pushing you against the wall, his hand lowering down to your neck and the other one hooking inside your pants. 

“Now you can see this either as a treat or a punishment, brat.” 

“Punishment?! Punishment for what?” You just wanted to get his attention to buy some ice cream, what was so wrong about that?

Kishibe snorts at your little outburst, and pats your head a bit roughly. Laying his hands on your shoulders and pushing it down, his usual signal for you to go on your knees. You glare at him but soon submit to his silent demand pretty easily. Lowering yourself down to your knees in this dingy alleyway. 

Kishibe looks down at you and slowly undoes his belt, voice low and gravelly as he scolds you. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot what you just did five minutes ago? Grabbin’ my belt and pulling me in public?” He shakes his head with a click of his tongue.

“Naughty brat, since you want my attention that bad, I’ll give it to you..”

[theliterarywolf]

honest question, who is Sean Chiplock and how is he annoying sometimes? your post is the first time i’ve heard of him and i make a conscious effort not to use or interact with twitter at all so i have no idea what’s going on

Voice-Actor. First got into the public consciousness for his work as Revali from Breath of the Wild, but other popular roles he's done include: some random pretty boy from Genshin Impact (I know it's a prominent character, I just don't care enough about Genshin to look it up), Purple Yam Cookie in Cookie Run: Kingdom, and most recently Kinger in The Amazing Digital Circus.

Really, when I say 'he's annoying sometimes' it's that he can sometimes get a tad sanctimonious when he's talking about social issues. But, other than that, he's fine.

The reason people are trying to turn on him now (and by 'people' I mean 'maladjusted children who need their internet-privileges revoked') is because he dared to not agree with kids attacking people over fictional ships.

However, because every fandom puritan knows that, deep down, their accusations don't mean shite to anyone with more than two braincells to rub together, they've started to lump in other heavier accusations to give credence to 'he supports icky ships, so he's a terrible person, weh'.

Such claims include:

'He's racist!!' For making jokes about Chinese knockoff products. Which, you know, people have been making all over (particularly when it comes to the current state of artist alleys/halls at conventions giving tables to people reselling shoddily-made junk from AliExpress/Wish)

Also, in case anyone tries to bring up that tweet where he supposedly said the N-word: how many NewGrounds lurkers pulled that same shit when they were in their late teens-20s? As in, the same age-range he was when that tweet was made?

And 'He defended a groomer!!' When, in reality, when it came out that another Genshin Impact VA was a legitimate predator, Chiplock actual condemned the VA in question while telling fans 'remember, it's perfectly fine to separate a character from the person who voices them in situations like this'.

Meanwhile, a certain someone who voices a certain pastel-unicorn in the cookie game went on a tirade about how the Japanese BL industry and those who support it should be 'burnt to the ground' and, as of today, no action has been taken/no one is calling for their cancellation. So, you know: priorities.

[linka-from-captain-planet]

Rana/Neve ship alphabet to flesh out some dynamic headcanons - SFW version

Most of these are answered in a sort of post-canon together, when they're working in their detective agency. But also I'm inconsistent.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

They're sweeties once their walls come down. Neither is a big feelings-talker if they can avoid it; there are times when only words will do, but thankfully many other times when actions speak louder. What really counts for both of them is effort and time, so that's how they show each other their love day to day.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

We know all about Neve, thee ride or die, through her canon friendships with Rook and Bellara especially. Rana is pretty similar but more upbeat/less cagey - a ride or die (she learned her lesson when she didn't ride for Neve against Aelia in Tevinter Nights - and Neve almost died), a bit of an earnest dork, generally friendly and helpful.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddling comes to both of them slowly like awkward shelter cats. They have sex, then what? Is it okay to want to touch each other still, once they're "done"? It takes some time before they're comfortable touching each other outside of that context. Neve used to feel smothered being on the bottom at all, but she comes to love the feeling of Rana (taller, heavier) laying on top of her, head on her chest. She likes to scratch Rana's scalp or rub her shoulders. Rana likes it too; she feels reassured that Neve is safe, warm, and happy and there's no better way to be sure than listen to her heart and feel her full-body warmth. When they sleep, either Rana is usually the big spoon or she lies on her back with Neve cradled against her side. They each need their space sometimes, even in bed, so they don't sleep all tangled up every night.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

"Settling down" is a little off-base for Rana and Neve - neither desires a "traditional" life and neither is likely to want to slow down on work any time soon. But in the way "settling down" means "maturing in a relationship, choosing it, and prioritizing it in one's life", then yes, they want that. Neve is certified disaster woman and has limited domestic skills, as Rana and others tease her about. Her apartment is "clean" in the sense that she doesn't have anything in it and is never there to make it dirty. She has a hotplate and can Prepare Food but cannot Cook, but can wash a mean dish and pick a great wine. Rana was both raised to be a homemaker and is a generally fastidious person, so her domestic skills are great. Her room is always in perfect condition, her laundry is all ironed, she washes dishes as she uses them. She hasn't had much opportunity to cook, having spent her adult life living in the Templar quarters, but still knows all her family recipes and can make solid nutritious meals

E = Ending (If they had to break up, how would they do it?)

If they broke up, they would have half a conversation about it before feeling too vulnerable and cutting each other off and agonizing over the things left unsaid forever :c

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

The "commitment" part is probably the least of their apprehensions in being together. They ARE commitment to everything they care about, so once they get over themselves and commit to each other, it's a pretty natural progression. Do they care about being "married"? Probably not. Same-sex marriage is definitely not legal in Tevinter until Archon Pavus/Tilani gets their hands on the place, so it may not quite even register as a possibility let alone a priority. I could see them eventually marrying in a hush-hush, intimate ceremony with like 10 friends, but there's no rush and neither would be particularly bothered if they never got around to it

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Neve is far gentler than she'd like to admit. Rana can be a bit clumsy and single-minded, making her sometimes come off gruff/cold, but her heart's in the right place. Their relationship built off tentative contact, both physical and emotional. But they don't mince words - they'll argue, they'll call each other out, they'll push each other around, they'll grab the other to keep her from storming away. Rana is a little more hesitant, but not because she's gentler - she's worried about Neve icing her out if she pushes too hard. So they're a mixed bag. They're gentle, but they don't hold back when the situation calls for a firmer hand (for Neve especially, this would be a colossal turnoff).

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Sure, of course. They're tactile (and not usually chatterboxes), so they touch each other a lot in general as a means of communicating. sorry idk what else to say, describing hugs is boring

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

As much as I want it to be a very long time, it doesn't work with my headcanon timeline. I think it could go two ways - either they get the tortured "If I don't say it now..." moment that Rook/Neve shares before departing for the final battle, or they get basically the blightmance post-credits scene. So by my timeline, there's like max a month between quasi-getting together post-Aelia/forming their gay detective agency and vomiting out their feelings under duress.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Neither of them is really the jealous type - they don't feel possessive of each other, they trust each other, they're too old for any immature "that saleswoman flirted with you why didn't you tell her you have a girlfriend??" crap. Sure a bit of jealousy crops up sometimes - they're passionate women, hearts on their sleeves, oftentimes emotionally stressed by work - , but they take it as a 'me' problem. When Neve feels jealous, it's usually rooted in a self-defeating "well, she'd be better off without me anyway" fallacy which she increasingly knows is bullshit. Rana's more run of the mill jealousy from time to time - Neve's a popular girl, especially post-canon, so it grates on her sometimes to see people fawn over her girl. But she's too pragmatic to date the hottest shit in the world and get mad because other people have eyes, too.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Neve likes a slow, sensual kiss, even if she's not trying to warm up for sex. She allows herself so few indulgences, and that's one. She balances herself out with more chaste kisses on Rana's cheek, forehead, shoulders, knuckles - little affectionate things she'd have felt too skittish to do before. Making out has always been pretty easy because it leads to sex which is also easy; laying a tender butterfly kiss on the bridge of her sweetheart's nose as she falls alseep in her arms is intimate and thus vulnerable which is icky but she's getting better every day! Rana has a bit of the same hesitance, but it's more about her-and-Neve after years of keeping each other at arms' length than it is about intimacy in general. Rana's kisses are very physical, not just regarding her lips but how she holds Neve and touches her while they're kissing: cradling Neve's face in her hands, rubbing her back, squeezing her hands and also her ass. Rana likes to kiss Neve's new scars, her nose and boob freckle, the back of her neck every morning.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Neve's got a soft spot the size of Thedas when it comes to the little ones of Docktown. Of course she'll help find a puppy, of course she'll do whatever she can to make sure an orphan is looked after, of course she keeps little drawings and trinkets that the kids who look up to her give her. Rana is about as good as any adult who doesn't interact with kids much; she's a little awkward and doesn't quite know what they expect from her, but she's kind and tries to make them feel comfortable.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

They often work nights and sleep during the day, so instead of "morning" I mean "the time period after they awaken." They're both get-up-and-go people. They make their own schedule, so there's usually nothing super pressing first thing in their day, but they don't like to linger for too long. They'll have a quick snuggle or maybe a quickie if they're feeling saucy, make breakfast, wash up, and they're out the door if only to take a walk before the craziness sets in.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

They're often working nights so as above, this is more "the time period when they're both home before they go to sleep." After a day of working together, they both like to decompress and spend a little time alone. Neve likes to read or play with the not-theirs cats, or writes to friends. Rana also reads - she picked up Brom's romance serials after they put Aelia away, to her slight embarrassment - and exercise. Sometimes Neve pretends to join her, but she mostly just watches. They try to go to bed together, mostly because their apartment/bed is small and they'd hate to wake the other up, but also to reconnect a little (or a lot).

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

*extremely loud incorrect buzzer* If it weren't for a crisis like the one that unfolds in-game, Neve and Rana would probably never get over themselves and express their feelings. Hell literally froze over before they mustered a "so, what are we" conversation. They've lowkey been each other's 'person' for years; they seek each other out when they need help'; they trust each other more than anyone else. They're a classic slow burn, but shit ramps up so fast and they're both so emotionally constipated that it feels like going from 0-100 to hold hands the first time.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Both pretty patient and thick-skinned. Righteous fury, indignation, feeling insulted, etc - those come much much faster than "anger". They both will get heated on behalf of others long before they get heated on their own egos.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

They're detectives - goes without saying they're locked in on every detail forever. They both also hold grudges. Not against each other (mostly), but they'll beef with other people for eternity.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Neve will never forget when she warned Rana that she'll lose her job for going after Aelia, and Rana not even hesitating to stick by her because it was the right thing to do. Rana failed to show up for her when it counted once before - so the proof that Rana's both grown as a person since (developing her own morals and caring for more than just following the rules) and will stand by her through and through this time means a lot. Even though it opened up a can of worms and became awkward pretty much immediately, Rana's favorite is the memory of waking up together after the first time they slept together. She always knew Neve's coldness was a front, and she had empiric evidence to prove her hypothesis then. It's hard to express herself through words, but she could feel how much Neve needed the touch and it was a bit of a revelation to realize how badly she (Rana) wanted to be that for her.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Both of them are very independent, so they'd bristle and feel smothered by the other being overly "protective", nor would they expect the other to appreciate the same. This goes double for Neve, who profusely rejects anything she perceives as coddling due to her disability (definitely something Rana fucked up early on - she thought she was being courteous, but she was wrong). They'll each throw themselves in front of the other to take a nasty blow, but they're not going crazy over every lump the other takes. It's just the way the cookie crumbles when you do what they do, and they're both pragmatic on top of having faith in the other's capabilities. They'll go to bat for each other any time, for any reason, against any challenge. That's what counts for them both - it's not about feeling "protected", but about feeling safe. And knowing they can rely on each other, seek each other out for help, and share triumphs and failures is what makes them feel safe together.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

It's definitely more about everyday sustained effort for them VS any sort of big gesture. They're both sentimental, so they *like* going on dates and celebrating their anniversaries, but it's not what really makes them both feel loved so they don't put a lot of effort (or money - which is always pretty tight) into them. Everyday tasks like Rana making breakfast and Neve doing the dishes, Neve making the bed even though she doesn't gaf about that because she knows Rana does, Rana grabbing a new bottle when she notices Neve's favorite conditioner is running low, etc - that's their bread and butter. They don't always know what to say to show each other how much they care, but they can always figure out what to do.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Neve can really be her own worst enemy. She's prone to agonizing and suffering in silence, no matter how much she knows she doesn't have to. Eating primarily fried fish is also a bad habit, as is over-working herself, skipping sleep, and not resting enough. Rana can be judgmental and rigid, so she might put her foot in her mouth even when she means well or die on a hill she doesn't need to die on. Like Neve, she'll burn the candle from both ends to get the job done, and let her sense of righteousness lead her unprepared to places she probably should have gone with a gun.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

This is a certified Vain4Vain relationship despite both of them otherwise being pretty down to earth. It's not about Being Beautiful; it's about being highly concerned with the way they're perceived by others. Plus they're Tevene, and public presentation is part of their culture. Neve's appearance is wholly part of her costume and she's very deliberate about maintaining it: her ceaseless tidiness (despite being a disaster woman), her uptown vibe (despite being broke), her intimidating imagery (despite having the softest wettest heart in the world), her disarming beauty (but don't look farther than skin-deep!!). In many ways, Neve's beauty is a means for her to push people away, not to attract them. Rana is all about portraying an image of order and effort; her reputation as a 'clean' Templar is something she's proud of, and so she demonstrates it in her appearance. Her armor is shined, her boots are polished, her braid is perfect with every single hair in place, her spine is straight. That said, they know they're both hot and they don't *hate* it.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you each other?)

Absolutely yes, they're pathetic in many ways but not this one.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Misc headcanons include:

Rana was among the small group of Templars who were on the job with Neve when she lost her lower leg, and helped carry her to a healer. Part of why they're awkward about each other as of Tevinter Nights is that they shared this highly sensitive and delicate experience as virtual strangers, probably about 45 minutes after making eye contact for the first time and mutually thinking "she sucks... smash"

They had sex exactly once pre-DAV: after Brom's funeral (grief, not wanting to be alone, also drunk) and never talked about it, so they still feel Conflicted about it months later. This is why they're even weirder about each other in the game than they were in Tevinter Nights.

They don't 'adopt' cats together per se, but they don't stop cats from coming into their apartment and they feed the strays in their alley. They're all named "Wisp"

Rana comes from the type of middling Soporati family that sees themselves as temporarily-embarrassed Altus mages, so they had high hopes of pushing her into an illustrious marriage in hopes of starting the Savas mage line. She ran away and joined the Templars as soon as she came of age. Although the attention embarrasses her, she does lowkey love the possibility that her parents are out there fuming reading the shitty rags and hearing alll about their daughter being the main squeeze of Thee Neve Gallus, notorious shit-strirrer, extremely powerful mage, and Hero of the Veilguard

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Any sort of spinelessness or posturing is a huge turnoff for them both - stand for what you stand for, and mean it, or sit down. Despite recognizing its major issues, they're both proud to be Tevene and Mintrathous natives, so outsiders shit-talking their homeland pisses them both off. In a partner, Neve can't stand someone who's too clingy - she'll feel smothered. She's starved for affection and touch, but there's definitely a too-much that would make her skin crawl, just as there's a too-little that would make her feel vulnerable and rejected. Shelter cat style. Rana also doesn't want to feel tied down, but she's not as sensitive about it. Her biggest turnoff is crassness - excessive swearing, rude language, crass jokes. She's also sensitive to feeling disrespected (she got enough of that every day as a Templar in mage-supremacy Tevinter)- she likes Neve's gentle ribbing, but her boundaries aren't far past that.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Neve routinely passes out in her dirty street clothes and makeup on the top of her covers out of sheer exhaustion. Rana does NOT allow this whenever they crash at her place/when they move in together, partly because she also doesn't let Neve run herself that ragged anymore; sure, they'll both go-go-go until an important case is done, but Rana ensures they rest between cases so they don't get totally rundown. (Rana once had a job and is familiar with the concept of "clocking out" unlike Neve). Rana can't go to sleep unless she puts her clothes away and at least washes her face/brushes her teeth, so she introduces Neve to the concept of a "nighttime routine".

[arenabreadandbiscuits]

Belphegor x AMAB Reader || What A Good Boy~

-

Another commission finished ÙwÚ

Word Count: 4, 130 words

Rating: Rated R, 18+

Includes: AMAB Reader, he/him pronouns, Poc Reader, Brown skinned Reader, Praise Kink, A bit of breeding, Biting, marking, claiming, fingering, tickling, anal play, fingering, etc

A/N: Thank you SO much for commissioning me Anon! Your love and care means so much. I hope you enjoy your story and if you have any reviews please leave them in my ask box!

-A

~

He's at it again.

Belphie had developed this thing where he'd go out of his way and find you even when he would get grumpy in those moments when you were actually really busy and couldn't always be able to be stuck to his side.

You always came without struggle or argument when you could and it was actually so nice being in the seventh brother's room, in his bed, surrounded by Belphegor’s presence and most prized things.

This time was no different from many others before.

You huffed softly when you felt the feeling of him scooting closer, the space between the two of your bodies practically non-existent now, just the way he always seemed to like it. You stay still as he leers even closer and this time he seems to be the one to lightly huff before slowly moving forward and slipping his head in the spot that occupies the space between your jawline and shoulder.

He takes a moment to take in your scent before he breathes out your name, his breath running over your throat while his hand crawls over the curve of your hip.

You hadn't even been sleeping fully, just almost there when he had started this and now you couldn't help but bite the inside of your cheek, gently nibbling. Belphie just couldn't seem to help himself, sure he wants you to rest but oh you're scent is good enough to actually eat. Ever since you first arrived in Devildom he found himself attracted and attached to your natural smell which always seemed to send the most filthy of thoughts through his mind whenever he picked up on it. You keep quiet, playing coy and seeing just what exactly would come from such a reaction and for a moment Belphegor seems to pause.

His hands continue to touch you with ghost like caresses though after a brief moment of thought, gentle brushes of his fingers slowly turn heavier, and hotter especially as Belphie seems to move one arm to wrap around your stomach before pulling the two of you flush together. He's already managed to be excited himself, the chub in his pants throbbing as thoughts of just what the demon of sloth planned on doing.

“Y/n?~” Belphegor lightly hums, his warm breath puffing against soft and beautifully melanated skin.

“I know you're awake~ There's no need to hide it from me..” he says in that low tone of his, the tone that he always seemed to have and you is was sure of his title but it makes you shiver nonetheless, you had learned by now that these actions of his definitely meant he was up to no good. As lazy as he may seem to do many things… with you in his bed it's like you've awakened the real beast in him. One that just wants to tear into you in all the best ways, one full with passionate energy even though he's still taking his time.

You couldn't fool him, no one was better at sleeping and resting and pretending to sleep, than he himself.

“What do you want?...” You softly say in response, feigning annoyance, your eyes opening slowly only to soon flutter back shut as Belphegor places a kiss on that precious tanned skin. It sent a shot of heat down to your gut almost immediately. He takes his time; smooching your smooth throat one, twice, three times until you can't help but squirm.

Quickly you find yourself growing excited, just as hot as he most likely is right now and the way that Belphie runs his lips over your neck and his hand down your stomach to grip your shirt and lift it just so he can trace your beautiful brown sends sparks shooting through you and up your spine.

Sometimes you almost seemed to doubt him and his nature as a demon. Belphegor was so sleepy usually and you had to admit it was definitely a good cover for his devious acts. He always seemed so lively in these moments, in these times where he could touch and grope at you and you always found your heart racing in your chest.

“Can't I just want to hold you?” The demon brother hums softly, his eyes lidded and glowing in the dark while his lips form a smirk against your skin. His nails seem to graze your skin before moving even lower until he pushes you night pants down a bit just to slowly slip his hand past the hem. You make a soft noise under the action.

The action makes you look down at your own body, blushing more and more as you watched what he did to your body, watched as he easily pulls the excitement forth in you like he always did.

“You..you know what you're doing. I know you're up to no good Mister..” You breath, mouth falling open now as pants leave your lips thanks to Belphie opening his mouth in order to start nibbling on your skin.

He doesn't respond, at least not right now, letting you savour him and his touches while you watched with those eyes that began to fill with heavy lust and love. The difference of skin pigment managed to add to your experience, watching as those light hands traced and teased your brown skin. He and his touches stand out, easily making your mind drift and fog up as he continues the affection. He's so warm, so attentive and when his hand trails even lower to push past your boxers and takes hold of your semi hard cock your voice seems to catch in your throat.

His hold isn't extremely tight but it is snug. It wasn't exactly until that moment that you realized just how excited simply receiving his attention has managed to rile you up.

“B-Bel..” you say now, voice shaking a bit until you bite your bottom lip and lower your head considering Belphie seems to find humor in the way you react, in the way you shake and tremble, the way you call out his name with the night air hovered around the two of you. He rolls his wrist and your hips jerk with the rush of heat that shoots right to your gut.

“Oh look, you're already so excited to have me touch you. What a good boy~” He says in a sickeningly sweet tone, one that makes you feel like you've been hit by a bus thanks to just how your breath seems to catch.

You find yourself submitting, the blush on your cheeks grow darker and warmer while you seem to pant and just as you move to rut your hips with his jerking he frees your cock, cupping your crotch and giving the whole length a rub before he finds himself poking your testicles. They were already heavy against him, hot and warm thanks to the way your cock twitches with attention.

You moan this time, a low and heated sound that seems to excite the both of you this time because you definitely managed to feel Belphegor’s clothed, hard cock pressed up against your back.

His hand moves lower and you open your legs more, your pants know falling past your knees, his hand between your thighs and you mewl when his fingers seem to swipe over your sensitive asshole.

The puckered entrance twitches lewdly on its own and you toss your head back a little exposing it more to Belphigor's hungry lips and mouth and he doesn't hesitate to take advantage, his nibbles turning into bites as he groans a little against you. He moved his other hand to hook under your raised leg and he hitches it up higher, slipping those silly pants off of you with his tail.

He holds you open. Your shirt is lifted showing those perky and sensitive dark nipples and your head really is spinning.

How exactly did he always manage to get you like this so easily?

You still wondered the answer from time to time.

It feels so fucking good; the way his fingers seem to tease your hole, pressing against the rim and rubbing. You arch, moaning out, your mouth falling open and tongue slipping out and just then Belphie pulls his hand from your anus back to your lips.

He slips his fingers into your mouth, down your throat and you gag a little in surprise before blushing all over again.

“You might what to be more quiet right? Didn't you say something like that last time?” He hums, his tone playful and his eyes looks at you from your shoulder, saliva being the only thing connecting him to your sun kissed skin for that splint moment before he chuckles.

“Something about how someone might hear us?~” Belphie says with a low purr as his lips continue to move over that skin of yours, that skin that distracted him whenever he saw it whether it be glistening with water or under the bright sun. You were just so distracting, in every way to him and Belphigor never seemed to be able to actually get enough of you, to get enough of just how beautiful you were both in your own right and while you were against him, under him…

You open your mouth just then, attempting to respond only to jolt when his other hand moves and his nails runs down sensitive, ticklish, flesh.

The sound you let out as you squirm seems to be both a laugh and a whine, pleasure and the imposing feel of pain sent a surge of euphoria rushing throughout your body. He chuckles again, holding you tight, just the way he wanted you, especially as his tail wraps around your lifted thigh just to make sure you didn't run from him.

He chuckles again. The way you're already quivering against him has his cock rock hard in his own slacks. You were simply far too cute.

It isn't that you were actually hurt but how dare he tickle you right now? At a time like this?

“B-Belphie-” you speak, crying out a bit as he moves swiftly. Getting up and flipping you, his hand moving up to lace in those curls of yours while pinning you down with ease.

His breath is ragged now as he leans over you, his hand in your hair while his other grips your shoulder. If you could see the face he was making now you'd lose your mind, even so, you can still feel it… feel his gaze trailing over your human form as he presses against your back. He does what to hear you say his name, he really does.

“Aw, look how cute you are.” He hums as he towers over you, looking at your ass as it shakes in excitement and he takes notice of the way your anus trembles and twitches and he can't help but curse under his breath while biting on his bottom lip.

“I love looking at you…” Belphegor coos, his tone like a loving lullaby while also hiding something much more devious. “I love watching the way you shiver under my touches, listening to the way you cry out my name..” he hums before pulling on of his hands back for a moment, taking the time to tug down his own pants roughly as if having them on right now was a nuisance. He groans softly when his cock jumps out; it's hard, standing proudly and it's a good size, meaty and laced with veins. There's also the bit of fuzz he seems to have on him. “I love touching you…” Belphegor breathes, looking down at the scene. Looking at that round and jiggly ass of yours, at that cute puckered hole and the heavy testicles…

He's losing his mind. Usually Belphie was all about taking his time but there was nothing more that he wanted to do other than sink his cock into that cute hole which practically seemed to be calling him.

The demon can't help but take a moment to lean down, one hand wrapping around his own cock while he takes a moment to spread your cheeks with the other, slowly rubbing himself as he looks at that tight rim. He leans in and without thought he sticks out his tongue and slowly trails it out your hole.

You mewl loudly, your own cock jumping at the wet, warm feeling over such a sensitive space. Heat bursts in your gut and you grip the pillows with one hand while trying to resist fondling yourself with the other.

He's just as hard as you are now, maybe just a bit harder and he groans, pulling away from your cute hole, leaving a strand of spit.

“I love tasting you~...” He says and his voice is rougher now from licking your asshole or simply being driven to lust? You weren't too sure, but what you were sure of was that you were more than willing to do anything he said. Happy to get groped, touched, licked… by him.

Your entrance is glistening now with his spit and Belphigor growls this time when he watches it twitch.

“You're so handsome, so tasty, so ripe for the picking..” he says and leans back up a little, taking his cock now and sliding it over the wet hole. It's such a feeling, one that makes you arch prettily before giving that beautiful ass a shake. Then you reached back with both hands so you could take hold of each cheek and hold yourself nice and open for him, giving him another lovely view of that hole and when your anus twitches against him and his cock, his length seems to twitch with you.

It's like it was tempting him, daring him to jump in and dive deep and Belphegor folds under the pressure.

It feels so good, your eyes lightly roll in bliss and then you feel something pushing in. The head of his cock nudges deliciously against your anus and as Belphegor scoots in closer he sinks in even more. It really is a tight fit, his head slips past that ring and Belphegor has to remind himself to be careful, to be patient, to not just grab hold of you and fuck you like you deserve even though it was so, so tempting. Not yet even though you're so warm, so wet.

After the tip slips in Belphegor can't stop himself from groaning, his eyes lidded and hungry as he watches the scene, watches as your hungry ass seems to take him, sinking down on his length until his cock is fully submerged in your hot, throbbing tunnel, balls deep.

You moan heatedly with each inch that slides into you, a heavy blush coloring your cheeks when a lewd sound of him settling into fills the air.

It's so good, especially as he lets go of your hair just to run his hands slowly over your sun kissed skin, drumming his fingers along your ribs which makes you jolt and shake. With his cock stuffing you you can't help but be distracted by that and the way he's tickling you right now and you feel overstimulation, the tip of your cock red and leaking with precum onto the bed below you. You're pretty sure that you might've actually lost your mind this time, that he's finally driven you so far past any form of redemption and you were fine with that.

More than fine to be his.

To belong to him.

Just like he always said that you would. Those moments where you found yourself pinned under him and wonder just how it even occurred… you could see it now. You understood better.

So much better.

Your eyes roll back while your toes curl, fluttering shut when he moves to carefully grip your hips. He rubs your smooth, nut brown skin with his palms a few times, humming as he lets you get it together, watching as that cute hole of yours seemed to squeeze, clench, and flutter around him as you took his cock like many, many times before. His petting turns to lightly running his nails over those inches of sweet skin and your stomach clenches as a strangled laugh tumbles from your lush lips. Shivers harshly run up and down your spine thanks to the action and he explores more of you as the second passes, his nails running over those fat cheeks before running over your hips, then your ribs, and back down again. Your noises only continued, growing louder and more desperate as you trembled under him before shaking your hips; hoping, begging, praying that he'll have mercy because your mind was literal goop right now.

“B-Bel.. Belphie please!” You croak and your tears prickle at your eyes. You are literally a mess, that skin glistening with a light sheen of wet that he just wanted to slurp up but Belphegor was so excited that he worried he might just actually eat you this time.

Well no, realistically, no he wouldn't at least not after all this time and everything the two of you had been through together.

A world without your presence was one he didn't want to exist on and though it's taking quite some time and reflection to come to such a conclusion it was true. He wanted you, always wanted you and sometimes the intensity of his own emotions could make him completely insane over you. Just thinking about it makes him pull his hips slowly back before he even thinks about it and the slide of his cock rubbing your sensitive insides as he reels back makes you moan again. The feeling of him surging forward a moment later sends so much pleasure rushing through you that you gasp and stuff your face into the pillows quickly as you moan loudly.

You're cock twitches more now, the feeling of distant but upcoming release is something akin to scratching a cat behind its ears.

You're arched so deeply against the bed that the sheets rub against the sensitive head of your length and your hardened nipples.

If only you could see yourself. If only you could see just how cute you were.

Belphegor breathes raggedly, his eyes looking down at you, watching the scene as his cock rubs and twitches between your soft, warm cheeks. It's so fucking hot that he bites his bottom lip while a blush colors his own cheeks now. He can't help but grip your hip with one hand, watching as the puckered ring of yours begged to be plowed while his other hand moves up to rub over his own nipple and then giving it a pinch and you roll your hips against him as you feel his cock twitching inside of you. It's only for a moment, the way he touches his own chest, playing with the sensitive flesh, but it's enough. The feelings of pleasure and hunger he was having right now as he watches you roll your hips, building a naughty pattern as you pull forward until his tip seems just ready to slip out before sinking back down, taking all of him.

Your ass seems to squelch every so often and he bites his lip as if he might moan as well. You can hear his heavy breathing, can feel the animalistic energy building in the air and when Belphie grabs your hips and gives a sudden rough thrust. You toss your head back, moaning loudly out as the mushroom tip of his cock seems to smash directly into the sweet bundle of nerves located deep inside of you. It's so fucking good, the way he doesn't seem to care how loud your getting as he groans, growling lowly while he follows that pattern you had previously until you could hear the harsh, wet plap, plap, plaping sound that followed your breathless and desperate cries.

“W..What a good boy, you always take my dick so fucking well.” He snarls, chuckling as he pounds you, fucking your ass open until you were pretty sure it was loud enough to hear if someone walked passed the bedroom door and such a thought only manages to excite you more. Your anus hugging him some more while you fisted the pillows under you as if your life depended on it, the sound of the bed creaking and shaking under the power of his affection and love for you and your body that he just adored so much.

“Look at you, you should see the way your cute slutty ass is swallowing my dick right now… I might just take a picture next time~” Belphie hums, teasing and yet while the idea was tempting you whine, begging him to just be quiet and make a mess out of you. Well, at least you would have said so if your voice wasn't helplessly filling the room like a corner street whore but Belphegor got the message nonetheless it seemed as he digs his nails into your hips and roughly grinds into you, holding you down and making you take it as his cock teased that sensitive spot in the most delicious and mind numbing way.

You couldn't bother to understand anything you were saying now.

Not while you could feel it, not while that orgasm was running up on you with each pull of your hips he made, not while your cock was leaking like it was and your eyes were watering.

“B-BELPHIE- Bel.. Belphegor I'm.. fuck I'm…” you try to tell him, practically sobbing into the pillows before you while you do so and he grins wickedly behind you.

“That's right, say my name just like that~ Let me know how much you love it.” He coos as he continues pounding you, his hands holding you tight just so you wouldn't dare try and run away from such sensations. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, like an affirmation and with each cry he feels it while he absorbs the power that comes from such actions. And just like the good boy you are you do just as you're told,eeling and whimpering out his name and you're so loud that you're sure than even he has forgotten about keeping you quiet as he groans out, rolling his head back and exposing his throat as he rammed you over and over again. 

When you cum Belphegor has to hold you down roughly and he can't stop himself from giving a few more harsh thrusts before fucking deeply and then moaning, quickly leaning down and biting down harshly on your throat while you managed to squeeze the cum out of his own cock and the spike of pain that comes from it mixed with the pleasure of your orgasm leading you off the edge finally managed to break you and you jerk and jolt, trembling and shaking harshly under him as your orgasm comes crashing down of you in waves. Your voice stands out in the lust, choking out his name as you finally burst, heavy ropes of cum shooting out of your prick and ruining the sheets below and the way his hips grind against yours while making your cock rub against the satin sheets draws out every last fucking drop in a way that leaves your mouth wide open and eyes lidded heavily while you pant, mind completely fried. 

Your body is soaked with sweat by now, your thighs trembling, cock twitching, and anus quivering and you couldn't bother to imagine the look you had on your face right now. All you could focus on other than the aftershocks that rushed through you was Belphie's kisses which he lays over the back of your shoulders before he leans in to lick your neck free of any blood that he may or may not have caused in his heat of moment while he blew his nut in you. You purr under the attention, under the warm and sweet kisses up until he reaches to cup your chin, leading you to lift your head back until you look him in his eye and he grins at that blissed out look written all over that cute face of yours that he loves. 

“Did you like it?~” He says a bit playfully and you wanted to be mad at that stupid handsome grin on his face but yet you pant until you manage to catch some of your breath. You can feel his cum sloshing around in you. 

“Y-Yes, you know I loved it..” you mewled and he huffs out a little laugh before closing the distance between your lips, kissing you until you squirmed a bit for breath before he pulled slowly away. 

“Good. Very good.” 

~

-A

[raytorosaurus]

i think where people get confused is that mcr did try very hard and very overtly to make their shows a safe space for queer people and women which is not a political act it just feels political because being queer and/or a woman means you exist in a space where your being is politicised by those around you whether you want to actively be involved in those politics or not. but, as you said, the art itself is personal and the message at shows is generally also about personal expression and learning to be yourself and take care of yourself. there's an element of respect each other/respect each others' differences but that's not political there's no call to action there's no fight for structural change and that's totally fine they don't have to be that

yeah no you said it, i totally agree. like i said, they're only political as far as all art is political - maybe slightly more because they made an active effort to engage with a socially outcast audience, tho in their minds that wasn't about specific marginalised groups like queer people, neurodivergent ppl etc - beyond their vocal support of women at shows/in the scene, they were directing their art just at people who didn't quite fit in in general. there's a big venn diagram there (and obviously some contextual cause-and-effect in terms of what kind of people tended to be unwelcome in hardcore scenes lol - even then, mcr never made any statements about race or whiteness) but it's not like gerard started a band to empower or liberate specific identities in a political sense - it was very consciously an effort to sing more about general unifying human experiences - i.e. ones lots of people can relate to. one of mcr's (especially gerard as lyricist) greatest strengths is being able to tap into those "universal" emotions like grief, loneliness, self-hatred etc. and make them a little easier to confront head-on or feel a little less isolating. that's literally why they're popular - if they had been overtly political they simply never would have made it that big! wait i'll let hanif abdurraqib say it because he said it best (brief snippet from his wonderful essay on the black parade in his collection they can't kill us until they kill us - 100% worth the cost of the ebook alone, and all of his essays are brilliant).

that idea is kind of at the heart of mcr and something i really appreciate about it. there's actually very little specificity in mcr's lyrics by design - it's meant to be projected onto and interpreted. that makes it inherently difficult to politicise bc good politics requires clarity of message and intention. that in turn makes mcr pretty apolitical by nature - which isn't a bad thing! different bands (like all types of art) exist for different reasons, and mcr's reason is catharsis and connection far more than it is any kind of activism. we can be pretty assured based on the lyrics and what we know of the guys that their politics aren't terrible and that's enough for me.

the real issue comes in when people act like mcr are political and give them credit for something they're not (and something they've never really claimed to be!). i get that mcr is a gateway band for a lot of people into harder/heavier music - it was for me too! - but even bands one step removed from mcr in the same scene (e.g. thursday) are leagues more political than these guys are.

this goes beyond mcr/bandom now but....tbh i think a lot of it comes from that relatively recent attitude that's common in online circles that activism is heavily rooted in personal identity (which ties in with the harmful pattern of, for example, white queer people acting like they're somehow above other white people in terms of racism) and comes more from individual thought, words, and discussion (in which using the correct language sometimes has more weight than what you're trying to say) than it does from actual community action. this isn't an attack at anyone btw - a lot of the statements about mcr's politics around here are pretty flippant and light-hearted anyway, i doubt too many people are taking them super seriously, but it's probably worth considering. overall, i'm not listening to mcr for politics and i'm certainly not looking to any of them for political guidance, but it's nice to feel connected to them and to all of you guys and to know that they support my identity, but that’s kind of as far as it goes for me.

[drowninginblox]

Torched

Part 2

Part of him hoped that the last few days were a dream, that at any moment he'll wake up in that damn chair or even from his corner in the basement of the shit shack. But the bread in his pocket served as a guarantee that's not gonna happen anytime soon. Combined with the lakes of sweat keeping him awake in this living nightmare, Fit can only pace in frustration. “If you want, I can give you some time to ponder this. Although I am an immortal being, the concept of thinking on such large decisions is one I'm not lost on.” Fit sighed. Will you be gone? He didn’t mean to sound as harsh or vulnerable as he did, but it felt wrong for him to be guarded in his own mind. It was probably the emotional exhaustion getting to him. “I won’t be far warrior. Just call for me and I will come.” A moment passes before a shiver runs up Fit’s spine. A body-wide shake follows. And then silence.

So soft. The infamous FitMC has gone so, so soft. A lump in his throat closes his throat. He takes a breath and lets his shoulders roll. The muted pop and click of bones act as a good grounder in this otherwise devastating scene. Remember yourself. What did you do back then? His eyes close. For a moment, the humidity mutes. The cold air subsides. And rather than the stale air he’s been breathing in for a year, the smell of gunpowder and the taste of flesh linger on his tongue while a younger, lost soul, takes a daring step into the unknown.

Explosions, first vibrant in sound as they were in action, slowly mute as the souls of Fit's feet felt the ware of running for hours on end. From what, he didn't know. Anything though. There was always a reason to keep moving in the wastes, whether it be from the monsters that came out in the night or the people that just so happened to spot you out of your periphery. It's always something. Rest was a pipe dream. Always brief when there was some time for it, but it was always greeted with another reason to get off your ass. The howls in the night, the crunch of the ground sounding too close for comfort, the sizzle of TNT, or an offshoot explosion on the horizon. Sometimes you wouldn't know what's outside the cave until the preditor makes itself known. If you're lucky, you could see the obsidian being placed before the end crystal. You barely have enough time to block yourself up or dig away, but a chance is always worth fighting for. That's something he can't live without; chances.

Fit' likes to think he's grown since his time away but there's only so much calculation you can do before something makes itself known. It's ugly. Messy too if shit really hits the fan. Maybe that's why Fit was a janitor. When shit gets messy, someone has to note and take care of the problem. Speaking of- Maybe it was a few minutes? Could’ve been a few hours. Either way, his arm weighed heavier on his shoulder. A scowl was the only thing to meet him as he blinked away the aches. "What would Pac do?"

The words tumbled onto the cavern, making Fit's stomach twist at the cruel reminder. He could've sworn the weight in his chest didn't weigh this heavy. Last time it felt like a baseball. Now it's gotta be a bomb. I never asked for this, He screws his eyes shut. I know I agreed to this. I know I can't back out even if I wanted to, but- He couldn't help but choke out a chuckle. "Am I selfish by patching myself up with the people I care about?" He blinks a few times at the haziness only to feel the wetness of tears. "Fuck, really?" A groan rises from his stomach, intermixed with venom and the heat of untapped rage. An animal clawing at its cage to be released, the keeper, tired of the constant severance relinquished the beast of its cage, gilded with the pretenses of civility for station's sake. For everyone's sake. The noise progresses into a scream. One that even Fit could hear. Guttural and raw and for every sake of the word, it wasn't just the beast that was freed from captivity, it was the whole goddamn zoo.

The emotions can't take him away again. Not further than this. The stampede can kick his damn ass he will remain. Securing himself in a ball, that was all he can do against the impending release. Months of not knowing whether or not his friends and family were truly safe, years of stress built up and hardened only to be broken by people who thought they knew better than him how to live his life, days where the terrors crawled up his back to the point of mind-numbing exhaustion. All that was left of him ran away or dried up after the flood.

This was a long time coming. "For such a prolific warrior amongst your kind, you are very weak." A scratch of a cough was all Fit could do as a rebuttal. Does it look like I give a fuck right now? A warm laugh resembling the cackle of a campfire. For some reason, fit could feel the warmth of it. If the damp and cold of this cave was December in Alaska, then this feeling is the inside of a cabin. Right beside the fireplace. He almost smiles. Are you here to taunt me? "Oh no. I'm just here to make sure you're okay, warrior." Fit forces himself to stand. He wobbles slightly on the way up but he manages to steady himself with a deep breath. I don't think I deserve to be called that. It shouldn't have surprised him that the sun was gone. The night should follow the day after all. What was a surprise though was the lack of a moon to light up the sky. Things were illuminated as if there was one. And yet, there is none. Of course. "Oh?" Nonetheless, he eyes up the wall. "So tell me then, FitMC, the so-called legend of 2B2T, what are you?" Fit sighs. The scarf's coming off. "What I am is tired la-" he coughs out, swishing some saliva around to get the horseness out of his throat. "Emperess. My bad, It's Emperess right?" All the while wrapping the scarf around his only human hand. "This is gonna do a number..."

A hum mimicking shock meets him. "I'm impressed, here I thought respect was foreign to you. It appears the brute can show some." "Hey now," he rubs his hands together. the grime from the cave will have to do. "I may be from hell, but that doesn't mean we don't know the concept of authority." Snuffing it out united us them. He hops in place for a minute. It's been more than a minute since he's done this. "Then you should learn this lesson quickly, I am more than above your station FitMC. I am millennia worth of energy and intellect and wisdom, collected all into a flame that grows and develops as time progresses. You are but a spark compared to me." He smirks. "Degradation isn't my thing you're majesty. Nice try though,"

Fit leaps, holding onto a sturdy ledge before securing his feet. "Know your place, little warrior." Ma'am, yes Ma'am! He mimics with a little salute. This is gonna be a long climb.

[tarot-and-stuff]

Pick A Card - Queen Of Swords Edition

Readings are under the read more.  Video version is also included in source link. 

I actually did this the same day as the Judgment pick a card reading, but it took me awhile to type this post.  Same reasons as the Judgment reading (basically this card showing up a bunch when I did the February reads).

Pile 1/Alice In Wonderland

The first card to come out for this pile was the 7 of Teacups reversed, which is basically the 7 of Cups in this deck.  This card can suggest quite a bit of daydreaming, which is fitting with the Alice In Wonderland theme.  There is also a sense of being overwhelmed by options/possibilities/what ifs/etc with this card.

The second card to come out for this pile was the Ace of Spears reversed, which is basically the Ace of Swords in this deck.  This suggests a lack of clarity in a situation, likely in regards to the overwhelming options with that 7 of Teacups reversed.  Basically, it doesn’t seem like any of those cups seem to be the obvious choice to you with the haziness of the Ace of Spears reversed.

The third card to come out was the Page of Spears reversed, which is basically the Page of Swords in this deck.  This can suggest some issues with communicating ideas.  This can include keeping ideas to yourself and/or not quite knowing how to put your thoughts into words.  

The oracle card for this pile was Passion: Do What You Love.  Basically, some advice to pursue something that you’re passionate about.  Perhaps one of those options available to you is something that you are passionate about.

Basically, this pile is encouraged to act logically like the Queen of Swords in regards to an overwhelming/unclear choice that they need to make.

Pile 2/Teddy

The first card to come out for this pile was The Moon.  This is a card of mystery and more going on than meets the eye.  There can be some heavier emotions with this card, such as fear and anxiousness.

The second to come out for this pile was the Knight Of Cups.  This is a card associated with taking action on emotions.  This card is sometimes associated with the Prince Charming archetype.  For the majority of you, I feel like this card represents someone else rather than you.  

The third card to come out for this pile was the Queen Of Cups.  This card is associated with a loving and nurturing individual.  They tend to be open with their emotions and are often supportive to the emotional needs of others.  I feel like this card is the one that represents you in this case.  

The oracle card for this pile was Allowing: Let It Happen.  Basically, allow something to happen, especially if it is beyond your control.  This doesn’t mean that you have to accept it, but also knowing not to stress yourself out over things that are out of your control.

This pile was a bit different, but I feel like this pile is mostly about someone that will deal with someone else wanting to pursue them.  I feel like this catches you off-guard with The Moon card.  I do feel like you’re being encouraged to hear them out before you choose to reject or accept their offer.  

Pile 3/Anime

The first card to come out for this pile was the Ace of Cups.  This is a card about new emotional and/or creative opportunities.  Some of you may be exploring new creative outlets.

The second card to come out was the 7 of Wands.  This is a card associated with tensions and standing your ground.  Their is quite a bit of perseverance with this card as well.

The third card to come out was the Queen of Cups.  This card is associated with a loving and nurturing individual.  They tend to be open with their emotions and are often supportive to the emotional needs of others.  They also know the value of addressing their emotions rather than trying to ignore them, which could explain that Ace Of Cups as you exploring new ways to release frustrations connected to that 7 of Wands.

The oracle card for this pile was Honor: Acknowledge You, Me, And We.  Basically, be willing to accept the role that you’ve had in your accomplishments, as well as the ways that others in your life have helped you.  

Basically, this pile seems to be advised to find a healthy outlet for their emotions while they deal with some potential disagreements and tensions with others around.

Pile 4/Mystical Manga

The first card for this pile was Strength.  Basically, using your strength, physical and emotional, to get through situations that come your way.  Quite a bit of endurance and perseverance is associated with this card.  You may have been going through some tough times lately that have required your strength to carry on rather than give up.

The second card for this pile was the 3 of Pentacles.  This card is associated with working with others.  As a pentacle card, it is generally more associated with co-worker type partnerships, but can also represent closer connections too at times.

The third card to come out for this pile was the 10 of Pentacles.  This card is associated with financial stability and happiness with connections in your life.  

The oracle card for this pile was Playfulness: Just For Fun.  Basically, doing something just for the fun of it rather than focusing solely on the necessities.  

Basically, this pile seems to have been rather focused on handling things.  Things seem to be pretty good for this pile in general, although it certainly wouldn’t hurt for them to take some time to do something just for the fun of it.

Pile 5/Rider-Waite

The first card to come out for this pile was the Ace of Cups.  This is associated with new emotional and/or creative opportunities.  This can also be about exploring new creative/emotional outlets.  This may also be someone expressing their emotions to you/asking you out for a few of you.  

The second card to come out for this pile was the Page of Pentacles.  This card can be associated with learning new skills.  Those new skills could go with that Ace of Cups if it is a new hobby or something like that.  For those of you that the Ace of Cups is an offer from someone, this Page of Pentacles may represent that person, who wants to offer you something (the pentacle that could turn your 9 of Pentacles into the 10 of Pentacles).

The third card to come out was the 9 of Pentacles.  This is associated with financial stability and independence.  You aren’t reliant on anyone to provide for you.  

The oracle card for this deck was Instinct: Trust Your Intuition.  Basically, trusting what your intuition has to tell you about a situation.

[coffeeheartaddict2]

Everybody hurts sometimes (12/18)

Crash

Book: Open Heart (AU)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC a Casey Valentine

Featuring: Naveen Banerji, Alan Ramsey, Tobias Carrick.

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption

*****trigger warning- this series deals with issues of abandonment and addiction*****

Category: Angst

Rating: Mature

Word count: 1841

Summary: Ethan is still haunted by Louise’s overdose and his self destructive behaviours continue, not only harming him but others. Casey makes a decision that adds to Ethan’s self doubt.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry

Authors note: have your comfort food ready pretty much from here to chapter 16. It will be confronting and quite the spiral that Ethan goes through.

🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃

It has been a week since Louise left Edenbrook and Ethan was still confronted. Everyone seemed convinced that he should have spoken to her and see what she had to say for herself, even after all this time but he did not want to know, with her actions, to him anyway speaking louder than any words could.

Ethan’s life fast became a cycle of work, drink, sleep. The only variation being when Casey came over in which the heavier drinking moved until after she was asleep.

He managed to successfully hide it for a few weeks but after a month and a bit of this cycle, those who cared and loved him the most were concerned.

Naveen recognised the signs quickly but gave Ethan time to sort things out himself. When that did not occur he came over, on a day when he knew Casey was not there.

“What is wrong Ethan?”

Nothing is wrong?”

“You can not fool me Ethan, I remember how wracked with grief I was when Priya passed.”

“I am fine Naveen!” As Ethan took another drink of scotch.

“No, you are not. I know you have always been work focussed but lately you have been more possessed than normal and I am sorry but you are also not doing a good job of hiding your drinking as you think. You looked less disheveled when you were putting in the long hours whilst I was dying.”

“I’m fine” said Ethan, voiced laced with emotion.

“Don’t go pushing people away Ethan, it is exactly what she did. Me, your father, Casey. We all love you and want to see you healed.”

“I wish people would accept my decisions. If you are not going to then please leave me be.”

Naveen was affronted. He had never seen Ethan like this and he knew that Ethan was indeed lying to himself but he left.

When Naveen arrived home he called Alan and told him of his meeting with Ethan. Alan was saddened. Alan confided that he had been on the outer with Ethan since Louise first made contact. Naveen asked Alan if Louise had given any indication as to why she left or did not reach out herself. Alan stated that she had not, she understood why I was leaving the ball in Ethan’s court. I mean I was shocked that she reached out after all this time and also shocked she was an addict.

“Was she not addicted to anything?”

“Work, she loved her job and she worked really hard, Louise is who Ethan got his workaholic tendencies from.”

“Well if his level of drinking recently is anything to go by then it is not the only addictive behaviour he has picked up.

Alan shook his head, well let’s hope history does not repeat.”

Naveen nodded in agreement.

Ethan’s relationship with Naveen was not the only casualty. Ethan had not been able to say I love you to Casey since Louise. It did not bother Casey at first, she knew that Ethan much preferred to show her he loved her in other ways but the lack of verbal confirmation was starting to bug her. He still refused to talk about what happened and how it was impacting him now. Even though he appeared to not drink excessively when he was awake, she would feel him leave the bed and come back smelling like a distillery. She knew drinking and even avoiding via sex was unhealthy but she was not sure how to even begin broaching the topic.

It was a week later after his chat with Alan that Naveen met with Casey in his office. The last time Casey was here she was requesting an Ethics Hearing after admitting to Harper that she gave the medication to Mrs Martinez.

“You are not in trouble Casey, please come in.”

“Thank you Naveen.” Said Casey, feeling a little more at ease.

“I am worried about Ethan, Casey”

“I am too Naveen. He has not been able to say I love you since Louise left the hospital, he does not drink to excess when I am awake but I know he gets up during the night.”

Naveen was saddened to hear this.

“I know he was hurt badly by her actions, I get not wanting to reach out but he was so confronted with her here and clearly he never healed from the trauma. I know he feels like he is unlovable but he is just self fulfilling a prophecy right now.”

“I understand, when my sister Priya died, I was a mess, she had cancer, I did get to say goodbye to her in person and it hurt. Deep down I knew she understood and we did speak before she passed but not seeing her, not being able to do much from afar…”

“I wish he would talk about it but I do not know how to broach the subject with him, Naveen. I have always known there was anger there but this is a whole new level.”

Naveen nodded, “Ethan has always kept Alan at arms length but even he has been pushed further away.”

“I feel for Alan, not only been pushed away but after all this time, your wife finally reaches out and all she wants is to speak to Ethan.”

“Did you speak to her whilst she was here?”

“No, out of respect for Ethan’s privacy though I wish I did.”

“You have been good for him Casey. I hope he does not push you away.”

“Me too” said Casey sadly. Casey left, saddened that Naveen appeared to be on the outer. Then she thought about how Ethan had been with her especially lately and she wondered too if she was indeed been pushed away.

She had late shifts the next few days then a day off. She decided that on the night before her day off she would see Ethan. It was late and possibly not the best time to have this conversation but the longer she left it the harder it was going to be.

She let herself into the building and made her way to his apartment. She used her key to let herself into his apartment. Ethan was awake but not sobre. He was not expecting the door to open and he was confused and became surprised quickly when he saw Casey.

“I did not expect to see you” slurred Ethan.

“You are drunk” stated Casey.

“I am fine…”

“No Ethan you are not.” Casey took a deep breath. “You have not been fine since she came into the ED.”

“Casey…”he walks over to kiss her but Casey takes a step back.

“No Ethan, we are going talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about!” Exclaimed Ethan

“Nothing too…” Casey throws her hands in the air in disbelief.

“The fact you think there is nothing to talk about is the issue.” Casey takes a few breaths . “I get the anger, if someone walked out for no reason and did not contact me again I would be upset too, but how is pushing those who love you and care about you helpful?”

“I am not pushing anyone…”

“Yes you are Ethan, ever since she has left you have pushed not only Naveen but also me away”

“No I have not pushed you…”

“How have you not pushed me away? Tell me. You can not even say I love you, or I care about you, I have started to feel used after we have sex, you sneak out of bed to drink…again Ethan, how have you not pushed me away?”

“I am not feeling loved Casey, how do you expect me to say I love you?”

“Therapy, I don’t know, confront Louise, find out why she left you, the answers are not in scotch and sex, you went through trauma Ethan.”

“That woman left me for drugs,pure and simple…”

“You do not know for sure Ethan, the addiction could have come later.”

“It does not negate the fact that she fucking walked out that door with no explanation no nothing!”

“That is on her, not you, you rose above it then but you aren’t now and it is killing the relationships that I know mean more than anything to you.”

“I am not ruining…”

“Yes you are Ethan, the longer you don’t properly address the issues, the more damage you are doing. I want to be here for you truly but if you can not accept the help and love from me, Naveen, hell even your own father then I can not stay. I’m sorry Ethan but I can not do us anymore if you keep down this self destruction.”

Ethan is a tumult of emotions but anger wins out.

“Then get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Casey tosses her key on the bench and walks out.

When Casey shuts the door, his anger turns to sorrow.

“Fuck” he tells as he throws a tumbler across the room. He collapses onto the floor and cries. He eventually gets up and gets another drink to numb the extra pain he is in.

Casey manages to make it to the lift before letting her tears loose. She knew deep down she loved him but she knew that she was going to get hurt more if she stayed. She made her way to her apartment. Aurora came home at the same time, surprised to see Casey. They head up. Casey telling Aurora the gist of what has been happening. Aurora asked what she was going to do about her residency. Casey said she did not know right now.

Casey went to bed and Aurora messaged Tobias stating Casey is wanting to look for a new residency, can we fit her in at Kenmore.

Tobias had to do a double take.

“What the fuck did you do Ethan” he muttered to himself.

Tobias then messaged Aurora that he would speak to the chief first thing.

Later that morning Aurora got a text from Tobias stating to come in early and bring Casey to meet with Dr McRae.

Aurora told Casey and she was appreciative. They met with Dr McRae and she was impressed. Casey was to continue her residency at Mass Kenmore. She was to start the following Monday and even said she would get the ball rolling with Naveen.Casey was appreciative.

Later that evening Naveen contacted Casey. He expressed sadness at her leaving. Casey said she had to, she explained how she confronted Ethan and how he was in denial of everything and how she ended it. Naveen was saddened but understood.

Naveen then sent an email to the team advising of Casey’s transfer. Ethan received the email. He read it but he was too numb. On a base level he knew Casey was right, he was pushing people away but he was scared of that fact that they may not indeed be there at the end of the healing so he did what he did to cope and that was to have another drink.

——-

Authors note: do we hate me yet???? Those who have seen my outline know that this is not the end of the spiral. But again happy ending. Next chapter there is a slight reprieve.

For those who have endured thank you

Tagging: @jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @cariantha @genevievemd @alj4890 @tessa-liam @potionsprefect @youlookappropriate @trappedinfanfiction @bex-la-get @crazy-loca-blog @a-crepusculo @ofmischiefandmedicine @liaromancewriter @schnitzelbutterfingers @binny1985 @lucy-268

@openheartfanfics

@choicesficwriterscreations

[mythvoiced]

@uroborosymphony | continued~

There's an ocean roaring violently in her ears that sounds like tonnes of skin-scalding chemicals thrown her way, chasing her down from a labyrinth of factory hallways that sometimes occupy even her kindest dreams - tallest dwarf and all that.

It roars with the ferocity of the sea and the death-wailing of the sirens dying within it, speared to death by reality as they take shape of all of Maria's hopes and dreams, even though the phrasing 'hopes and dreams' seems so out of place here, when the content of them tastes and smells like blood and ash.

She's angry.

And she's so fucking...

She never uses the word 'sad'... or 'upset', 'devastated', even, that's for... that's weakness, that's vulnerability, that's being the little girl she actually is, the girl she refuses to be.

Deva towers even when she's seated, it's an ability of those who use their body as a weapon, not as meat-bags to flounter on runways, a spin here, a look there to appeal to lingering gazes and sweeping looks. No, Deva's weaponizing lies in her body being an actual weapon. There's not a victor out there who doesn't do a double-take, who doesn't falter, who doesn't halt, who doesn't swallow or laugh awkwardly enough to bordering on hysterics when Deva's name is dropped into a conversation.

The respect earned by being so much bigger than Maria can ever hope to be.

She doesn't need to be framed by the smoke of her dying and abandoned cigarette, she doesn't need to be dressed like men line up to fall under her feet to be crushed under her calm stampede and women bear their throat to be clutched by her hand around it, she doesn't even need to stand up to prove that she is everything Maria dreams to be (on the other side of things) and is incapable of being.

So it certainly doesn't help Maria to watch anger bloom on her face and then watch her stand.

The step back is instinctual.

She isn't afraid of Deva. Afraid of what she's heard of her, of what she sees, the look in her eyes, the way her lips had tightened, jaws clamped shut at the order in her voice, so easily put back in her place by Deva for the mere reason that she respects her, that she does actually trust to look up to her as contrasted to just about anyone else's in Deva's position.

But not being afraid doesn't mean not occasionally behaving as though you are. Maybe it's an unconscious attempt on her body's part, remnants of the games she refuses to acknowledge sewn into her behavioral patterns like patches over ripped and hole-filled sweaters, signs of something torn that can never be fixed and brought back to its original state again.

Maybe it's an attempt to not lose Deva, not lose whatever interest she may have in someone so... so small. Not lose whatever care Deva did actually possess for her that made her take the time to explain.

She shrivels, a little, eyes flicker their gaze from keeping themselves occasionally downcast, to glaring up at the older woman, a defiant child, rightfully scolded and aware of her deserving all she's being told.

The guilt spreads in her chest the way it only should for someone half her age. Caught with her hand in the cookie jar or simply discovering for the first time that an action is not only that, every seed will have ramifications to grow.

And yet, and yet, even though something sour and venomous coils at the back of her throat as Deva goes on, even though the mention of Patrick and the implications of the struggle, the fight, the pain the two of them had gone through makes Maria flinch, her shoulders remained hunched together in defence, her arms come up to cross over her chest in defiance.

Her people.

Maria doesn't have a people, it's a weak sense of belonging but it's all she has--

Those were her people, kids just like her, people from her district.

How many people did Deva have?

It somehow makes the pulling of punches make the words preceding the ones spoken to her from closer proximity land like heavier hits. Oh how much shame can coat guilt when you're granted forgiveness, how sudden the realization hits that you don't deserve it only the moment it's offered to you.

Understanding.

A chance to bond.

A chance to ask 'what did it cost you?' and risk unwinding whatever pain hides behind Deva's straight back and assured step, whatever prompts her to put Maria back in her place and then reassure her, whatever makes her so good at both.

She lasts a few moments only with her hands in Deva's. Her throat is tight and raw at the lack of talking, as though she'd been made to shout. She yanks her hands out of Deva's grip, perhaps too forcefully, doesn't manage to look her in the eyes again when she steps back, off to the side, fingers reaching, hesitating, and falling off the edge of Deva's desk, as though she briefly considered collapsing onto it.

"And what," she starts, closing her eyes for a moment, as though she knows she will regret continuing to speak.

It cost me everything.

Deva looks spectacular in Capitol clothing. The angriest, most volatile part of Maria's heart almost wants to shout for her to simply take what she's offered. Abandon them all, would you? Have the life you might get if you let Snow win.

It's a mean, misplaced thought of a hurt young adult.

It's also the misguided and wrongly worded plea for a reality in which Deva won't be forced to lose anything and some of that pain in her eyes, so cleverly masked, can be healed.

"Mingle? Sweet-talk people into helping me? Play their game? Wait it out? How long have you and Patrick been suffering?"

What did it cost you, what is 'everything'?

"How long can you keep being cautious? How long 'til we realize they've always had us exactly where they wanted us... by forcing us to be cautious. Maybe you were wrong being like... like me-" it feels wrong, to claim to be something, even via implications alone, she's nothing she's nothing to be compared to, noth- "-back then but what about now? Is it the same?"