#and also. I simply did not like the psychologist and did not want to have to go back

[bookwyrminspiration]

god I would be UNSTOPPABLE if I was capable of consistently initiating tasks. just you wait. you'll be waiting a while but just you wait

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

Update on my mental health testing I’ve been doing since I finally got my diagnosis. I was not diagnosed with adhd or ocd like I thought I’d be. Apparently there is a disorder for inattentiveness due to screen time that I’m diagnosed with but was told that doesn’t cover all of my issues. And then I was told that I’d need some more testing to prove this but the psychologist testing me thinks that I just have too high of an iq and am simply bored. Catch me making a list of symptoms now both good and bad

[ch4nb4ng]

Marital Duties

Pairing: Chan x afab!reader

Word count: 9.4k

Genre: Established relationship, married

Warning: SMUT (18+ only), phone sex, sexting, car sex, mention of boobs, oral sex (f. receving), penetration, swearing, mention of cum, mentions of pussy, kissing, praise

Note: ok i kinda nervous to post this but yas! Here is my inspo (here) (here) (here) warning it’s literally p word.

Tagged: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree @kpopsstuffs

Summary: Having a job that meant travelling and spending time away from your husband made the absence grow much fonder for you and your needs, as well as your husbands.

Work conferences were the bane of your existence. Yes you were away from your kid and sometimes it was hard, but being away from your husband was harder. There was no doubt about your job. Being a world renowned forensic psychologist was amazing and something you wanted for a long time. Sometimes though, it was nice to just curl up on the couch, read a good book, watch a comforting movie; there was nothing wrong with indulging in self-care, you just did not have the time to do so. 

The recent promotion into becoming head of the north-west region of mental health care was a big step up from your previous job. No one than you was more qualified for this. Everyone, colleagues and board members put your name up. Psychology was your life, but your family was bigger. 

Highschool sweethearts, you and your husband had been inseparable since what felt like the dawn of time. Meeting at 15, having your first dance at 17 at prom. Graduating and going to college together; If you had a dollar for everytime you accomplished a big milestone with him or because of him, you would be swimming in luxury. When the two of you got married, things just fell into place even more. The doubt of being able to help people mentally after graduating from your post grad made you nervous, but then again, you never thought that you would be married to such a wonderful man. A dream job at your local hospital fell into your lap, and your husband became the nurse that everybody wanted to assist them with their care. Working in close contact with him everyday was just another blessing in disguise; you simply could not get enough of him. It was impossible to get sick of him.

That was when you decided to have your first child. What could be a better mix than the two of you combined? The first 4 years of parenthood came with its challenges. Nevertheless, it was the best decision you ever made, and you couldn’t think of anyone better than to share the unfamiliar journey with.

The promotion, however, meant that you wouldn't work with your husband as much, and spending time with your daughter was a little limited, but you knew he would never tell you to turn something down, and in a way it was the best decision for your marriage. The times together were shorter, but it also meant that every moment was savored tenfold. The time was better quality, the acts of service more thoughtful, and the sex. The sex, was that much more passionate, just like the first time he made love to you. He would always find ways to surprise you. Whether it was the way he grasped, grabbed you on the fibers that lingered to be touched, the way his body pressed upon yours, lips lingering on new places. You were always amazed with how much he could do, and what he was capable of.

These are the ideas that tortured your mind when you were away on business trips. Calling him and hearing his voice, seeing his face through the tiny phone screen was not enough. It didn’t matter how long you had been together, you always craved and missed him significantly.

“Hang on,” he whispered through the phone speaker, “someone wants to say hi to you.”

Your heart beamed with joy every time you saw her little face on the screen. God she looked like her dad, and you knew she'd  grow up to be a beautiful woman.

“Hi mommy,” she giggled, fingers crinkling then uncrkinly as she waved at the camera, “I miss you mommy.”

“Aw baby,” you pouted, “I miss you too. Mommy will be home tomorrow. Now it’s time for you to sleep.”

“Yes,” he cooed, “and daddy is going to read you a bedtime after you say goodnight to mommy.”

Your baby squealed with joy, running out of the frame and to her room. You could do nothing but chuckles, careless that she was that excited over a book of words that she forgot to say goodnight.

“Let me call you back at 15.”

You nodded, pressing the red cross before rolling on your back and looking up at the ceiling, admiring the off white paint color, heart beating out of your chest every second that the callback was not made. It’s not that you were worried he wouldn’t call back, you just felt that longing you always did when you weren’t looking at him.

The vibration on your chest was extra sensitive. You rolled back over, now lying on your front with your hand resting on your chin, other hand holding the phone as you answered. 

“Hey baby.”

“Hiiii,” you whispered, a smile on your face impossible to be rid of.

“She was out like a light.”

“I’m glad.”

“How was your day, baby? I want to hear all about it.”

You giggled as you saw him get up, walking into the bathroom of your house as he placed you against the bench next to the sink. Chan wasn’t shy. He thought it was completely normal to remove his scrubs and leave his upper body bare as he bent down to the bottom drawer, taking out his skincare and placing it on his face. Chan was your husband. You had seen him shirtless 100 more times than you could count. It should not affect you this much. It should not make the temperature of your cheeks rise. It should not cause a sudden sharpness of change in your breath. It should not make your eyes bulge, and it should definitely not send you into a head spin when his biceps flexed when washing his face. Being a clinical psychologist meant having pristine precision and concentration, so if anybody got a hold of this live footage right now, they might question your profession.

“Y/n, Y/n?”

You blinked, quickly snapping your head to get back in the game. It was too late, however, your husband was already smirking at your distraction. You could try and play it off, but the both of you knew that he was too smart to fall for that.

“Sorry babe, I’m a bit distracted.”

“Oh yeah? What’s distracting you?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “you know exactly what you are doing.”

“Me?” He gasped, placing a hand on his chest, flexing his opposite bicep, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his obvious attempt to woo you over, the subtle flirt. Sometimes it was easy to resist, but in this case, it was easier to play along, feign innocence until he truly told you what he wanted. The two of you liked to play such games, especially when you were on the road. It was time for you to sit up, placing Chan on the lamp atop of the bedside table before placing yourself on the edge of the hotel bed. The buttons on your shirt were suddenly feeling a little tight. The smirk on your husband’s face grew the moment he saw the first two buttons undone, a sneak peak of your cleavage making its debut for the night. You stopped there, gently pulling down the fabric, stretching the collar of the shirt, consequently putting your chest on full display. 

“Two can play that game Mr. Bang.”

A deep chuckle escaped his lips as he walked over to your shared bedroom, placing his phone in similar fashion to yours before removing his bottoms, your husband now in nothing but his boxers as he laid down, stretching out his legs before lifting you again, wanting the closest view to your fingers continuing to remove one button at a time, a painfully slow movement to your fingertips. Fuck. Now he kind of regretted starting this game with you tonight. A gasp of gratification spilt from Chan’s lips as he watched the satin material that made up your shirt slither off those, in his words, gorgeous shoulders of yours. The black lace bra, the one being your husband’s favorites out of pure coincidence the only garment covering your chest. 

Chan loved every part of you, make no mistake. He would worship every part of your body 24/7 if he could. He simply could never get enough of you, but your chest, your breasts were on a whole different level. Chan loved your boobs. It didn’t matter what the two of you were doing, promiscuous acts or not, if he could have his hands on them, he could. Cuddling, sex, hugs; call him a pervert, but he didn’t care. It was his wife for god sakes. He would feel abnormal if he wasn’t attracted to them. Conveniently for you, this was something you could play to your advantage. Didn’t want to do the dishes? Show him your cleavage. Needed to put your daughter to sleep but you wanted him to do it? Promise him to show your cleavage after he does so. It was a convenient weapon to use, and this was the perfect time to use it. It was fair, seeing as he was using the weapon of his own to try and get you where he wanted.

“Aw come on,” he whined, “you did that on purpose?”

“Did what,” you smiled, fingers gently tracing the lace attached to the strap, “I didn’t do anything.”

Tapping the phone screen, you sighed. It was like, and your flight home was something that required you getting up much earlier that you would ever prefer. You should go to sleep. Hang up on him. You were going to see him tomorrow anyway, surely you could suppress your urges until then. 

But then you saw your husband redirect his palm from the outside of his undergarment, which was obvious to the eye, to the inside, a gentle slap against his skin as it dived past the waist band. Fuck this was cruel now. Not only because you could see his hands subtly tumbling underneath, he drew attention to how hard he already was, and you didn’t know what aroused you more: his probaby pulsating length or the fact that he was as aroused as he was because of you. It didn’t matter how many times it occurred, Chan always had a way of making you feel special. Physically, emotionally, intimately; it was part of his aura, and one of the main reasons that you were so attracted to him in the first place.

“Baby,” you gasped, hands traveling up waist and to your chest, gently kneading the mass in an attempt to match his slow pace that he was palming himself, “you’re so naughty. I have to go to bed.”

“Aw come on baby,” he groaned, head resting atop the headboard, gaze even more piercing at the angle his head was at rest, “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I know Chan,” you sighed, your next words going to be knowingly disappointing for him, “I have to check out at 3am and it’s already almost 10. You know what I’m like when I don't get my beauty sleep.”

Chan gave you a disapproving pout as he took his hands out of boxers, a shiny ring reappearing from the undergarment as he took the phone with both and lay flat on his back, sinking under the sheets and head gliding onto the pillow. He was humbly accepting defeat, most likely because he would see you tomorrow anyway; that’s when he could have his fun.

“I know baby it’s ok,” he smiled, bringing his face as close as possible to the camera, lips still pouting, “let me give you a kiss goodnight.”

“Thank you baby,” you giggled, also leaning forward to kiss the phone screen simultaneously before whispering a small, “goodnight.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and the adrenaline from your almost raunchy rendezvous over the phone wore off quickly. You weren’t that young anymore. Getting tired was much easier. There was much less energy, especially after getting riled up like that. Even if it was what you saw while you were sleeping in your dreams, and you only have to wait 12 hours to see your beautiful husband in the flesh. 

***

The alarm caused a fright, a deep groaning sound of annoyance bellowing from you, but that quickly wore off. The immediate thought of seeing Chan and your beautiful daughter being the main reason for your sudden change in temperament. Your bags were already packed and you organized your brain knowing that you would be too tired to do it in the morning The smile on your face couldnt dared to be wiped off once you were in the taxi. The cool breeze of the warm summer hitting your face as you pushed the window in the back seat halfway down. Summer was your favorite time of the year, especially since it was the time you got to spend with your family that was of the best quality. All of the aspects of your job you loved, even the times you traveled. However, your heart did sink a little when you had to travel at this time of the year. The school holidays always felt too short, so when you had to travel, the amount was even shorter.

A ding from your phone brought out of your somewhat solemn daze, heat creeping to your cheeks immediately:

[hubby <3] 7:00 am Can’t wait to see you, hope there aren't any delays at the airport.

*one attachment*

Jesus fuck. Now sending a full blown dick pick with your daughter in the car, which you assumed was there, was definitely not the way to go; and thank god your husband knew that. But that did not let him off the hook. It was a photo of him, in the mirror, with his face cut off and only his lips in the frame. He was wearing a black sleeveless tank and those fucking grey tracksuit pants. Call yourself cliche, but nothing turned you on more than that particular piece of clothing. Chan had one hand on the camera, the other hand at the base of his hardened length. He always did this. As mature as Chan was, the times he chose to be inappropriate truly were the most inconvenient for you. A loud gasp escaped your lips, head almost hitting the chair in front as the driver came to a halt.

“Everything okay back there?”

“Uh yes,” your head snapped towards him, nodding furiously as a terrible attempt at acting in the norm, “why did we stop?”

“We are at the airport, miss?”

His tone sounded one of question, kind of looking at you in the rear mirror like you were one of the strangest passengers he had. You looked outside, a ferocious laugh escaping your lips as you decided it was better to say nothing and just pay, get out, and grab your own luggage. The awkwardness left your mind in shambles. How dare he send such a photo. Your husband. It was most likely to get revenge from last night, because he knew you would have to sit on the plane and suffer in silence.

Your luggage was checked in quickly, security easy to get through; there was plenty of time to wait in the boarding lounge. At first you were annoyed by the message. The sexual frustration that had already accumulated from your absence away from him was enough, but if anything, it felt like this was an extra punishment for last night.

But then you opened it again, started analyzing it (if you could call it that) until your finger was subconsciously in your mouth. It didn’t matter how many times you looked at him, your husband, he was always going to do it for you, every single time. The ache that has been coming and going throughout the week returned, and it made you annoyed. So annoyed that you found yourself lifting your butt from your chair, walking to the bathroom and locking yourself in one of the stalls. Gripping the bottom of your shirt, you pulled it down as much as you could without taking it off, mimicking a downward looking angle in an attempt to copy your husband, lips down as the camera clicked, off silent. Fuck. It’s fine. The idea that people may have heard the sounds of you taking a photo in the toilet. You were too fueled with a horny rage to think of the ramifications as you sent your photo, giving in and responding to him.

[Y/N] 8:30am No delays. Make sure you’re there on time.

*one attachment*

Oh, he was gonna hate that. Chan had patience for a lot of things. But short, dry messages were something that made him mad. Serves him for sending you that first. You knew exactly what his reaction would be as well, but at least you could board the plane in peace.

**

It was around 3 hours before the plane arose from one location and landed in another. The plane ride was painful. You tried to do the things you usually would. Create drafts for your patients, read a book, watch a downloaded netflix movie, and just sink into your non-reclining chair and relax; but you simply couldn’t.

The brain rot that was the simple image of your husband’s half naked torso should not be affecting you this much. But that was the problem too. It wasn’t just the picture. That image was the catalyst for the sexual rumination that had been numbing your brain for the past week. The want to get home was even stronger now knowing that you really had something to look forward to.

Of course, to your dismay and longing, the baggage claim took forever, security had a long line, and by the time all of that had been completed, it was, of course, an hour schedule that you told your husband to come and pick you up. The look on his face was sour to say the least. There he was, leaning against the exterior of your shared four wheel drive, drinking his probably now lukewarm coffee. The tingle instantly came back to your core, feeling like a teenage girl again. The scene was just like old times. Chan, waiting around the corner from your house to come and pick you up. The only thing that was different was that it was slightly taller, and had a few more wrinkles. Nonetheless, he looked super hot. Still wearing those grey sweatpants, and a fucking black tank. A fucking blank tank that was probably the tightest fitting pieceing of clothing in his fucking closet. His stance was strong, biceps, triceps, and ¾ of his pecs bulging out in public, and it was truly making your brain dizzy. You walked over quietly, the jarring sound of your suitcase wheels rolling along the parking lot concrete ruining the suspense of your arrival. Chan’s head snapped, eye widening the moment you appeared in his vision. 

“Hi baby, sorry I’m late the customs took for-”

The interruption was welcome as Chan shoved his phone in his pocket, apparently with an empty takeaway coffee cup falling to the floor as he enveloped you into his arms, a groan of admiration falling from his lips as they immediately attached to yours, your body to relaxing against his, eyes fluttering shut at his touch. God, it was only a week. One week, but you craved his touch more than anything in the world. It truly was the little things such as his calloused textures, the warmth of his skin, his smile. Holy fuck his smile was, in your opinion, the greatest thing in the world that ever existed. 

“Mmmh,” you hummed, gently pulling away, hands snaking across your husband’s waist, a smug smile on your lips, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too baby,” he growled, morning raspiness to his tone, “how was your flight?”

The implication of his question made your eyes ogle, the visual image of his text message imprinting on your brain. The smirk that developed on his face formed the expression of realization that hit you. Suddenly his grip on your waist was tighter, and Chan was pulling you in even closer, leaving you to feel everything; yes, everything. 

“It was good,” you giggled, knowing that you had been caught, “what was not good was your behavior since last night.”

“Hmm is that so? I don't see this being a one-sided activity?”

Your right hand left his torso, smacking him on the chest before taking a step back and walking to the car. It was fun to pretend to be annoyed, especially because you knew it would work your husband up even more. Chan hated when you sulked, especially when he playfully called you out. Chan always liked games, and so did you, because you knew that there was always one thing it would lead to. The longer the game went on, the more passionate the ending to this game would be. You walked into the car, peacefully sitting in the passenger seat as you left your husband to take your suitcase and place it in the boot. Serves him right for being a smartass. There was no sound except for the car door once the two of you were inside. The ignition was turned on, and so were you, watching your husband's arm reach over to the shoulder of your car seat, his head turned to look behind him. This was so dumb! You really should not be aroused by this; you’ve seen him do this thousands of times.

“You okay babe?”

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of this lustful daze, “yeah, why?”

“Ok it’s just,” he paused, shifting into drive, then placing his hand on the inside of your thigh, “you’re staring at me like a piece of meat.”

“I am not,” you scoffed, “you wish I was staring at you like that.”

He said nothing, a light chuckle following as the car fell into another silence. A comfortable one at that, well, to an extent. His thumb was gently nudging at your skin, knuckles inching closer to your center. There was something in the air, and the longer it lingered, the harder it was to ignore it. The want. The need to have him. It was impossible. You knew that even if you did get home soon that your daughter was home, and there was no way you were going to traumatize her like that; kids remember everything. If you took too long in the car, your father would get suspicious. He was one to get on your nerves like that, especially if he spent more time than agreed to watching your beautiful child. 

“I got your text message this morning.”

Chan’s eyes were on the road, which forced you to keep yours. Your eyebrows furrowed however, knowing that the street he just turned down was not the right way to your house. Instead, Chan turned the opposite direction, the car coming to an immediate stop at a lookout, but not just any lookout. The lookout east. The two of you came from a small town, meaning there weren't many spots to go; that was until the lookout east was uncovered. Back then it was the talk of the town, the go to hookup spot for many. You have seen it yourself. It had a beautiful view however, and most of the time you and Chan would go just to admire the view, but did not mean that every time would be an innocent one. The two of you had not been in years, and there was a big question mark as to why you were here right now. Chan said nothing, getting out of the car and walking over to your side, opening your own door before opening the back door, crawling in with you following. The two of you got comfortable, that was, until Chan pinned you down to the back seat, lips once again attacking yours as he pressed his horny groin into yours, a deep groan bellowing from your husband's chest. His dominance was easy to comply with, the desperate moan falling from your lips a culmination of feelings from the past 12 hours. This really could have been the horniest you have ever been in your whole entire life, even including the times of excessive sexual hormonal changes during pregnancy. His tongue snaked past your lips, without any slight of permission as his hips fell into a gentle rhythm. Chan moved with such delicacy and poise, yet somehow he was able to convey his ultra high level of arousal. Now you were in big trouble; it was serious business when Chan pinned you down like that. It meant he had serious business to take care of. 

“Chan,” you tried to speak, his lips interrupting each word, “what, are you doing?”

He pulled away, sitting up. Chan said nothing, eyes fixated on your chest as he grasped your wrist to pull you up, your body clumsily falling into him as you fixed your balance. Chan was quick to attack your lips again, hands making light work as they gripped onto the edge of your shirt. Your arms lifted unconsciously, allowing the kiss to break as he took off your shirt, your upper body in nothing but your undergarments. Your husband was like a kid in a candy store the moment he saw the slightest bit of cleavage. Chan’s arms wrapped around your back as he effortlessly unclasped the unwanted fabric, lips immediately attaching to your left nipple. A gracious moan fell from your lips, a hand tickling the back of the hair at the base of his skull, keeping a guidance. At first this tongue was small, gentle. A few kitty licks right in the center. Although it was minimal touch, you were one to have more sensitive nipples, so the feeling was already heaven enough. It wasn’t until his entire mouth was attached, a parietal noise of vacuum escaping his lips each time your tit went in and out of his mouth. 

“Mmmmm,” you hummed, back arching slightly at the subtle texture of his teeth, “you’re like fuckin newborn.”

“Mhh can’t help it,” he huffed, out of breath, hand replacing his lips for a brief moment, “makes me want to have another kid.”

Chan gave you no time to reply, lips resuming their position, but now on the opposite nipple. His fingers never stopped moving, either on your shoulder, running up and down your arms, but mainly on your breasts, doing whatever he can to feel you. Each squeeze of the mound brought a whine to your throat. His statement ran through your mind and just stayed there. Having another kid was not really something the two of you had ever spoken about. It wasn’t that it was off the table, no. It truly was just something that had not come up in conversation. You could understand why he wanted to have one, and in this moment especially, it had nothing to do with having an actual child. 

It is true that when you met your husband, your body shape resembled more of a P, but when you were pregnant with your daughter, Chan was on another planet. Any chance he got, his hands were on them. Call him twisted, but he loved how much bigger and softer they got when you were deep into pregnancy.

When you came back out of thought, and the major distraction of your husband's lips on your body, you pushed him away gently. You followed the sort of harsh motion with a gentle peck to his lips, arm wrapping around his neck as you smiled at him in disbelief. The last chance the two of you, well more him, had been so reckless like this was so long ago you would not even be able to recall. This didn’t mean you hated it though, if anything, it satisfied that little part of your adolescence that lingered. The adolescence that was always sparked whenever you were away. Whenever your calls turned to a lustful space. The photos. The phone calls. Usually the ‘rebellious’ behaviors were to compensate for the distance. But now, Chan was hungry for you, even when you were right in front of him.

“Babe, what has gotten into you?”

Your husband buried his face into your chest, a large breath filling his nostrils, your scent deeply satisfying him before he responded. 

“I just missed you a lot, baby. And that picture you sent drove me fucking wild.”

A smirk appeared on your lips, legs hovering over your husband's waist before encasing the lower limbs around his waist, a light amount of friction created by the swift move of your hips makes him hum in pleasure. Your eyes, now sitting on top of his lap, gazed over, looking down on the poor man. There was a slight emotion of guilt there. Depriving him of getting what he wanted. You didn't really care though. If anything, pissing him off usually led to better sex after, and there was nothing in this moment that you wanted more. 

“Mmmh, as much as I want this,” you mumbled, another soft kiss in between your sentences, “I need to go home and see my daughter which I have not seen in a week.” 

“You’re right,” Chan chuckled, “I am getting a little bit carried away, aren't I?” 

Yeah he was impatient, but he understood, and it was one thing you really loved about him. He was extremely empathetic, sometimes to a fault. Able to put himself in everyone else’s shoes. So as soon as you mentioned wanting to see your daughter more, he understood. He passed you your bra and shirt, quickly helping you put them back on, not without stealing another mouth watering kiss, and hopping back into the driving and passenger seat promptly. 

The drive was once again peaceful; which lasted around 30 seconds. Maybe it was a better idea to just fuck in the back of your car, because the ache between your legs, when reflecting on the past week, was at the most intense it had been. Maybe this was your karma for withholding your body from your very eager husband. It didn’t matter now because whether you liked it or not, all of this was going to have been scheduled at a much later, uncertain time.

Chan’s hand was placed on your thigh like before, the light background and the noise somewhat distracting you, but not for long. Your husband’s grip was getting stronger and stronger, inching closer and closer to your wanting pussy with each second. A sharp gasp left your lips when his middle finger traced over the hem of your jeans, your level of arousal heightened to the point where even the breeze most likely was enough to partly satisfy yourself.

“Chan.”

“Y/n.”

“Stop it,” you whined, fingers coincidentally fidgeting with the button of your jeans, following the same direction with your zipper before the pair of pants were below your waist, your bottom undergarments now on display. You looked down, embarrassed at the mass wet patch coating your panties. Your husband's hands took a little bit of a wander, but froze almost immediately when he felt that familiar patch he had felt oh so many times. The digits were quick to act, another moan spelling from your mouth as soon as he got you in the exact spot he knew to touch. That were the perks of having a husband, because whether the time of orgasm was long or short, he knew exactly where to touch you to make that happen.

“Your body is having the opposite reaction,” he smirked, “and my eyes are strictly on the road.”

“And keep it that way.”

“Mhmm,” he ignored, fingers somehow able to push your panties to the side, raw fingertips now spreading open those pussy lips. God you felt dirty, nasty. How could you do this in your fucking car? Too horny to even wait until you were in the comfort of your bedroom. You were much too harsh on yourself. It was most definitely your husband's fault for opening that can of worms the moment he rocked up on the facetime camera without his shirt on. Therefore, your humility was minimized, there were always much worse things you could have done. Chan was easily able to find that wanting little entrance of yours, two fingers effortlessly plunging themselves inside, the unsympathetic texture of his hard working fingers gently scratching the velvet interior of your walls, hips now gently rocking back and forth on him. Your hands came to your breasts automatically, pinching, twisting, flicking the sensitive buds in any way possible that could create a replica of Chan’s mouth from previous moments. Fuck, no one else could do you like your husband, even yourself.

“Fuck Chan,” you whimpered, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Shh it’s okay,” he cooed, coaxing you through his honey textured tone, “just let it feel good, worry about other things later.”

Just as you let your head fall against the headrest, eye fluttering shut, the car came to a halt. Eyes flying open, a mound of disappointment when your visual fields were filled with your front yard. To your dismay, your husband withdrew his fingers from your pussy, a large squelching sound in the moment as he placed his hands on the gear shift, placing the toe of your into park before turning the car ignition off. The look you were giving your husband now was one of sadness, despair, making him laugh. He loved when you were dramatic.

“You’re not happy to be home?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, redoing your pants up before storming out of the car, forcing your husband to grab your suitcase as you stood impatiently at the front door, waiting for him to open it. It would be impossible to wipe the puffed up look of content on his face, knowing that he got right under your skin. Games were fun to play, but you simply knew that if he didn’t give you what you wanted soon, the house would fall into chaos. It was one thing to wind you up, but this time it was too far to push through, then stop just when things were getting good.

A fake smile plastered on your face, the refreshing thought of seeing your daughter coming back into your mind as you walked through your abode. It faded however, unable to see or hear anything that resembled your little baby. It wasn’t until you walked down your long hallway that led to your kitchen that you saw the note on your marble bench. It read the following:

Hi Darling, hope you had a safe flight!

I have taken my beautiful granddaughter to the park for a playdate with a couple of her friends and the other available parents. 

We are leaving at around midday, and won’t be back for a few couple hours. Apologies you will have to wait a little longer, but I couldn’t say no to her beating eyes when she asked me.

I'll see you when I’m looking at you.

Dad

“Chan!”

Your timbre was loud, somewhat frightening your husband as he rolled your luggage across the floor, meeting you in your shared kitchen. He was kind of worried. Chan knew that your dad was taking care of her while he went to pick you up, but he never said anything about taking her out. He stood next to you, trying to analyze your expressions before you spoke. You missed your daughter a lot, there was nothing false about that statement. Nonetheless, when the smug look came to your face at the thought of what having an empty house implied, you couldn't help yourself. 

“Did you know that my dad took her to the park?”

Oh fuck. Chan thought he was in trouble; big big trouble. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress your smile at how hopeless he looked. Being the medical professional you were, it was easy to read your husband like a book. And after his actions, which were already on the verge of crossing the threshold of what you would put up with, he was in his every right mind to react this way. Walking on eggshells was the right way to go. From his friskiness on the phone, to sending an almost naked picture to you in public, to publicly groping and prodding at your highly aroused body in the discomfort of your car, to now delaying your reunion with his daughter; my my my did he dig himself a massive grave that he would not be able to dig himself out of this one. 

“No,” he answered, hesitance leaking from his tone, “she must have asked him after I left.”

“Right,” you paddled, handing the note your dad had left to your husband. A sigh of relief in the form of his chest falling from the fat breath he sucked in before dissipating from his chest. Taking a step close, your husband ignored, focusing all his efforts on the written material until he felt the texture of what was your fingertips find a place on his torso, index fingers ‘accidentally’ finding a way underneath the hem of the thin material that made up his shirt. The note was removed from your husband’s face in the form of a toss with his own hand, eyes piercing into yours the more and more the skin of his torso was being exposed to the light. Your palms then became a part of the conversation, gently pressing against your husband's groin as you could feel his length awake from a light slumber.

“Why am I sensing that you’re not mad now?”

“Me,” You gasped, feigning ignorance as you finally pulled the flimsy material over your husband’s head, “I was never mad?”

“You weren’t?”

“No Mr. Bang,” you giggled, wrapping your hands around your husband’s neck once more, “Mad that you have been teasing me for almost 24 hours straight?”

Chan didn’t answer, instead sweeping your legs off the floor and into your arms, carrying your bridal style back down the said hallway, bedroom door conveniently already open as he laid you down on your back. A hum of happiness fell from your lips at the familiar feeling of your own bed sheets encompassing your back. You were brought out of those thoughts quickly however, your husband left you little to revel in bed texture, removing his sweats immediately before lifting you by the armpits again, leaving you to stand and him sitting on the edge of your shared mattress. The invitation of your barely dressed husband with a pressing erection straining his boxers was a very enticing seat. One that you took without a second thought as his hands were straight for your throat, a gentle squeeze as your lips connected first, legs cloaking his waist once more, the both of your tongues fighting for dominance over each other. Chan’s mouth vibrated as he relaxed into the sensual nature of the kiss, hands drifting away from your upper body and right to the outside of your thighs, a gentle tingle of fingertips dancing across your heated skin as you pulled away from a brief moment, wanting to match at least half of his body in the lack of clothing. Your husband helped as he withdrew his hands from your body for a brief moment, deciding to, rather than pull your nice shirt over your head like a normal person, he pulled the seams apart, splitting the shirt into two before using one hand only to unclasp your bra this time. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t impressed by it everytime.

“I liked that shirt,” you pouted, “did you have to rip it?” “I’m sorry y/n,” he chuckled, hands snaking up your sides another time, “I just want you so badly.”

There was no time to react as your husband gripped your hips, spinning you around and pinning you into the mattress. His second attack followed impeccably, hands fumbling on your jeans before getting them undone, panties groped in unison as they hit the side wall. That was an irrelevant detail, because Chan was lying on his front, abs rubbing against your core as he brought his hands back to your tits; his most favorite thing in the world. The man could not keep his hands still, mouth slobbering all over the sensitive skin as he began his second attack of the day on your nipples. 

“Never gets old,” you giggle, a gentle moan following after at the contrast of your flimsy mounds and rock hard nubs. Chan’s hands felt like no other, and when he had them on you, it was the time when you felt like the luckiest woman in the world. Your husband’s chuckles followed closely to yours. Seeing his wife happy was one thing, but knowing that he could make you feel this good aroused him to another level. His admiration deepend, yes, but it was somewhat of an ego boost for him. Knowing that he was that good with his fingers. 

Your husband’s lips, like his hands, began to wander, a strip of wet kisses trailing down the center of your stomach, causing him to crawl back further and further until his lips were just above your core. Chan brought his fingers right back to where he had them in the car, easily able to slip in two fingers without warning, a deep groan gritting his teeth at the way your back arched for him monumentally. The sight was one that he had been craving, one that you craved yourself. It did not matter how far apart you were from your husband, his appetite for you would never change. If he wanted to be close, he wanted to be close. If he wanted to be far, well that was just simply not plausible. As much as he wanted to pleasure you, make you feel good, like the diligent role of a husband should be, it was the closeness that motivated him every time. Chan longed for these moments, especially since the introduction of your daughter restricted the ability to do so. At any possible moment, Chan would demand to do whatever he could to profess his love, and it was always done with his mouth; his tongue to be more specific. 

In this scenario, rather than speaking with tongue, it was sticking out of your husband’s lips, flattening as he dived in head first without hesitation, your hands automatically rummaging through the thick mound of curls that supported the top of his head. His tongue was heaven, spreading your pussy lips farther and farther apart and he used that ferocious organ to fiercely suck on your wanting nub. A monstrous moan escaped your lips at the contact, a gratifying humm coming from his throat at the way you tugged on his locks. Your eyes were barely open, unable to prevent yourself letting your eyelids dance back and forth from open to shut, mesmerized at the current view you had when hunching your neck to see. Chan could see the way you were desperate to view his fulfilling prophecy that was going down on his wife, making sure to lay his chest flat on your bed, ejecting his fingers from your cunt and hooking each forearm around each leg, compressing them into the mattress, giving you the perfect perspective of the combination that was his lips and tongue simultaneously pleasuring your aching core. If this was going to be the result after pining for each other for around 12 hours only, you would never think about it twice. 

“I love being married,” you whined, another humorous hum escaping your husband’s lips, “tongue feels so good.”

“Mmmh,” he mumbled, half of his face muffled in your pussy, “you taste so good.”

“What was that?”

He took away his tongue for a brief moment, looking you deep in the eye before repeating his statement.

“You taste so good.”

He didn’t want to take much time away from making you, his wife, feel good, let alone waste his breath on 3 words. His tongue snaked across your inner thigh, the organ licking a gentle strip up each leg before descending back onto your gushing pussy. The smile on your face at his works was impossible to wipe off, your moans through the pearly whites getting louder and louder at the same time with your core, the accumulation of your slick and Chan’s oral fluids contributing to the squelching sound that was bringing you closer and closer to peak arousal. His lust was simply one of trance and dedication. It genuinely could not be explained enough how much he loved seeing you like this, knowing that he was the one that was doing so. Your lips contorted, unable to keep the smile as your bite down on the skin below your bottom lip, harsh enough to leave a line of marks before you were sitting up, hands leaving his hair and dominating his face, palms spread across either side before pressing a kiss to his lips. Your nose crinkled, easily identifying the taste of you on his tongue before giving him one last look, eyes completely open as you crawled backwards on your elbows, left index fingers curling in a come hither motion. The invitation was simply too divine to resist. Your husband turned into a predator, jumping on top of you like he had just caught his prey. His moves were delicate, making sure to not crush you underneath him. His lips were itching to be on yours again, and the feelings were returned, tongue automatically parting his lips and dipping inside his wanting mouth as his hands left your figure for a brief moment, slipping the thin material down his legs and over his feet, fingertips, like magnets to his wife’s skin, straight back onto you. Your own hands were now back on your husband's body, fingernails digging into the large mound of muscles that was his upper back as his fully erect length pressed against your heat. A moan slipped out of your mouth and straight into his, causing him to pull away.

“Fuck you really missed me, didn’t you?”

His smirk was fucking priceless. So annoying, but it would just be a flat out lie if you said you were not attracted to it in the slightest. Cocky did not look good on most people, but it 100% suited your husband. Your nails buried themselves deeper into his flesh at his statement, a poor attempt at humbling him in the slightest as another moan fell from your lips as he began slightly rocking back and forth, the tip of his pre-cum soaked tip hitting your extremely sensitive nub. You went to open your mouth, a failing endeavor of speaking a sentence when the only thing coming out being sounds of pleasure.

“Don’t tease me Mr. Bang,” you mumbled in between each groan, bucking your hips to create a larger friction between your two bodies. Chan was getting impatient himself, but god, did he love to tease you. Your husband had no trouble making you orgasm over and over, he just had displeasure in making you cum so quickly. Your body was sensitive solely to him, even after all these years, it didn’t take much to get you there. Therefore, teasing you made the process so much more enjoyable. Watching you squirm was something that he really enjoyed. 

“Hmm Mrs. Bang,” he hummed, lifting his hips off of yours, one hand now wrapped around the base of him, “you’re so cute when you’re all hot and bothered.”

Your eyes formed into a squint, annoyed at how easily he was pinning you down, “stop playing games and fuck me. Preferably today before they get home.”

“Oh fuck,” Chan chuckled, prodding at your pussy hole with his length, “you’re right, let me get to business.”

It was funny when previously mentioned that Chan left to tease and see you squirm, because once his length was comforted by the strength of your tight walls, your husband was a mess. He couldn't help it. Your pussy, after being with you for so many years, molded exactly to the shape and maneuvers that Chan needed. He tried to maintain a slow pace, allowing for your cunt to stretch perfectly around him, wanting you to feel every inch of him; but it simply was too irresistible to resist. Chan wrapped his hands around your ankles, lifting your limbs in the air and stretching them as far as they could go before kneeling on his knees as he began to flat out pound your busy. His pace was not as fast no, by the velocity of the thrusts was truly toe curling. Your jaw dropped to the floor if it could, the bedhead surely denting the walls at the arms as each time his hope made contact with your contact, a large noise resembling a slap occurred. Your husband was usually not as rough, but it’s not that you’re complaining at all. It was rare that he would just throw you around like this, usually if he was frustrated or that you had been away. So really, you should have seen this coming. Maybe it was what provoked you to reply to his lustful text in such a similar manner; whatever you have been doing it was right seeing as he was making your pussy cry with arousal. 

Chan’s teeth sunk into your left calf, a string of large huffs and puffs escaping from his chest as he put all his mighty effort into each thrust, your husband breathing heavy at the combination of his force and pleasure he got from fucking you like that. His eyes ogled however, at how easily your tits bounced back and forth.

“Fuck,” you shouted, “s-so rough.”

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, keeping your legs in the air as your pulled him by the neck, foreheads accidentally smashing foreheads together with a significant force, “you’re fucking me like you want to put another kid in me.”

“Maybe I do,” he grunted, pressing a kiss to your lips in between, “maybe I should put another kid in you.”

God the way he talks, especially like that, turns you on so much. Your hands now travel back to the familiar spot of his back, pulling his chest against yours as he picked up his pace, thrusts much smoother with rhythm as your eyes fluttered shut, head hitting the back of the pillow ad your husband relentlessly fucked your pussy. A deep breath blew from your lips, an insufficient try to maintain your composure as your husband refused to set a forgiving speed.

“Fuck your pussy,” he growled, unable to finish his sentence.

“Yeah baby?”

“Mine,” he huffed, his own eyes fluttering shut as he pinned your upper limbs next to your head, head dipping down back to your breasts, a ferociously lick on your left nipple before he continued, “Fuck I’ll fuck another fucking child into that fucking pussy if you want me to.” 

Chan became a menace when he reached his peak horniness, and during this timeline, that was right now. Anyone who met or knew Chan, as a well-respected friend, colleague, or even a stranger, knew that was one of the most polite people that you could possibly have the pleasure of meeting. Not one to swear, always use his manners and respect other people’s time and values. However, it was only you who got to see the truly feral side of him, like this, cursing his head off. It was only at this point did he forget that facade of a well-mannered gentleman. Chan was certainly not polite or gentlemen like when he fucked you, and it was a guilty pleasure of yours. It always aroused you to hear him say ‘fuck’, mumble a ‘motherfucker’ or ‘shit’ under his breath, even just in normal dialgoue. So when he said it during sex, it truly was one of the hottest fucking things your had ever seen. 

“Do it,” you mumbled, unable to use your full voice, “put a kid in me.”

“Really?”

His head snapped up immediately, lips moving back to your own, pecking you one more time, but with his eyebrows raised in surprise, “Are you being serious?”

“Yes,” you smiled, fingertips spreading across your husband’s cheeks, “you have my permission.”

“Oh fuck,” he grumbled, “you really shouldn’t have said that.”

Chan’s hands snuggled under your back, scooping you and placing you up right on him, cock still inside of you as he sat up himself, keeping you close to his torso as he scooched the end of the bed. He let out a groan as he stood up, hands trailing to your hips as began to bounce you. A new level of sound escaped your lips at the new angle he was hitting inside of your pussy. It was smart to keep your arms enclosed around his neck, head buried into his chest as he still managed to keep the same pace. You really didn’t know how much more of this you could handle; the pressure in your body was building. The pit of your stomach was making its way to your final high, and your muscles were tightening in conjunction. The room’s scent was full of sweat, but also passion. Sweet sweet passion and sweet sweet love filled the four nostrils in the room, bringing you even closer to the edge. 

“Chan?”

“Y/n, you okay baby?”

“I’m gonna cum baby,” you whined, “I'm gonna cum so hard.”

“Oh me fucking too baby,” he fritted through his jaw breaking teeth clench, “I’m about to blow so fucking hard.”

“Yeah?”

“All in this pussy,” he whined, placing you back down on the bed, “my pussy.”

“Mhm, all yours.”

Your husband kept your back arching off the edge of the bed, making sure that when let go of himself, that nothing but even a drop would drip out of your hole. His hips became erratic; you could tell that your husband would not last much longer. Not that you were far off either, but you know that the release of his seed would tip you over the edge. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, hard, “Y/n I’m so sorry I’m gonna cum first.”

“It’s ok,” you whined, “I need your seed inside of me so fucking badly.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you clenched, eyes dark with lust as he kept his gaze on you, “put a fucking kid in me.”

“I fucking love my fucking wife so much,” he spat, jaw falling agape as his load exploded, the ropes of your husband’s orgasm roping over and over inside of you, “I fucking love you so much.”

“Fuck Chan,” you screamed, your own orgasm washing over and sending you into a haze, “it feels so good inside of me.”

Your whine was so attractive to Chan that he leant down to kiss you one more time, before withdrawing his aching cock, falling to your side in a heavy breath. He was quick to get back into action, however, falling off the bed and grabbing your ankles again, lifting them off the floor and onto the bed, ensuring that not a lick of his load would fall out. A fat giggle escaped from your lips when you watched him do so.

“Fuck you were serious about that kid hey?”

He was already gone, annoyingly leaving you by himself. He was quick to come back however, returning with a glass of water and a banana from the kitchen bench, handing over to you without a second thought. Your lips turned into a smile automatically, practically chugging the water down to quench your thirst before peeling the banana open. Your husband took his spot next to you, lying on his side as he watched you with admiration. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious, hesitating before putting your lips anywhere near the fruit.

“I’m starting to think you got this fruit for a particular reason.”

“No,” he chuckled, “just eat it.”

You looked away from him as your lips ‘accidentally’ slipped down the banana, much past where necessary to take a bite. You could see your husband's jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye as your motion.

“What,” you mumbled, mouth full of food, “you were asking for it.”

“Fuck your lucky that your daughter is going to be home soon.”

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

Please, elaborate more on these Hazbin Hotel headcanons. I’m very interested in hearing about them.

I would like to preface all my posts on headcanons related to psychology and mental illness with a disclaimer: diagnosing mental conditions, especially personality disorders, can be extremely challenging. It's a complicated process that relies heavily on a psychologist's interpretation of facts, making it susceptible to biases. Personality disorders cannot be diagnosed based on surface-level observations and are not just labels that we can assign to people like in the case of MBTI. Additionally, I am not a clinician with any expertise in diagnosing people. Therefore, the following post should not be taken as a reliable professional opinion. It's simply my interpretation of the internal mechanisms that may be responsible for the behavior of certain characters in my fan fiction. Furthermore, I want to make it clear that I have no intention of stigmatizing people with personality disorders by associating them with villains. A personality disorder does not determine someone's character or make them a bad person. Some characters may be evil because of the choices they make, not as a result of their mental conditions.

Since you didn't ask about anything specific, I'll just give some headcanons on Vs since I think about them the most.

> Vs are not a polycule, it's VoxVal + Velvette because she would never touch any of these losers. What's more, Vox and Val are extremely sexist (I mean it's kinda canon, we heard how they speak about women) so if she had sex with any (or both) of them, she would no longer be one of the boys and become one of the bitches.

> Vox has NPD, Val has BPD, Vel has APD.

> Vox is continuously overstimulated because he's constantly connected to his web. That's why snaps so easily and sometimes goes through 5 stages of grief in 5 seconds. He could disconnect (and sometimes he does) but he's too much of a control freak to not lurk constantly.

> During his life on earth, Valentino had a terrible, toxic father. Very much machismo who abused him relentlessly for being queer. (Not that I want to make him sympathetic, I just think that evil people are often miserable before they become evil.) Because Val is very queer, not just "man occasionally fucking other men", he's always been loud and proud pansexual and gender non-conforming. He wasn't some kind of activist, very concerned about queer issues, he just refused to stay in the closet out of spite, and because it made men around him uncomfortable. He just enjoyed being perceived as a deviant. It was one of the things that eventually got him killed.

> Vox is like a hardcore sadist. He cuts people open just to feel powerful.

> During his life on Earth, Vox used to be extremely homophobic because his bisexuality was threatening to his masculinity. He's also the embodiment of toxic white masculinity from the 50's. He actually did some personal growth in Hell, eg. He gave up racism, homophobia, transphobia, and most other -phobias, and now he despites everyone rather equally. He just bullies women more because misogynistic violence is a low-hanging fruit.

> So with Velvette I had some fun because she manifested in Hell not so long ago and happened to be as powerful as other Vs, who had much more experience and souls collected. So I assumed she must be completely deranged. I came up with the idea that she used to be a toxic influencer who built a cult-like following around her. She weaponized it against multiple people, ruining lives, and manipulating kids into committing crimes or even suicides. Her methods are very fine, Vox and Val have nothing on her when it comes to cruelty.

> Velvette is not misogynistic per se but she despises weak women who can't fight for themselves. That's why other Vs behavior don't bother her, she doesn't feel threatened by their aggression.

> Angel Dust has BPD and an eating disorder. That's why he fell for Valentino so terribly, to trust him with his soul. He used to think that Valentino is the only person fucked up enough to truly love him as damaged as he'd been. (More hc about Val and Angel here). Actually Val has a very similar backstory to him - a queer, gender non-conforming man in a very masculine environment (I'm not sure how canonic is Angel working for the Italian Mafia at this point but I stick to it until proven otherwise).

Other headcanos about Vox and Val ❤️🩵

[angiethewitch]

So, I'm also mentally ill, and I really don't understand why you think it violates your personal rights for you to be held accountable for taking the medication that keeps you stable, safe, and functional.

Do you think you should be allowed to act inappropriately because of your illness? Do you think you should be allowed to possibly hurt yourself and others? Do you have delusions about the healthcare system or medication? Do you dislike being stable or lucid? Like, why do you think that it's okay to neglect your mental health conditions and make people around you feel concerned or scared for your safety? Do you think that people shouldn't take meds in general, or just you?

Personally I enjoy being stable and healthy and I don't understand why you want to put yourself and others through distress. It seems like internalized ableism mixed with self harm tbh. I hope you get better someday and learn to love yourself when you're stable instead of hiding in your psychosis and hurting yourself and others.

it's actually ableist to come and assume that I'm violent and unsafe simply because im schizophrenic. ive been off my antipsychotics for nearly 2 years now, under the supervision of my doctor and psychologist, I have no such delusions about the healthcare system - once again, it is ableist for you to say a schizophrenic MUST be delusional for not wanting to go on medication. it is ableist for you to assume I MUST be a danger to myself or others because I am schizophrenic. it is ableist of you to come in here and be so fucking condescending, explaining things to the obviously insane schizophrenic. it is ableist of you to say I MUST not be stable or lucid. it is ableist of you to say I MUST be acting inappropriately. bro im just in fucking work. it is ableist of you to say i MUST be neglecting my mental health when I'm not on medication when I thought it was widely understood that medication is not the only answer.

I am not in distress and I do not cause distress. you've completely misunderstood my stance, just because medication works for you does not mean it works for everyone. my stance is that it violates bodily autonomy to force medication down my throat or strap me down and inject me with medication I did not consent to taking. either you did not understand that or you don't care, and you think people with mental illnesses should be stripped of their autonomy.

absolutely nobody is scared for my safety. I was discharged from the psychosis intervention services with my psychologist saying he feels incredibly positive about my recovery. I am a supervisor in charge of a team of people in my work and im on my way to a management position. for the record, I may still have periods of instability, but therapy and learning healthy coping mechanisms has been far more helpful than 5 years of a medication that gave me amnesia. and the medication didn't even stop the symptoms, they just put me in a chemical straitjacket.

how dare you come in to my inbox and spew ableism and assume things about me. get off my blog.

[thepersonnamedsam]

first kiss - pg10

pairing: pierre gasly x fem!reader

summary: you were pierre’s girlfriend, but you never kissed

word count: 1k

warnings: some angst but mostly fluff, mentions of kissing (duh), age gap

note: sorry for the short absence, i’m in the middle of finals, yay… they are really, really exhausting, but i’m done with the written exams and i have a bit of a breather, so be excited, more to come

masterlist / taglist

You were shy, very shy. The kind of shy that probably counts as social anxiety if you’d ever talked to a psychologist. That’s why Pierre was your first boyfriend, ever. You were 21 but never had a boyfriend or a date.

Pierre was perfect for you. Always there, mature enough to realise you were not some kind of project. He knew you were shy and tried to make you as comfortable as possible. But there was just one thing; You were not great in voicing your feelings, like not at all. You agreed to everything Pierre asked you, even if it would involve something dangerous. But the one thing he has not asked you yet was, if he could kiss you. But you being you, didn’t ignite anything yourself, always waiting for him.

Pierre knew you, that’s why he didn’t want to frighten you and waited for you to make the first move. It’s just miscommunication, to put it simply. You were both waiting for each other, but not voicing it.

But you were insecure, dating such an important person and him not having kissed you yet? Your mind always rattled with thoughts. Playboy Pierre? Or better, was he ashamed of you? Why didn’t he kiss you yet?

Pierre was unaware of your desire and your feelings; feeling as good as ever in your relationship. His friends more than aware of your feelings, not understanding why Pierre hasn’t made a move yet. You had talked to Charles, knowing him since you were little. Naturally you had asked Charles if Pierre even liked you. But he insured you, that Pierre was head over heels for you, or smitten, as Charles had said. He also told you, to just ask him to kiss you; in a heated moment, when both of you would be comfortable with kissing.

You couldn’t do that. Just ask him to kiss you, who does that? Not you!

It was complicated. Actually it wasn’t, you were making it complicated, you both did. If you two would just talk, the whole thing would be solved, really.

When Pierre came home that evening, he saw you crouched down on the sofa, thinking hard. He could practically see the steam coming out your ears. He approached you, laid his hands on your shoulders and startet to massage them. You were tense.

You were frightened for a moment, not having heard Pierre come home, too deep in thought to notice. You sighed; it was just Pierre. It felt good to have him here, you wanted to kiss him, but didn’t.

He wanted to kiss you too, but refrained, scared he would startle you and led you to panic. He was overly cautious around you, not wanting to do something that would scare you.

„Mon cœur, would you like to go on a walk? You seem so tense and anxious, I want you to feel better?“ Pierre looked at you, hopeful you would accept his offer, only wanting what’s best for you. You nodded your head, knowing it would do you good.

You remembered what Charles had told you; just ask him! You closed your eyes, trying to muster all your courage, but you just couldn’t.

Milano was beautiful in the evening. It was spring, so temperatures weren’t that hot yet, but already warm enough to walk around with just a shirt. You still took your jacket with you, not wanting to be cold.

He took you by your hand, his thumb lightly stroking your hand. Deeply breathing in, you tried to ask him again.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the park. As you reached a quiet spot near a beautiful fountain, your heart raced in your chest. You could feel Pierre’s gaze on you, eyes locked in a tender connection.

„Pierre“, you sighed, „do you think, I mean, do you want“, you didn’t know what to say. „Take a deep breath, mon cœur.“

„Pierre, I want you to kiss me.“

The sounds of laughter and distant chatter faded into the background, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle murmur of flowing water.

With a shy smile, Pierre gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and comforting. Your breath hitched, pulse quickening. Was it finally time? Was he going to kiss you? His eyes searched yours, seeking permission and reassurance. You nodded, heart speaking volumes in that simple gesture.

Time seemed to slow down as Pierre leaned in, closing the remaining distance between you. His lips brushed against yours, feather-light and delicate, sending an electric shock through both of your bodies. It was a sweet, innocent kiss, filled with the promise of something more.

Your eyes fluttered shut, savoring the sensation. You could taste the hint of mint on Pierres breath, mingling with your own anticipation. Your lips moved in sync, tentative at first, then growing bolder with each passing second. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you lost in this beautiful moment.

A gentle breeze caressed your faces, as if nature itself celebrated your union. Your fingers intertwined with Pierre’s, your grip growing tighter, as if to anchor yourselves to reality. It felt as if your souls were merging, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

Reluctantly, you pulled apart, your breaths mingling in the cool evening air. Your eyes met, a mixture of awe, affection, and joy reflected in your gazes. It was a moment neither of you would ever forget, a tender and magical connection that drew you more together.

As you continued your walk, a soft blush tinged your cheeks, and a smile played on his lips. The world seemed brighter, more vibrant, as if your hearts had been painted with the colors of newfound love.

„I didn’t know you wanted to be kissed?“ He turned cocky, raising one of his eyebrows. You just looked at him and slapped his chest. „Of course I wanted to be kissed, why wouldn’t I?“

He laughed, relieved you finally had taken the next step. Also, he was proud of you, you took matters into your own hands. You knew of you told Charles how this happened, he would tell you: „Told you so!“

But, you were glad that he was right. If not, this wouldn’t have happened. Pierre was your first date, your first boyfriend and now your first kiss too.

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss

[rewritingcanon]

i’ve seen relationship therapists and psychologists analyse hermione and ron’s relationship and conclude that they wouldn’t work out in the long run. they’ve argued for hermione to be with harry, krum, even DRACO (don’t understand how a counsellor can vow for canon dramione but alright) as an alternative partner for hermione since ron is “too insecure” to be with her and match her intelligent prowess or what have you.

i seriously don’t understand this sentiment. ron and hermione genuinely seem (almost) perfect to me, maybe not in the movies (a common denominator of people who don’t like romione is that they always cite evidence from the movies, since the films took a lot away from ron’s character and his growth), but definitely in the books.

looking at ron’s insecurities, a lot of people dredge his inferiority complex up to toxic masculinity primarily, when it was more explored how it was an effect of his home life (not gonna argue toxic masculinity wasn’t a factor, they’re teenagers in the 90s written by a pretty misogynistic woman so…). he was the youngest son out of how many children? all of his older brothers were brilliant in some way. bill was an extremely gifted spellcaster, charlie was gifted with magical beasts, percy’s academic score was unmatched, and fred and george (despite their trouble) were entrepreneurial inventor-geniuses. ron, on the other hand, was quite literally born a disappointment to his mother, who conceived him specifically because she wanted a daughter, whilst ginny was born her favourite (though, even then, ginny was gifted at quidditch). ron was mediocre in every sense of the word, and his two best friends were harry (one of the most famous wizards) and hermione (the smartest witch of her age yada yada). and i’ve seen people argue that harry was more welcomed by molly into the weasley household than ron ever was. this isn’t even mentioning the amount of bullshit he copped for being poor (people always downplay the blow to confidence being in poverty can have on a person who is constantly surrounded by people who not only have more, but look down on him for simply being unlucky as to not have what they do).

so yeah, ron was an envious kid, but he was that way not because he was an evil patriarchal conception but because he was lowkey neglected. and even then he was overall an extremely devoted and loyal friend to both harry and hermione, because he did genuinely love them.

there were many moments of ron standing up for hermione that was cut from the films, not as a guy who was romantically interested in her, but as a friend. ron arguing with snape for making hermione cry is one of my fav scenes in the books ru kidding me, and in the movies he AGREED with snape RU KIDDING ME. not to mention how ron was a sobbing violent mess when hermione was getting tortured in the last book, whereas he wasn’t nearly as bothered in the films. and the films cut out harry being a dick to ron about his familial concerns (in dh), so when ron left it seemed like a random dickish move over his jealousy towards harry and hermione’s relationship.

there’s also a million moments where they minimised ron’s usefulness in the books for comedic purposes (forbidden forest with aragog, troll scene, devils snare scene) so ron seems dumber than he is. like, he’s actually smart and a really good spellcaster…. in the books.

so simply by stating this most of the arguments against romione become void. “he’s too stupid/weak for her” simply not true. “he’s a terrible friend who doesn’t stand up for her” also not true. “he’s too insecure to have made a move on her,” yes, but given the context i don’t think people would freak on about ron’s upbringing, i think many would be more understanding, especially considering his growth. even if he wasn’t insecure, hermione is beyond incredible and is bound to make anyone nervous when pursuing her (not an excuse for ron to act like a dick, but it does explain a lot where the movies don’t). “they argue too much” they bump heads, none of the arguments they have are actually super damning, with the exception of ron leaving in deathly hallows.

maybe i’ve covered everything (excluding the abhorrent amount of classism that clouds people’s judgments around how they view ron when harping about how hermione deserves better? hopefully).

now, i know people won’t like me mentioning the cursed child, but i’m going to considering we actually get an insight of their life as a longterm married couple there. a lot of ron stans hated how ron was the only character that wasn’t doing something incredible. harry was head of the aurors, ginny was a famous quidditch player retired to a famous journalist, neville was a hogwarts professor, hermione was quite literally minister on magic. and ron…. ran the joke shop with george.

and i think this was almost the perfect route to go down for ron. because he was average, and was perfectly fine with just being average. hello?? that speaks leagues of growth for his character. he’s supportive of hermione’s work, he grounds her when she gets too caught up in being the literal president of wizarding society, and he still viciously defends her, minister or not. in fact, he’s proud to simply be known as hermione’s husband because he doesn’t feel the need to prove to anyone else his worth. the people he loves most know his worth, hermione never downplays or underestimates him, they are complete equals in the relationship in every single way that matters. they kept ron’s best qualities whilst making him seem more of a healed person. they work so well as a married couple without it seeming like mischaracterisation (not to mention the cursed child literally shows how those two are in love in every reality, so there quite literally can’t be a better partner for hermione or ron according to canon).

so i really don’t understand how professional relationship counsellors can go online and denounce it. probs because they only watched the movies, but it’s 2023 and ron stans should not STILL be fighting for their lives trying to defend him from people who simply don’t consume media with as much depth (which is fine, but one should clarify if they’re talking about the movies because i’ve seen people state they’re talking about the hp BOOKS when it’s simply just…. the films). anyways. romione on top, thanks to coming to my ted talk.

[alexaloraetheris]

I juat remembered the day, about two months ago, when I went to renew my perscription and ended up derailed by some kind of divine influence that really, really wanted my help. 😂

So I have an appointment at 9. First thing I do is sleep in because my alarm simply did not ring. First time that happened. I cursed out the damn phone and ordered a taxi, which I had specifically hoping to avoid because of the traffic congestion.

My driver is a woman a bit older than me, and she's in a good mood so we chat. She told me she was thinking of moving to [city on the coast] because taxi drivers are paid better there, and I tell her I have family there, we comment on what it's like to drive in a city essentially built into three hills and a cliff. She mentiones she has scoliosis, and it sometimes impacts her ability to sit in a car for long periods of time. I had scoliosis as well, but I had managed to fix it with exercises almost completely so I recommended my physical therapist, and assured her it's not too late, because some of the people in my therapy group were even older than her. When she let me off she thanked me for the help.

Feeling good that, even if I had to pay out the nose for the ride, I got there in time and even managed to do a good deed. I rush in, tell the reception guy I'm here to see my doctor and settle in to wait.

Two hours later, I see people being called in but not my name. I ask why, and doctor looks at me blankly and says I'm not in the system. I have to tell the reception I've arrived so I show up on his schedule.

I'm mentally cursing out the entire hospital, but I wasn't raised by wolves. I thank the doctor, politely tell the different receptionist that the last guy probably didn't hear me when I told him my appointment, got added in and went back to wait.

Ten minutes later, a visibly nervous girl with freshly printed papers sits in the waiting room. I'm in a bit of a mood, but I'm also a firm believer in helping if I can. I paste on a smile and ask 'First time?' and she admits she just got sent here for a potential ADHD diagnosis and she had no idea what to do. Having been there and knowing exactly how hard it was to do it on your own, I gave her the number of the psychologist who made my diagnosis, assured her that the psychiatrist she was here to see is the same one I have and that he's a good guy, explained what ADHD actually was and how the meds work. She was neraly crying with relief by the time I was done, and I promised she could send me questions if she needs to.

I finally, finally go in for my appointment in a slightly better mood, only for my psychiatrist to tell me Concerta is no longer imported, I have to go on some other meds and for that I need my family doctor to sign off on a regular perscription instead of getting an Rx perscription from him.

This is the worst case scenario, because I do NOT want my mother, who thinks ADHD was invented by quack American psychologists to sell expensive meds to parents with unruly children, to know I have ADHD. So I mentally curse out the entire healthcare system, go to the family doctor and explain the situation, that my mother absolutely CANNOT know about my diagnosis. Even though the doctor was not aware of my diagnosis so far, she listens attentively, and we make sure that my mom can't check the insurance we're both under to see what meds I'm on or that if she checks my name in the pharmacy directory she can't see me either.

I thought I handled that situation rather well but I must have looked more worried than I thought, because the doctor admitted her high-school age granddaughter had been asking questions about psychologists and antidepressants and she had so far been dismissive. But if she really needs help, she might do the same thing I did and seek help on her own, and my doctor realized she ought to either change her attitude fast or be left in the dark while her granddaughter is struggling. So I told her which psychologist I went to when I was also a depressed high schooler and how it helped and what I would have wanted my family to keep in mind. She thanks me and hands me a new perscription and sends me on my way.

So by now I am starting to notice a pattern.

Now, I'm actually an atheist, and I have 'Culturally Catholic' as a flaw and a laundry list of Stuff(TM) I have had to unlearn, but sometimes I really wonder if Someone Up There looked at me that day and thought:

"Hmm, looks like I have three problems I can solve with one well-positioned dumbass. Time to ruin her day for the good of the world!"

I mean. Happy to help but I really hope ruining my day won't be necessary next time.

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 10- keep me from my grave

"Well, don't sing me praise. Just keep me from my grave." -Me Against the Devil by The Relentless

Main Masterlist Regent Series Part 9

They met at a bookstore. 

It had been almost two full months since the Joker had met his end, his head mounted and strangely not decomposed, with Jason returned to the Batfamily Gotham had settled into a lull. Not a quiet one, but a lull nonetheless. 

Jason was taking a break from sorting through cases with Dick, head throbbing from the lack of sleep and patience for annoying siblings wearing thin. 

The bookstore, tucked away in a quiet part of Old Gotham, was often empty of people during the day. Despite its large bay windows, comfy seating and welcoming atmosphere, the Page-Turner would remain a hidden gem to the city dwellers. For Jason, it was a haven he could never feel bad about keeping to himself. 

He’d branched out from classics some time ago, deciding to try other genres he’d long since ignored for the Bard, meandering around the shelves to find a title that caught his eye. 

It was between the mysteries and thrillers that he found her. 

Her. 

She was sitting on the ground with her back pressed against the thriller shelves, slender jean-clad legs tucked towards her chest to cradle a book, eyes never straying from the pages, red hair tied into a low ponytail with what looked like a small braid tucked behind one ear. Jason couldn’t tear his eyes away from her soft features, desperately wanting her eyes to meet his, her lips to offer him a smile and her hands to cradle his own.

 For the first time in his life, Jason finally understood what the regency novels meant by love at first sight… because the man was halfway there already. 

The Page Turner was a haven admist the chaos that was Jazz’s life, especially once she finally admitted to herself and Danny that she needed help to manage her depression. Her little brother was concerned, but also relieved when she confronted the elephant in the room first. He’d been weary of bringing it up himself, not wanting to worry her more. 

(Silly brother.)

(It was her job to worry.)

Nonetheless, Jazz asked around among the living and dead for a therapist recommendation, which she was correct about it being difficult in Gotham, but Jazz didn’t want to branch out just yet. A toss up between disbelief and enthusiasm awaited her, but she didn’t let it deter her from contacting the recommended psychologist- Harleen Quinzel. 

A bit awkward to be in a session with the reformed rogue, dutifully ignoring whatever lingering shades wanted her attention. Harley was a great listener, more importantly she cared about Jazz as a patient, as a human being. Whatever Bozo the Clown had done to her, what she had survived, had given Harley a new lease on life with his death (ironically). 

“It sounds like ya never been allowed to simply be, Jazz.” Harley spoke plainly and evenly, her brooklyn accent barely clipping her words. The redhead had spoken of her childhood, her brother’s death, the neglect.

Opened up about the nightmares, how Danny’s destroyed grave haunted her. Let the truth spill from her lips, free to simply exist in the space between the two women. Sure, Jazz would never spill secrets about the Realms, but where it concerned her guilt, or lack thereof, about the blood on her hands- yes, Jazz knew Harley wouldn’t judge her. 

And it was true, Jazz had no childhood. She was Danny’s caretaker, his first memory, his first steps towards, the first to have his back. There had never been just Jazz, only Jazz and Danny. Every dream she’d once had, broken and scattered in the ashes of Danny’s grave. 

(Danny had no hope of reaching the stars, of being an astronaut, with his death.)

“Sweetie, Danny sounds like he is capable of taking care of himself for a while. Have you considered finding a hobby?” Harley questioned, sincere in her wish to help. 

Jazz sighed, “I wouldn’t know where to begin.” What did she have outside her little brother and work as Regency? 

“Do ya like to read?” 

Jazz huffed, finding amusement with that question. Of course she liked, no, loved to read. It had been her one escape from the nightmares so long ago, but she hadn’t found the time since taking regency to lose herself in a good book. 

Harley didn’t need her to respond, offering a sincere smile in response to Jazz’s lack of reply. 

“There’s a bookstore in Old Gotham, the Page Turner, ya could check out? There’s no pressure to pick up a book, but it would be enough to just get through the door, yeah?” 

“I’ll try.” 

“That’s a good start.” 

As it was, Jazz wasn’t able to find time between Realms Work and patrol to do anything other than sleeping, eating, and various other tasks that filled her days (and nights). The more it itched at her, to listen to the therapist she liked, the more Jazz wanted to read a book. To get lost in a good story, just like she used to. 

Patrols were harder with Hood back, his haunt under his command once more and streets protected by a vigilante in red. Only twice in the few weeks since Jason had been moved from her side to the batcave had the Regent caught a glimpse of him, both as his nighttime persona, and from a distance Jazz hadn’t been able to sense him as clearly as previous. He did seem healthier with the pure ecto and his Proto-Core, though Jazz was in no mood to test her luck by crossing into his Haunt. 

The girls were sad to see the Regent less, even though Jazz remained firmly in the Phantom haunt and was barely a few minutes away at any given time, but it was the principle of the thing. The Regent was one of the good ones and a woman at that. A woman who could kick ass wasn’t rare, but it was rare that they would take up a vigilante role for the occupants of the Alley. 

Red Hood, while awesome and respected by his people, was a man. 

Some of the girls were gradually drifting into the Phantom haunt, or a shitty part of Old Gotham that bordered on the Alley. Regardless of it’s quality it belonged to the Phantom Fraid… and Phantom was a Protector Spirit. 

(With the Regent and the Phantom, crime was all but extinct in their haunt.)

With the decrease in crime, Jazz was finally able to dematrilize her armor, set down her sword and enter the Page Turner. 

A distinct mix of old books, ink, and some kind of body spray welcomed the redhead once she stepped inside, intrigued by the sense of calm that greeted her in place of a human. 

Which was fine, Jazz preferred to browse in peace. 

Grateful for the shelves being categorized, Jazz found herself enthralled by a thriller (They Never Learn by Layne Fargo) and didn’t notice another person in the aisle until they were within arm’s reach. 

Jazz flinched back, embarrassed by her lack of focus and attention to her surroundings, dangerous when one is a vigilante in Gotham. She greeted the man in front of her after a few moments of awkward silence, his stare making the redhead even more embarrassed, but now by her appearance. She'd been too tired to fuss with her hair or clothes beyond ensuring the orange-red strands were brushed into a semblance of order and her clothes were somewhat decent. 

(Jazz was more concerned with her bracelets being concealed under glamour and sleeves.)

(The metal, eternally cool against her warm skin, offered some comfort in times like these.)

(She was the Lady of the Acropolis, once student of Pandora, the Ancient of Peace.) 

(There is nothing that can make her feel lesser without her consent.) 

“Uh, hi.” 

(Oh how eloquent, Jasmine.) 

“Hi.” The deep voice, smooth and accented like a native Gotham, made Jazz finally move her gaze from his chest- nice chest as it was, it was his eyes that made her breath rush from her lungs. 

Jason. 

.....Jason!

(Oh yes, Jazz picked a good day to walk into the Page Turner.) 

(She was finally able to talk to her dream man.)

(She wasn’t disappointed.) 

(And by the smiles they had as walked away, neither was Jason.) 

A/N:

This isn't the best, I know. Hey, they finally meet! Keep an eye for the updated masterlist, because I'll be putting the link up and changing some of the chapter titles. Thanks for reading!

Update: “They Never Learn” by Layne Fargo is an actual book, with a female Anti-Hero who kills bad men. I don’t want to say more because I’ll spoil something, but it’s a great book.

[cacoetheswriting]

for reasons known

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2k warnings: 18+ !! minors dni: pure smut although pretty soft and fluffy, oral (female receiving), safe / protected sex, light praise kink, dirty talk, use of pet names, (pretty girl, baby), adult language, a lil self-doubt at the start - pls let me know if i missed anything! also, this is borderline unedited... summary: eddie has fallen head over heels, and he will show you just how much he adores everything about you.

a/n: happy smutty tuesday!! this is technically a part two to this little fic, but can definitely be read as a smutty stand alone. enjoy!

-

Eddie Munson did not consider himself a lucky guy. 

On the contrary, oftentimes throughout his life he referred to himself as the ‘unluckiest son of a bitch on the planet’. Which is why, from a very young age, Eddie was a firm believer in creating his own luck.

Although, even as a kid he was quite self-aware, and he knew that luck did not equate happiness.

A person could not simply make themselves happy just because they wanted to. Like seriously, if that was something people could do, thousands upon thousands of psychologists and psychiatrists alike would be out of work.

Therefore, also from a very young age, Eddie figured happiness was a virtue not available to people like him.

And the curly haired boy carried that belief around until you strutted into his life and slapped him with it — metaphorically speaking.

Jesus Christ, those first couple of months after Eddie came to terms with how he truly felt about you were nothing short of fucking perfect.

Sure, he still had days when his big stupid brain would not offer a moment of peace and he found himself over thinking every single little thing. But you could read him like a book and were always more than willing to listen to his doubts before quickly squashing them with a simple: ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ or ‘No one’s ever made me feel the way you do, Eddie Munson’.

It was scary, how much you knew him. It was also scary how much he fucking adored you.

Yet, despite the fear, the metalhead promised he would show you just how much for as long as you would have him, (which he often hoped would be forever).

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

The statement causes you to adjust your position slightly, and still resting on his chest, you lift your head to meet his gaze.

“You were looking at the back of my head, Eds.”

He chuckles lightly at your reply. “Well, the back of your head is beautiful, baby,” Eddie affirms, “Honestly, just all of you. I swear on my life.”

He crosses his heart and you lean in and peck him on the lips, smiling sweetly at his words.

“Don’t you think swearing on your life is a tad dramatic?” 

Eddie’s hand gently closes around your jaw in response. Without saying anything, he’s pulling you in for another kiss. He then kisses your nose, your eyes, each of your cheeks, and your forehead. Using his free hand, he proceeds to move your hair aside and kisses your ears, then down your neck, before kissing you back on the mouth.

“All of you,” Eddie repeats in a mere whisper and his lips brush against yours again, only this time with a little more fervor. 

One hand is still cupping your face, while the other reaches for your arm. He trails his fingertips brushing against your skin, downwards, until he reaches your waist and lifts the hem of your tank top just a little bit. 

Lips still locked together, you shiver under his touch. Or rather the cool of his metal rings.

Slowly, Eddie slid the shirt up, exposing your stomach, and further still until he reached the bottom of your bra. He pulls back for a brief second, as if to ask whether it was okay to keep going. Your heart flutters because he’s always so fucking respectful and answer his unspoken question by sitting up in your spot to pull the tank top over your head before tossing it aside.

Laying back, you grab Eddie by the hem of his vintage t-shirt and pull him in towards you once more. He takes a second, admiring the view, and leans down to kiss along your jawline as his hands rub over your breasts. It doesn't take long for your nipples to perk up through her bra and Eddie’s caress becomes rougher at that very moment. 

Eddie can hear you sighing quietly as he works his lips, and his tongue, along your collarbone. He teases you a little by venturing southward then right back up and you whine underneath him, causing his dick to twitch inside his jeans. Fuck. He couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to feel your nipples stiffen in his mouth. 

He unclasps your bra and removes it with ease before once again taking a second to take all of you in. 

“So fucking beautiful,” Eddie whispers and presses his forhead to yours as his eyes go dark, “My pretty girl.”

Heat rushes to your face at the moniker and an all too familiar ache grows between your legs. Eddie notices the reaction, like he always did, and without saying anything else he ventures his mouth to the soft tissue of your breasts. You arch your back on instinct, just as Eddie leads his lips down between your tits, then around the cup, finally swirling his tongue around your right nipple. 

Eddie smiles against your skin. He bites it gently, flicking his wet tongue on the peak and you squirm underneath him with delight. This is heaven. You were quite sure of it.

One of Eddie's strong hands is now holding onto your side, fingers digging into your waist, while the other circles around your neck, thumb caressing your soft skin. Eddie’s hot mouth swiftly moves across your chest to take the left nipple between his lips, nibbling it till it is as red as the right.

“Eddie…” you moan and he groans against your skin because Jesus Christ, the way his name falls off your lips is intoxicating. He can feel himself get harder.

Pausing, Eddie sits up and hastily removes his shirt, throwing it aside with very little care. He looks down at you, a hungry smile tugging at his lips. Fucking perfect.

And so he’s leaning back down, kissing your lips again. He continues to your cheeks and jawline, then slowly and softly down your neck.

He again guides his mouth southward, between your tits, to your stomach. His hands slide further, then up your cheer skirt and he gives your ass a vigorous squeeze. You moan his name again and he slips his pointing fingers under the elastic of your panties, pulling them down.

The air hitches in your throat, the room grows hotter. Eddie’s hand hovers over your pussy and you want to scream. He’s teasing.

“Baby—”

“Shh…” Eddie hushes, gently covering your mouth with his other hand while glancing at your face, “Can my pretty girl be quiet?”

You nod obediently and he removes his hand, smirking.

The hungry look in his eyes remains as he shifts to the floor, pulling your legs along and positioning your feet on the edge of the bed, causing your underwear to fall like a feather.

Eddie takes a moment to soak it all in —  you, almost naked, writhing under his touch.

He wraps his arms beneath your knees and holding you firmly in place, he begins to alternate kisses along your inner thighs. You can sense his embrace coming closer and closer, and you begin to shake, dying for his mouth to make contact, for for his tongue to enter you. For him to enter you. 

Just when you’re about to do the one thing he asked you not to, (make a sound), Eddie’s lips meet your opening. His tongue parts your flaps and he begins to lick slowly, up and down, round and round.

You’re chewing on the inside of your cheek, yearning for more, and Eddie answers your unspoken plea by sliding his long tongue inside of you.

Oh fuck, this was his heaven because you taste so good. 

He moves his tongue around the tight space like it's a ballroom dance and you tangle your fingers in his brown locks, tugging at them lightly. 

Then it happens. He meets your clit. 

Now, you can hardly contain yourself. No, you can’t contain yourself, panting as Eddie sucks the little nub between your lips. He caresses it gently with his tongue, you begin to pant harder, you begin to moan. And when his name escapes you — “Eddie…” — he increases his speed.

You arch your back. Tense. Legs squeezing around his head. 

He slips his right shoulder out from under your leg and reaches up, grabbing your right tit. He pinches your nippee before grabbing your breast in his hand, while still licking your slit, continuously paying extra special attention to your clit.

“Eddie,” you gasp, almost breathlessly.

The metalhead knows exactly what that means. Head between your thighs, he continues eagerly like a man on a mission, until you release, shaking. At that moment, as he smacks lips together, drinking in your sweet juices, his cock is filled with so much desire that he can no longer contain it.

Giving you a second to recover, he stands to unzip his jeans. The material falls to the ground while Eddie reaches for the box of condoms on his bedside table. With a steady hand, he tears open one packet and pulls out the sticky rubber. He unrolls it onto himself and hovers over you.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters lovingly, repeating the statement that started all of this, before slanting his lips over yours in a fervent kiss.

You can sense Eddie position himself, his manhood caressing the outside of your sex, teasing. He is always fucking teasing.

But you don’t say anything because his mouth is glued to yours, tongue breaching through, locking together.

His cock clenches and slowly, he pushes the tip in. Holy Shit. You grip the pillows in your fist as he begins to move, barely in, then out, shoving in slightly deeper with each motion. He breaks the kiss and raises his head to stare into your eyes as he makes his final push, fully penetrating. 

Eddie could feel each exact detail of the muscles wrapping his cock inside of you as he rocked his hips. His eyes stay directly staring into yours. His lips display a slight, gleeful smile which you can’t help but return.

You lift your arms, placing your hands on the sides of his stomach, feeling each sway of his body meeting yours. You slide your hands, up and down, to the side and over his ribs, then lightly scratch his back with your fingernails.  

With each thrust, your scratches become more passionate, deeper, aggressive. Eddie groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head, because of the pleasure your nails provide and increases his speed, rocking harder between your thighs.

He leans down to kiss you again. It’s wet and sloppy, and he quickly moves his hot mouth to your cheek, then upward where he lightly nibbles on your ear, and then down the side of your neck.

Your chest rises and falls against him. Both of your breathing grows more incoherent, as your body surges to meet Eddie’s every motion. He continues to rock faster. His member pulsing in and out of you, back and forth, too and from, till both your bodies begin to tense up. 

Nails gripping deeply into his back, you moan heavenly into his ear and arch your back. 

“Eds, fuck…”

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” he groans in response, “Cum, baby.”

It’s an order you are happy to oblige.

Your walls clench around his cock and you peak, panting heavily as you release. You ride the high of your orgasm, muscles pulsing around his throbbing member, and Eddie becomes too excited to continue, exploding inside of you mere seconds later.

The swaying slows, your breathing calms.

Eddie slips his cock out and falls next to you. He removes the condom and ties it swiftly before throwing it into the small bin next to his bed. Exhaling, he then proceeds to lift his hand up to gently grab your chin, turning your face toward him.

“That was amazing,” you declare, the tone of your voice is soft and makes his heart flutter.

Eddie nods in agreement and leans over to brush his lips over yours. As you return the kiss, you put your hands on his shoulders to pull him closer, because, well, why stop a good thing?

-

main masterlist | add yourself to a taglist

[kneelingshadowsalome]

This is my third time in your inbox, I'm so sorry 💀💀

Can we get more insight on Konigs childhood? You mentioned abuse from his father. What exactly did he do to Konig and his mother? Why did he cut his face up? Why did his mother not leave him? Where are his parents now? Was his childhood the reason he joined the military? Will he fully open up to the reader abt it?

Ty for tolerating me 😭🙏🏾

Please. My inbox is always, always open and I love these questions! (Like... someone wants to hear my ramblings about mentally unstable, fictional men?? You are godsend, my friend 💖)

Thoughts on König's childhood:

CW/TW: emotional, verbal & physical abuse, talk of personality disorders (by someone who is not a psychologist lmao), aggravated assault/murder, self-hate

So, I wrote König as a sociopath (otherwise known as antisocial personality disorder) with borderline pd. He's also neurodivergent (prob. ADHD). Now I don't know shit about these things but I tried my best to do some research on different pds and neurodiversity and thought this potpourri might fit well in König's character profile.

Unlike psychopaths, sociopaths are made, not born. So his dad had a definite hand in creating one out of König. He thought his only son (K is an only child in my canon) was a freak because he was bigger than "normal" kids, tall and lithe and on top of everything else, behaved oddly. König was bullied at school which made him even more asocial and anxious, which in turn made his dad project his own insecurities onto König even more. He needed to imprint it on König that he's a freak by cutting him.

There was a strict routine and order in his childhood home: dinner was to be served at 6'o clock sharp, every piece of clothing had to be pedantically ironed, no tv past seven, etc. Any misstep on these rules and there would be violence, mainly verbal and emotional but at times, physical too. König's mother was never enough, nothing she did was ever enough. König for sure did everything wrong by simply existing. For a boy of his size, he learned to become surprisingly invisible at a very young age.

Sometime during his teenage years, he started to have enough. He started to rebel, learned how to walk tall and straight, started to jog and train inside his room, do 100 pushups every morning. The idea of joining the army was born during these times as well, and becoming a sniper was soon König's biggest dream.

He enjoyed when his schoolmates, even some of the teachers, began to fear him (if you cannot be loved, better be feared than ridiculed). He was the odd, silent, big freak who was only getting odder, bigger and more silent every day. People at school literally feared the day König would arrive at class with a gun.

His father started to cut him even more when he began to show signs of independence and grit. At some point König realized he could easily beat his own dad if he wanted to. At 15 he started to go to the gym, and a year after, when he saw his father yell at his mom about something utterly insignificant, he finally snapped, took a simple kitchen knife and drove it to daddy's ribs (16 times).

His mother had a tiny mental breakdown after that. She didn't want her child to get into trouble, but seeing such a violent murder was the last straw for a woman who had tried to keep the peace by playing by this crazy tyrant's rules. The reason she hadn't left was because she feared he might kill them both. (Also the breakdown was far more severe than the one reader had after the break room incident, and it def. brought back some not so fond memories)

König got the minimum penalty for the crime because he was a juvenile offender. His mother forgave her child quite soon and deemed that her husband was evil and that König did the right thing for freeing them from such a man.

Things got better after that, but his mother was forever damaged from everything that had happened. She began to blame herself for not divorcing her husband sooner, for then he would still be alive and König wouldn't have suffered so much in his hands. One of the reasons König started to wear the hood was because he didn't want to remind his mother of what had been done to him. Instead, the mask only caused her only more pain. She started to avoid her own child, even fear him, feeding into König's insecurities and anxiety even more.

When König finally joined the army at the age of 17, it was to get away from home and pursue his dreams to become a sniper. He thought it might be best for his mother, too, if he wasn't around the house to remind her what had gone down and how her only child was not only a monster, but a murderer, too.

König's childhood is so filled with trauma that he has pretty much distanced himself from it. The geographical distance helps too, and he's not keen on taking reader on a vacation to Austria, for example. But he will open up about his past if and when he sees it's safe to do so. Sadly enough, the thing that bugs him the most about it is he fears he might look weak in reader's eyes. He's been in a survival mode for so long that he doesn't quite understand that he was a child at the time, and should've received love and care.

Btw I totally got inspired by @random-thot-generator 's gospel truth on how König's first kill was his own father! Also the Conan t-shirt as his (first) mask is my canon now

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

Do you think Valentino from Hazbin is a sociopath?

I would like to preface all my posts on headcanons related to psychology and mental illness with a disclaimer: diagnosing mental conditions, especially personality disorders, can be extremely challenging. It's a complicated process that relies heavily on a psychologist's interpretation of facts, making it susceptible to biases. Personality disorders cannot be diagnosed based on surface-level observations and are not just labels that we can assign to people like in the case of MBTI. Additionally, I am not a clinician with any expertise in diagnosing people. Therefore, the following post should not be taken as a reliable professional opinion. It's simply my interpretation of the internal mechanisms that may be responsible for the behavior of certain characters in my fan fiction. Furthermore, I want to make it clear that I have no intention of stigmatizing people with personality disorders by associating them with villains. A personality disorder does not determine someone's character or make them a bad person. Some characters may be evil because of the choices they make, not as a result of their mental conditions.

I don't think he has an antisocial personality disorder. I can categorize him as a man with borderline personality disorder with antisocial tendencies (generally men with BPD are quite likely to exhibit APD traits).

Why do I interpret his behavior as BPD:

❤️ mood swings and incoherent personality. Like he's a completely different person with Vox and with Angel. Duh, even during his one scene with Vox his whole attitude did 180° in seconds.

❤️ hardcore abandonment issues. It makes him act out to get Vox's attention. And he hates Angel so much not because of pure sadism, but because he used to love him (well, at least he interpreted his feelings as love). As he became more and more toxic and after Angel finally tried to stand up for himself, Valentino felt so terribly rejected and betrayed that he immediately started hating him.

❤️ there's this thing called splitting and it means that people with BPD perceive others very binary, as either good or bad. There's nothing between love and hate and those emotions can change rapidly. So yeah imo he occasionally "loves" Angel and that's why he hasn't killed him yet but at the same time he proceeds to abuse him so terribly (I can't buy the "you make me money" excuse, no amount of money would matter if he really wanted to kill him. And I don't believe he keeps him alive just to torture him, Angel's behavior causes him too much stress. Like, he cares so much.).

❤️ Things common for men with BPD are substance abuse (overlord of drugs, duh), aggressive behaviors, and violent tendencies (I don't think I need to provide you with an example)

❤️ General high novelty seeking. It essentially means looking for stimuli to feel anything and just fill horrifying emotional emptiness (in the case of BPD; novelty-seeking is also a trait of perfectly healthy people that differs individually). I connect this novelty-seeking thing to him being an overlord of depravity, he loves perversion for the sake of perversion because everything extreme he does or witnesses makes him feel things again. And he bores very quickly so he has to constantly push boundaries further.

❤️ Autodestructive tendencies. We don't see them in the text, I just assume they are there. Again - drugs, unsafe sex, and (according to my headcanons) involvement in violent and irresponsible "BDSM" (I put it in a quotation because BDSM to be BDSM must be safe and based on informed consent, trust and good communication) which is essentially using Vox' sadism to inflict harm on himself. He rather do it using someone else's hands because he perceives this desire to self-harm as a weakness but at the same time, can't resist it.

Vox hc | Velvette hc | Vees + Angel hc

[meowzilla93]

Fancy meeting you here! Baxter in the five years after Step 4 please!!!

We both love this man to bits and pieces, but we are also realistic

This is a jumble of my thoughts put to paper, it may not be in order but it still all matters!

ALERT: I had so much to say I needed to split this into two posts cause i maxed the character limit......

Long distance relationships are hard work, no one said this was going to be easy

The two of you are making sure to keep up that hard work, keeping up the contact, looking after each other even with the many miles between you, and supporting each other

Thing is, Baxter only has two modes – 0 or 100.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he would text you multiple times a day when you first left, because this man really did

Asking about your day, hoping you are doing well, sending confidence boosting messages, the works

If this is something you love then its all fine!

But if this is a bit much for you, or your work really cant have you being distracted multiple times day, a chat will be needed

He understands, he is a little bashful that his actioned cause this convo but he understands

Idiot he is though, pulls back a touch too much and ends up messaging maybe once a day or once ever few days

You are going to need to teach him what it means to run at 50

And over time he will understand, he just needs that patience and understanding and OPEN COMMUNICATION!!!

You alternate visits with each other, trying to do it as often as work is possible but sometimes work does get in the way and it can be months before you see each other face to face again

You are REQUIRED to be prepared to be wrapped up in a Baxter Burrito TM as soon as he sees you and you are not going anywhere for the next 24-48 business hours

I have said it before, this mans love language is physical touch, and he is clingy

He almost puts Cove to shame with how clingy he is

Being together makes him realise a lot of things about himself, and that he needs to work on some trauma that he has from his childhood, and with your support starts seeing a psychologist

The changes are slow but steady; He might not realise it himself at first, but with the activities that the psychologist recommend he do, and learning how to channel his emotions correctly, you certainly do

And you couldn’t be more proud of him! Make sure you let him know!

He is the one to drop the ‘I love you’ bomb first

It just happened, he wasn’t thinking about anything specific, it wasn’t planned

He is simply cuddled up to you, on the couch talking nonsense with a glass of wine each

You had just finished laughing at one of his ridiculous stories, and he was just staring at you as you did with hearts in his eyes

As you wipe the tears from your eyes from laughter, he moves in close, kisses your temple and with a hum, just says those three little words

He doesn’t realise it at first; You froze and slowly turned to look at him

Suddenly the gears click and WHOOF he goes bright red

But he doesn’t take it back, he just looks anywhere else but you, unable to deal with what he did, but refusing to deny it

Please put him out of his misery and say it back, or kiss his first to relax him a touch and then say it

Those dimples of his have never looked sweeter than in that moment

Its been a year, and he really wants to see you more, but you both live so far away from each other

You both have careers in your cities and he refuses to pull you away from your success

Because of this, he is very hesitant to ask you to move in with him, or even vice versa

6 months down the track, you are at his apartment again but it’s the final night you are with him

He is in such a state, its winter, he doesn’t want to let you go home and knows it’ll be a probably a few months before he sees you again because he worries about travelling conditions and wants you to be safe

As you are cuddling in bed, he holds you with such a firm grip, like he is so afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go

Whilst in that Baxter Burrito TM, he whispers gently into your shoulder “Please stay…”

He thinks it was quiet enough that you wont hear, or that you’ve fallen asleep

But you heard it

Gently you turn around, he thinks you are just getting comfortable and you look him in the eyes

MC “Ask me Baxter.”

Baxter “What?”

MC “Ask me.”

You can see all the emotions run a race in his eyes as he realises that you are asking of him

Cupping your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb he asks again, without whispering

“Stay with me.”

“Next time, I will stay.”

Elated is a far too gentle word to explain his emotion but you can guarantee he is over the moon with joy

It takes time to organise the move, after all you both had your own separate lives and now you need to figure out how to merge the two together, but you make it work

Moving jobs is also something that needs to be considered, but if you work remotely, it doesn’t even really matter

It takes around 4-6 months to sort out the move with all the moving pieces, but you two are finally together, for good

Baxter loves to dance, and having you around more means he gets to indulge in his love two fold and tries to do it as often as he can

Are you a good dancer too? If you suggest to him to join an amateurs comp, he is ecstatic! He hasn’t choreographed in years and he gets a chance to use that skill once again

If you just prefer it being the two of you, he is more than happy to keep at that, dancing in the living area, the kitchen, shower, bedroom….

He is a plant guy

You can take this headcannon from my cold dead hands

He loves being able to water them and tend to them and they just add colour to his place and warmth

It becomes one of his favourite hobbies

Be careful as this means you will need to keep an eye out for any new plants he snuck into your home

If you have a pet he is very careful to ensure that he only has plants that are pet friendly

Oh he for sure has a little corner dedicated to pure black plants, how could he not

The next year flies buy with little issue

Oh there where teething issues living with each other for certain, but you both learnt how to talk with each other so that it didn’t turn into an argument

Boundaries were set and honoured and life couldn’t be easier

He starts being a touch more nostalgic about his childhood; He has managed to make some wonderful friends and kept those relationships up but he cant help but think about the friends he left behind in Golden Grove

PART TWO WILL BE REBLOGGED WITH THIS ASK!!!

[the-lark-ascending69]

Near-future, black mirror esque AU in which Nancy, stressed college student with loads of childhood trauma, gets recommended by her psychologist to get an emotional support robot. That's what they're called, yes. They're sold to very lonely people to pretty much look after them emotionally. Nancy has always hated the idea, and doesn't really like androids or robots of any kind. Plus, she thinks it's quite sad that she's so lonely she needs an android to keep her company. She also couldn't possibly afford it.

Her friend Steve, though, who hasn't seen her in a year despite living 15 minutes away (she has a tendency to isolate herself and use her studies as an excuse), got her one. It's a second-hand unit, a slightly older model that's seen several repair shops in the past, but it works, and it was half the price of a new one. He shows up to her apartment with the box, looking smug and proud of himself. If anything, Nancy feels insulted.

She doesn't touch the box for a few weeks, and doesn't get rid of it either, because her studies take her so much time, she can't bring herself to keep her apartment clean. When her mother visits and sees the mess she's living in, with a perfectly functional android willing to help her, she finally caves, and as soon as she's alone, she decides to see if this thing can at least help her clean up.

It surprises her that it looks so... human. Its skin is soft and warm, with all the natural imperfections of a human's skin. Same as her hair. She's dressed in old worn-out clothes, and she curls into herself, in fetal position, inside the box. Only the button under her skin on the back of her neck reveals her as an android. Nancy reads the instructions, presses there for 10 seconds, and waits.

Or she planned to wait - eight seconds in with Nancy's fingers pressed on that spot, and the android's eyes flew open. She cried out, screambled out of the box and looked around, breathing heavily and hugging herself. Her eyes fix on Nancy, look her up and down with a frown, and asks:

"Who are you?"

Nancy opens her mouth to reply, then looks down at the instructions, hoping they'd say something about this kind of scenario, and that her new robot didn't go rogue and try to kill her.

"Wait, are those my instructions?" The robot asked. She looked down. "I really don't mean to complain about my living situation going from extremely fucked to simply fucked, but that is not my original box. Mine was smaller, and it had a bunch of little dots on the side. Did they sell me again?"

The instructions said nothing about this possibility, so Nancy decided it was time to improvise.

"I... my friend got you at a garage sale, I think."

"Oh. Well, that is low, even for me," the robot said. She rubbed the back of her neck. "Should my neck hurt this much?"

Nancy blinked.

"Shouldn't you know that?"

"Honestly, I don't even know what levels of pain are normal for me. It always hurts just a little bit somewhere, like, right now, my whole spine really hurts." She laughs. "At least I think it's supposed to feel like pain? I don't think we're wired to feel pain, exactly, I mean, that would be just sadistic. Talk anti-natalism to me. But I swear this spot right here just feels really really bad. Or maybe it's anthropocentric to... perceive it as pain, don't you think? It's very existentialist, actually, the whole... perceiving thing - I bet Berkeley wrote something about it, at some point, but I haven't read him in ages."

"You read books?"

"What? Oh. Oh, uh... I - I think I'm offline? Like, I don't have access to the database, so I kinda have to do it the old-fashioned way if I want to learn somethin," she said. "It's cool, though! I like reading a lot."

"...Okay. So, um... here it says your model is..."

"Robin," the android said. Nancy looked up.

"I'm sorry?"

"That's my name," she said. "I came up with it, I - I thought it sounded nice. Do you like it?"

Nancy stared at this... thing, a million thoughs coursing through her head. The first one was a newfound understanding of her low price.

She made a movement with her head that could be understood as both a shake and a nod at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah, sure" she said, brows knit together. What the hell did Steve get her into? "It's... nice."

"Oh, thank God, because Mom and Dad hated it."

"Mom and...?"

"My first owners - Richard and Melissa, I always called them Mom and Dad. They... they, uh, they hated that, too."

Jesus Christ.

"So... Robin," Nancy said. "I was wondering if you could help me put away some of my things while I study."

"Oh! Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure." She stood there, eyes wandering, around, until they fell on Nancy's bookshelf "Holy shit, you have Dostoyevski! Is it in Russian?"

Nancy blinked, opened her mouth, took a step back and shook her head. Robin was already striding towards her bookself, tracing the spines of books with her fingers.

"Actually, why don't you read after you clean this up?"

Robin turned to see her, eyes wide and a growing smile, like a kid in a candy shop.

"I - I can read all of this?"

Nancy was going to kill Steve.

She shrugged and shook her head.

"Sure," she said. "After you clean this mess."

"Aye aye, cap!" Robin chirped, making a quick salute with her hand and getting to work.

Nancy was, for certain, going to murder Steve for making her responsible for this... thing. There was something wrong in her system, and that was very much obvious. She looked down at the instructions manual - surely there would be a way to turn her off for the night. She wouldn't want Robin to murder her in her sleep, or worse - wake her up at 4 am to talk about books.

Or she could just tell her to shut up. She was a robot, anyway. It's not like she could feel anything.

[somebluemelodies]

i love that there’s an ongoing theme with a lot of the qsmp ships (especially the canon/close to canon ones) that is just this typically serious, nonchalant character - likely with a heavy/angsty backstory - and a character who’s oftentimes silly/chaotic, dramatic, or simply exudes wet cat energy, with or without the angsty backstory

i’m mainly looking at spiderbit, fitpac, and pissa/phissa- read my nonsensical ramble under the cut-

spiderbit!! you have q!Cellbit: a former child solider and an ex-convict from Alcatraz bc he was a cannibal and essentially a crazed serial killer. and his husband is q!Roier, who spent his earlier days on the island flirting with anyone and everyone, has Drama Queen™️ tendencies, and has an alter-ego who lives a double life as a stripper and psychologist. i don’t think Chafaland is canon so we don’t have much of a pre-island backstory for him, if one at all. granted, q!Cellbit we all know that sometimes has the wet cat or chaotic moments, so different dynamics can be interchanged between these two

fitpac!! q!Fit comes directly from the anarchy hellscape known as 2b2t, and as far as i’m aware, has spent most of if not all of his life there. led wars, killed a shit ton of people… yknow, all that jazz. literal war veteran. and yet!! who softens him and literally makes him fucking blush but none other than q!Pac. yes, q!Pac literally got his leg eaten and was also put into Alcatraz but up until he got kidnapped a couple weeks ago, the sheer chaos of this man?? regardless of the angst?? and now he’s slowly healing and getting back to normal too?? a silly lil inventor guy fr

pissa (why was this the chosen ship name again?)!! idk what the hell is going on with q!Phil’s backstory other than that he’s an/the Angel of Death, so there’s whatever angst and/or drama that comes with that. but this man just wants to chill and take care of his kids. and then… you have q!Missa… the MOST pathetic wet cat (/affectionate) on the entire island. and yknow what? i love him for that! the way this man has acted with q!Phil since he returned? i don’t even think i need to elaborate

but on a more serious note tho, i love that the relationships can (and do) run so much deeper too

i’ve talked about spiderbit plenty, but i’ll keep talking about them bc they just mean sm to me. the way they balance each other out and complement each other, the way they’re always there for each other. the way their relationship is so heavily built on trust. these two have so much love and commitment for each other it’s almost sickening. meus pais </3

fucking fitpac man they grew on me so fast :’D there’s a certain depth and potential with them that makes me crazy. they way they could (and do) help each other and always look out for each other. the way that they, regardless of inadvertently or intentionally, help each other heal from all the baggage they each carry is just… ough. i need them to become canon at this point idc. they’re both clearly into each other i don’t make the rules. THE POTENTIAL

i really hope we get more pissa bc it’s literally so crystal clear they care about each other, regardless of how much distance or how much time has passed. and that’s big. just like fitpac, there’s so much potential with them too, even if their marriage is platonic. i just wanna see their dynamic explored more please and thank you. it’s been so long </3

ANYWAY that’s… whatever this was. did this make any sense? idk. these gay cubitos man, i’m telling you. gotta love the lgbtqsmp. if you read all that, thanks :D

[22ayla19]

Kartein x Kayden's younger sister! Reader

For the awakened, Kayden like a thorn that they cannot get rid of. And he is the only one. What will happen if he has a younger sister who is as crazy about fighting as Kayden?

Personally, it seems to me that some awakened ones will simply start digging their own grave in advance. Because no one dares to look at his little sister. It’s corny because no one deserves to look at such a beauty as you. Poor guys who tried to ask you out...

Well, basically, it doesn’t matter to you, since you’re not particularly interested in relationships. Like your brother, you improve yourself for personal gain, or rather the excitement of battle. Kayden himself admits that you win thanks to your thoughtful tactics and feminine cunning, which makes him inferior to you. But this is only in tactics, in terms of strength you are weaker than your brother, but definitely not weaker than people from the top 50.

And you might think, well, there are two pains in the ass in the world of the awakened, and so what? Well, let’s start with the fact that you, like your brother, are a pain in the ass, not only for all the awakened ones, but also for one brilliant healer.

When Kartein first met you, it didn’t immediately dawn on him who you looked so much like, and only when he saw Kayden on the horizon did he understand. He asked only one question: were your parents reasonable people or crazy, crazy about battles? Be that as it may, after getting to know you more closely, Kartein realized that you were still different from your brother.

You may have looked like a crazy battle freak, but in reality, you were very affectionate and kind. Well, this is not surprising for the world of the awakened. On the outside you need to be strong, insensitive and cruel, otherwise they will kill you, despite the fact that you may be such a good-natured person.

At some point, you became so close that you told each other’s secrets, even Kayden did not know about all your secrets like Kartein. At times, Kartein also took on the role of psychologist, because you could get very upset about something.

You yourself didn’t notice how gradually from friends they became lovers who hid their relationship from Kayden. You didn’t know how to tell him this news, since it’s unlikely that he would give his younger sister into the hands of another man, and if he did, he would scare the poor fellow to death.

But there will still come a time when you tell your brother that you are dating Kartein. You've never heard so much screaming and obscene language. Kayden was ready to kill Kartein. With difficulty, but still you calmed your brother down, and he also began to think about what to do with this news.

They agreed that he would definitely send any other candidate to the next world, and he at least trusts Kartein, but this is on the condition that God forbid he offends you. He will kill and not blink an eye.

No matter what, I received approval from my brother, and the next day he disappeared. You weren’t particularly surprised, he apparently left to look for an opponent, and you’re used to this. He's gone for two weeks, but then he comes back. That's what you thought until a couple of months passed, and not a single call or message from your brother. Already Kartein wanted to kill Kaidan for upsetting you.

And, oh, miracle! Kayden deigned to call, but not his sister, Kartein. To ask him to heal his student. Kartein did not hide from you that Kayden called him, because he knew that despite the offense, you would still be glad to know that your brother was alive in the first place.