#he's a little twitchy about talking about it

[brooklynbred-c]

hcxcd : what's the size of your little soldier? is it thick?

" uhhhhh . . . " steve rubbed the back of his neck. did it really matter at this point? he supposed not , but it still pulled him to take another long sip of his beer before answering. " i guess it's thicker than most when it's soft . . . it's uh . . . been a while since i paid attention. "

[quietwingsinthesky]

also very funny because even’s only reference for time lord regeneration = pronoun changing is missy because missy was doing A Performance so they are continuing to refer to thirteen with he/him because without being told to stop, they are pretty sure nothing needs to change. but also they have no idea how to bring up if the doctor would want them to stop because again. they can only use missy to explain themselves. and missy is Kind Of A Sore Subject Right Now.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: angst, toxic traits, somewhat bullying, breakup

♡ FEM reader

You’re his first girlfriend. He’d never bothered with anything serious before—it seemed too messy to trifle with. He doesn’t know why he suddenly decided. Suppose he’d been feeling a little bored, and something within him saw you as a fool-proof opportunity.

It wasn’t because you were anything special. Actually, it was more the opposite. You didn’t seem like too big of a risk. You were just a normal, honest, nice person—a bit of a loser, too, if he was being honest. He could do a lot better and pick someone of the same caliber as him, someone with a cooler style and presence, but then he’d only get caught up in the competition.

You were more to his appetite—a dorky, blushy lil’ nerd who giggled nervously at everything he said. In other words, no competition at all. You’d never dare break his heart because you frankly couldn’t afford it. And he found solace in that imbalance—knowing he held all the cards and that you could only be grateful he’d chosen you.

At least, that had been what he’d thought. But then, here you are, holding his hands from across the table in a cute little sundae café, telling him how this just can’t work anymore.

He’s confused for a whole minute before it sinks in.

You’re breaking up with him.

He’s confused afterward, too.

You’re breaking up with him?

That can’t be right. You must be joking. He almost laughs, almost cackles, but ends up staying completely silent. Something about that pitiful look in your eye makes his throat tight, and he almost thinks he’s going to cry instead. 

You’re breaking up with him. You, with him. His foot starts to tap. Have you hit your head or something? You’re dressed in a hoodie, for crying out loud, with not an ounce of make-up on—effortless, as if his perception of you wasn’t any of your concern while you’re fucking breaking up with him.

No way. There’s just no way. You must be confused about something, is all. There’s absolutely no way you’re doing this.

“What are you talking about?” It comes angry. Louder than he’d intended, enough to make you jolt in your seat. A couple of heads even turn your way. You wait for them to turn back before answering.

“I just think we’re a bit too different. And… I don’t know…” You were trying to find ways of telling him you weren’t in love with him but ended up deciding it was unnecessary—it wasn’t exactly something he needed to hear even though you had a lot you could say.

You’re rude and arrogant and treat me like some rescue pet you’ve nurtured back to health. You act like you’re embarrassed to be with me even though you’re the one without any friends. You’re selfish and spoiled and—

“If you don’t know, then there’s nothing to talk about. Quit being silly.” He has a furrow between his brows as he picks up the pink menu between the two of you, scanning the different types of milkshakes you could share and forget all about it. After all, you weren’t breaking up with him—that would just be absurd. “Let’s get strawberry.”

“No—”

“Guess we could get mango if you want that instead—”

“I’m not sharing drinks with you—”

“What? You tryna lose weight or something? Not like anyone but me is gonna see you when all you wear are those baggy hoodies all the time. Speaking of which, you should wear mine instead, they’d suit you better—”

“Listen.” You stop his rambling. “I’m not sharing drinks, and I’m not wearing your clothes. I’m not being silly, either. I’m being serious. It’s over—”

“No, it’s not.” His fist bangs against the table—the look in his eye on edge and twitchy. “I asked you why, and you had no good reason—so it’s not, not until you convince me.”

You had wanted to avoid it, but it seems he wouldn’t allow you the grace to spare him. That being said, you hadn’t meant to be so brutally honest…

“You’re a narcissist. You don’t treat me like a girlfriend. I’m more like a charity case or some type of experiment to you. Half the time, it feels as though you’re just playing a game with everyone in your life like pawns for you to shuffle around the board as you see fit.” You’re the one with the furrowed brows now, unable to bite your tongue as you’d kept it in all this time. “I think you should seek help and get your controlling tendencies straightened out before having any type of relationship. Or don’t. In any case, I don’t think I’m the right girl for you.”

There’s a silence. The chatter of the café seems distant. You feel half inclined to apologize as you look at him and stare down the glassy tabletop as if trying to find his reflection for comfort—but then he beats you to the punch.

“You’re right…” he starts softly, mustering the words, and you’re almost proud to see him take it so well, but then there’s a viscousness to his next words. “You’re not the right girl for me.”

When he looks up again, his face is warped—callous and seemingly disgusted by the sight of you. Something about it even seems to lash out at you, seeking revenge.

“I can’t believe I thought I saw something in you,” he sighs. “Turns out you’re exactly what everyone warned me you would be—just a plane-boring old Jane. What a joke—wasting so much time on something so worthless. Forget breaking up with me, I should have broken up with you a long time ago.”

He gets up in a rush and bears over the table, both palms laid flat upon the surface.

“Charity case?” he seethes, then conjures a fake laugh and an even faker grin. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Enjoy sitting here alone like the loser you are.”

And even though you’re the one watching him walk away while ordering a chocolate sundae for yourself, you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy… 

That had been the most emotion you’d ever witnessed come from him.

Obviously, he doesn’t take it very well, stumbling through the café before bursting out the door, but even he’s surprised by how disheveled it had made him. He’s hyperventilating when the fresh air hits him, almost sprinting to his car so that he can lock himself inside it.

But the car only makes it worse as he’s far from alone in there. You’re everywhere. On the hood, waiting for him with a smile. In the rearview mirror, waving at him. In the seat next to him with a pout, asking if you can stay over. In the backseat, naked with a coy twinkle in your eye.

He knows! He has some of your underwear at home—he’ll threaten to pass them around campus unless you beg him to take you back. No, what’s he thinking!? You’ll never come back to him that way. Fuck, what can he do, what’s he supposed to do!? He just called you worthless—what that fuck was he thinking?!

The tears startle him as they drip down and splash upon his whitening knuckles, where he grips the wheel for dear life even as the car stays completely still—safe and sound in the same plot.

There’s a light pink lip balm on the dash. Yours. You must have left it there—maybe on purpose? No… you don’t play games like that. You’d been honest in the café. The fact terrifies him—his heart seems to want to reject it at all costs, the way it tears in his chest.

He picks the slim pink stick up and rolls it around in his hand, which can’t seem to stop shaking. You’d sat on his lap in this very seat, laughing at something dumb he’d said while applying the very same balm on his lip—kissing his forehead while saying something sweet. He knows it wasn’t, but he imagines you’d whispered that you loved him.

When he smears the balm around his lips this time, he imagines kissing you and your soft lips and that everpresent smile he never bothered telling you was pretty.

He’s such an idiot. The birds in the parking lot take flight at the jostling of his car, but no one hears the roar.

And as he sits there in the following silence, wallowing in his own self-pity and regret, he can’t help but feel like the lead of some angsty teen romance.

And like the lead in an angsty teen romance, he swears… whatever it takes… he will win you back.

You will be his again.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Gojo, Naoya, some young type of Sukuna, or Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[soap-ify]

simon loves it when you aren't wearing any panties under your loose pajama shorts.

cw — mild degradation, p in v.

it was done very much intentionally at first. you just wanted to see if he’d even notice you not wearing anything under your shorts. just a little fun idea, right?

unbeknownst to you, simon had already noticed it the very minute you walked into the bedroom. he just pretended to be oblivious, enjoying your subtle yet desperate attempts to rile him up a little too much — the way you tried to spread your legs a little too much.

you were seated cross-legged in front of him on the bed, playing on your phone while his hand was lazily caressing your head, eyes fixated on the way your loose shorts were pushed a bit aside, the gap between the cloth and your thighs clearly showing a glimpse of your cunt, the subtle glisten from the light making his lips twitch up slightly. you were fucking wet.

“pretty cunt’s staring at me, love.” he said in the most nonchalant way possible, causing your attention to snap away from your phone and fall onto him, his words causing you to squeak in embarrassment. the sudden wave of shyness made you nibble on your bottom lip in confusion, since it was you who had come up with this idea in the first place.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about…” you mumbled under your breath, pretending to be dumb. maybe a bit too dumb.

“not wearin’ any panties today, eh? dirty fucking girl.” he scoffed playfully and leaned forward, his large rough hands gripping onto the soft plush of your thighs a bit tight, causing you to let out a quiet whimper.

“wanted to get your attention…”

“you always have my attention.” he mumbled more gently this time, his gruff voice causing your stomach to be flooded with butterflies while his lips pressed soft pecks on your cheek, earning bubbly giggles from you.

his callused fingers pushed your loose shorts to the side with ease, not bothering to take them off while having enough room to look at your cunt, raising his brows at the slick that was coating you.

“what got you so riled up?”

“you…” your hips twitched instinctively once you felt his fingertips grazing up and down your cunt, gathering up all the wetness before messily smearing it on your puffy folds and clit.

you could feel it getting sticky in between your legs, cheeks and ears all heated up while your chest gently rose and fell.

“you’re such a dirty little thing. s’only fair for me to make you messier, right?” he asked, earning an embarrassingly quick nod from you.

simon was quick to push you on your back, his hands gripping your legs and pushing them apart, your body shuddering once you felt the cool air caressing your sweet pussy, one hand of his reaching to tug down his sweatpants alongside his briefs, his girthy cock springing free from the clothes, already hardening up.

“look at what you do to me. flauntin’ your pussy ‘round like that. just a needy little thing.” he huffed, his breathy voice doing nothing to hide the desperation laced in his actions.

“si… i—” your words were cut short by the swollen tip of his cock rubbing against the clit gently, as if giving it pretty kisses, the soft fabric of your pushed aside shorts gently rubbing against his length, eliciting a soft moan from your lips while your hips bucked forward, seeking more friction.

“hush. gonna give you what you were looking for so badly.” a sweet grin twitched on his lips, his cock slowly pushing into your tight cunt, your walls instantly clinging onto his length and sucking him in, causing a grunt to leave his lips.

“fuck— patience, love.” his hands gently eased your legs up his shoulders, pulling you into him before he delivered a light, gentle slap on your twitchy hard clit, earning a whine from you.

“si!” your eyes started getting glossy with pleasure, feeling his cock tenderly rubbing against your spongy spots inside while he thrusted in and out of your cunt at a gentle pace, your legs trembling on his shoulders, trying not to get a cramp, your fingers clinging onto the fabric of his shirt tight.

“so pretty f’me…” he groaned in between his thrusts, his hands moving to lovingly caressing your thighs, kneading the plush, your mind fuzzy with pleasure while those familiar tight knots began forming in your stomach, indicating your impending orgasm.

the night resulted in your cunt messily dripping with his thick cum, your poor shorts being completely ruined, alongside the sheets. he better clean it all up.

[servicpop]

kinktober week 2 — edging & public/voyeurism(?) subby cole ( cowboy oc ) x bttm ( "showgirl" ) m reader

ⓘ voyeurism because cole is naked & outside , hand job ( cole receiving ) , he gets a cold from it

It was a quiet evening in Cole's hometown with you and him sat thigh to thigh on his plush swing chair out on the porch of his house. The streets weren't busy beside the occasional herder dog chasing after a stray sheep — to which you and Cole got a good laugh at.

This was the grace period of your work, no shows scheduled for the week, no meetings, and you were contact free from your boss. So, you spent the first day of the week travelling from the city to the countryside where Cole lived, and he was ecstatic seeing you again. You remember so vividly what happened when you showed up in the town. All the townsfolk practically knew every bit about you from how much Cole would talk about you and show off the polaroids you'd send to him via letters.

Asking where Cole was wasn't difficult since people were quick to usher you to Cole, leading you to the stables where he was tending the horses. The moment he saw you his eyes widened as if seeing an angel and he stumbled over his own boots from how fast he was running to you. He swooped you up in his arms and lifted you up from the ground almost cartoonishly with the way he nuzzled his face into you. Cole also spun you around a few times which undoubtedly made you feel a bit dizzy.

"Whaddaya smilin' so hard for, sugar?" Cole giggled at you smiling like an idiot; the laughter just bubbled out his throat. He leans his face closer to yours, only an eyelash away as he interrogates your random smile.

"Just thinking," you hum, still grinning ear to ear with your arms tangled and coiled around his. Cole doesn't believe you for a second and you can see it in the way one of his eyebrows raise. He moves in to brush his cheek against yours, cuddling up to you as the porch swing rocked delicately.

Cole's skin is more bronzed than before, his cheeks were dusted with sunkissed freckles, and his eyelashes seemed to have grown a bit longer, but his dimples never changed. Those dents in the side of his cheek always seemed to appear when you were around him.

You can feel his hands wrap around your waist a little tighter and your ears start to pick up Cole's slightly laboured breathing. You were about to ask if he was alright before you see him move his felt cattleman hat over his lap. That quirks your eyebrow.

"What's this?" You ask him with a playful chuckle, brushing your fingertips along the fabric of the hat.

"Don't stare sweets, it's just my body actin' up," He murmurs behind your shoulder, shrinking into the darkness between your back and the chair, "I'm embarrassed."

You giggle at his reaction; Cole is too pure for his own good. Your fingers slide underneath his hat, resting your hand on his inner thigh. "You don't have to be all shy, you know I won't judge," you coo, rubbing the fabric of his denim jeans lightly, but Cole squirms at the ticklish sensation nonetheless. His hand darts out to grip your forearm with shaky fingers like he was debating if he should actually stop you or not.

"Honey, not here," his voice almost reaches that whiny tone when he gets desperate for something. Despite his words, Cole doesn't even seem to notice his own hand guiding yours closer to his crotch. Its like he acts subconsciously, like its programmed into his brain to let you touch him. He lets out a small sigh of defeat, his head dropping back to rest on your shoulder as his hands move to clutch the top of his hat.

"Just— Just a little," his voice cracks and he's stuttering but you know that's his way of giving you the greenlight. You find your way to his belt buckle, slowly undoing it incase he wanted to back out and stop. He doesn't, so you slip off the belt and pull the zipper down.

Cole is hard. You see it through his light gray boxers, he's twitching, begging for you to give it some attention.

The cool breeze of the afternoon air reminds you that you're outside on his porch, nothing blocking his body but his hat. You glance up at Cole's face and it seems his cheeks have gotten significantly more pink and his pearly whites are caught onto his chapped, equally pink lip. There's a glossy sheen over them from saliva and you know its because he's been licking his lips repeatedly — a habit you've realised he does when he's flustered or nervous.

"You okay?" You giggle softly, shooting him a genuine look before stretching the fabric of his waistband down to rest below his aching dick.

"Yup, mighty fine darlin'." He's lying, and you know because Cole has his fist to his mouth and he's biting down on his pale skin to try and control himself. In reality, he's leaking all over your palm already, and his pale pink tip is dyed an angry red now.

You first use the tips of your fingers to cage around the base of his cock, dragging it all the way up lightly until it reaches the head. Cole is already whining and whimpering into his fist from the ticklish feeling. You see the slight tremble in his thighs when you slide your thumb around and over the slit of his tip, smearing his pre-cum everywhere.

"Oh, hellfire," he barks out but its more of a puppy's bark. The phrase 'hellfire' is an unfamiliar term for a city boy like yourself, but you're smart enough to understand that it's an old-timey phrase for a swear word. It's cute with the way he's crumbling at your hands but still makes an effort not to use "big city curses," as he calls it.

You finally move your hand to wrap around Cole's girth, stroking at a slow pace at first before increasing the speed. Its a vulgar sound from the lack of lube but his copious amounts of pre makes up for it. You feel every single vein throb at the feeling of your palm rubbing against it, pulsing with need.

"Hah, you're too good at this," he praises through a clenched jaw and laboured breaths. It isn't long before Cole catches your rhythm, bucking his hips up to match your hands. The porch swing rocks slightly more as he's thrusting up into your hand, his hat long gone as he's now fully exposed to those who walk by.

His moans become a little more throaty and you can tell he's enjoying it with the way his legs squirm as if he's being restrained from moving. Cole's eyes are screwed shut and his eyebrows are knitted together but his mouth slightly gapes into an 'o' shape, shamlessly letting out groans and whimpers.

Your fast paced stroking starts to slow down, and Cole's eyes fling open. "Wh–what are you doing?" He fluttered his thick eyelashes, looking down at your hand slowly pumping his cock. You don't respond to him, slowly increasing the pace but never speeding it up enough to tip him over the edge.

"Sweetheart, please." You swear you see tears brimming his eyes as he tries to move his hips to your hand and it does succeed for a bit. He's seeing stars as your hand just glides along his dick, feeling up every place that he's sensitive at. Its not enough though, your hand is barely squeezing him and it feels like a half-assed attempt to jerk him off.

"Baby, please just— clench your hand harder, please," he pleads, cupping your hand with his but he's so gentle with you it doesn't do anything. He's so close, he's teetering off the edge of an orgasm but he's not there yet. It almost hurts with how bad he wants to cum but he can't. Your hand ghost's over his tip and his body jerks forward from the touch but you pull away again and that heat in his stomach dies again.

He lets out a shaky breath of relief when he feels your hand clamp around him once more. Cole shoots you a glare, squeezing your hand tighter as if he's ensuring that you don't pull away again and mumbles, "I don't trust you no more."

You giggle and shake your head apologetically, "Sorry, sorry, I won't do it again," you promise, and you even bring your free hand to palm the tip of Cole's dick. He's whimpering again the second one of your hands is rubbing his head and the other is pumping his length.

His head is strewn back, adams apple bobbing at each harsh swallow. Cole feels your breath fan his tip and his eyes fling open, his whole body tensing as he watches you press a kiss to his red cockhead.

He orgasms right then and there, accidentally splashing your face with his seed.

"Ah— sorry 'bout that... you okay?"

You lift your head and Cole's hand wipes the cum off your face, "Maybe I deserved that," you chuckle. The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon and the streetlamps were starting to flicker on. Cole's shoulders jerk as he sneezes.

"Might've caught a cold from bein' out here, naked, all because of you," he huffs dramatically, pulling up his boxers and his jeans. "You gon' nurse me to heal if I do?" He flashes his teeth in a toothy smile and he has that post-orgasmic glow to his face.

"Yeah, yeah I will."

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining a "lazy day" with the 141, except, it's really just you getting them to finally wind down from their experiences.

Like, everyone's still a little beat up and tender from the last mission. No one really has the energy to do much of anything except quietly laze around in the recroom. It's not a tense silence, just a tired one.

Reports (both verbal and written) have been filed. There's just nothing to talk about. It's over, you won. The end, right? Except not really.

Everyone is still a bit twitchy and hypervigillant. The sound of footsteps make their ears perk, they give you quick once overs and check your face as they pass by. And, with bated breath, you watch as they check the shadows in the corners. You're so tired from treating their small wounds you just don't have it in you to be on edge too. So instead, you sit on the couch and one by one ask them to sit with you.

Soap is easy enough to pull back to reality. He leans against you and relaxes into just your presence. You seem to ground him. You run your fingers through his hair and after about thirty minutes he's purring jelly.

Gaz takes a little bit more work. He doesn't want to sit, and when he does he's bouncy, agitated and squirmy. You make him out his head in your lap and watch the cooking channel while you massage at the nape of his neck. It's takes a while, but eventually he falls asleep. When he wakes he's drowsy and stiff but it's almost like he's reset. He seems to function like normal after.

Price, is well...Price. You can't help him alone so you enlist the help of Soap and Gaz. You rope him into rather stupid, childish things to distract his mind. You make him watch you play video games or have him show you how it's done in a game of pool. With the three of you laughing and smiling at him it doesn't take long for the set of his shoulders to dip and lax. His tired eyes twinkle, and if you get him his favorite drink he's brand new once more.

Ghost is the hardest to bring back. After the worst missions he's sometimes irredeemable for a couple days. None of you can really stand his bloodshot, dead eyed glare or the heavy breaths muffled into his mask. He really is like a hungry wraith, always searching you every moment as if you're about to change from friend to foe. But, the way you find the easiest to pull him back, is to just be in his presence. It's always unnerving. You feel like a hen in a foxhole. But after a few hours of simply willing to exist in the same space as him, he softens. You're friend. Not foe. You're his team. You've gotten to the point where you can tell when you can offer him some tea. He never says thank you, but he finally seems to blink, and that's all the thanks you need.

[acowardinmordor]

I’m waiting at the gate to board a plane, so have the next blip of thought for that high angst secret admirer thing

-

Lucas, the only of the kids with an ounce of emotional awareness knows that something is up with Steve. He also knows that Eddie has been in a manic grief. He doesn’t connect the two. Yet.

He sits with Steve and Robin at lunch at least a couple times a week, and screw Hellfire if they have a problem with it. Basketball team too. Steve is a full stop loser now, and Lucas was for years, he’s going to stand by him. Also, Steve saved his life, literally, repeatedly, high school popularity doesn’t exactly compare.

Ofc Steve tells him he doesn’t need to, but Lucas knows that the guy is sad about something, and extra sad that Dustin is still following Eddie like a duckling. Robin calls him out on it, but Steve has been talking about himself like he’ll never be more than a bullying popular kid. Lucas hates that most of all.

Then again, Eddie is obviously spun up about something. He’s twitchy and snappish, but he’s being nicer than normal to the jocks and popular kids. The thread he can pull on is seeing Eddie scribbling in a notebook - not his campaign notebook - but guarded just as carefully. Lucas follows him eventually and sees the poor, abused copy of the Hobbit in the library.

He reads the start of one, an apology for whatever he did that made his admirer stop writing. There’s a quote near the end from what must have been the other persons last note.

Lucas is smart. Lucas can see the pattern. He takes every single letter. Isn’t going to read them, but the one he read made it clear the both were gay, and there’s only one Eddie in school who would reference lord of the rings.

It’s for Eddie’s safety. It’s for Steve’s safety.

He doesn’t tell anyone. Not even Robin or Max, who have closed ranks around Steve.

Lucas feels like the worst person on the planet when Eddie is giddy the next day. Then his mood sinks back down as the days go by.

Since he isn’t actually the worst, Lucas doesn’t read the letters. Or tell Steve he knows. By the start of winter break, Eddie has stopped leaving letters. All of which are in a box under Lucas’ bed. He’s meaner after break. His rants are more pointed. Lucas gets called out for playing basketball and betraying nerds everywhere.

Steve is withdrawn and quiet, doesn’t even show up to lunch most days, and just keeps telling them that they don’t need to pretend they like him because of the Upside Down. That it’s okay. He knows who he really is. He laughs it off as a joke when someone argues.

But Lucas pays attention, understands why Steve thinks that, and honestly, it makes him hate the Hellfire guys a little. Makes him resent Mike and Dustin even more.

[kings-highway]

some safe-for-work headcanons regarding how they might of gone about having sex for the first time for some of my favouritr haikyuu ships:

daisuga: look you know these bitches had it scheduled. not like a meticulous planned thing, but it was definitely something they knew was going to happen in advance. Like they talked about it, agreed they both wanted it, and then 3 weeks later Suga's parents go away for the weekend and they know like a solid week in advance that their "hang out" on Saturday evening is basically exclusively so they can have sex. They're very prepared. This also probably makes that week of training super annoying for the team bc they cant figure out why their captains are being SO overly giggly like you are seventeen/eighteen year old men wtf is going on.

iwaoi: i've always thought they were probably way more nervous than any of their friends assumed and definitely did not have sex as early as people thought. like mattsun and makki both constantly tease them in a way that insinuates they're actively having sex but they probably didnt actually do it until like... the last few months of high school. They were both just nervous! Iwa was very afraid of rushing things and doing it "wrong," and Oikawa wasnt even sure what doing it "right" would be so they had like 6 false-starts before they actually managed it.

ushiten: dorm living is not condusive to intimacy so when for the first time in like 8 months since they started dating that they have a confirmed evening with a locked dorm alone they end up making out for just a crazy amount of time. Tendou is too nervous to actually move anything forward because he's too anxious over the possibility of rejection but he keeps making these weird half-insinuations like "haha I cant believe nobody's going to be back for another four hours... we could do anything and get away with it... isnt that so funny... like nobody would know if we were making out or having sex or just reading a book... haha... isnt that crazy... me and you..." and he's all weird and twitchy about it until Ushijima tells him he doesn't think the idea of them having sex is crazy at all and then it is on immediately.

kuroken: highkey, kuroo probably lays out like a whole romantic, corny ass evening with candles and rose petals and is prepared to have a whole long conversation about being "ready" and Kenma just sort of rolls his eyes and is like "have you finished talking? this is Too Much. I need you to understand this is Too Much. Oh my god I love you but WOW." (it works anyway and Kenma is sufficient wooed).

tsukkiyama: this one might be a little out there but I genuinely think they're the most likely to have it happen by accident, or in a spontaneous moment of opportunity. Like they both intend to just take advantage of the empty house with only a bit of making out and then suddenly they're losing their clothes and it's like "we'll have a conversation about it tomorrow, im sure."

kagehina: okay this one is more stupid but I imagine after they've been dating a while Hinata is like "you know what, im ready to take the next step" but Kageyama cannot read ppl so Hinata's somewhat obvious attempts at seduction go entirely over his head, and Hinata is getting increasingly frustrated and dramatic and trying really really hard to get Kageyama to realize what he wants and it ends up causing a fight between them because Kageyama thinks Hinata is being weird and Hinata thinks Kageyama is being intentionally distant and eventually Kageyama blows up and is like "Oh my god if you want to break up or something just say so!!!" and Hinata is like "Oh my GOD I dont want to break up with you I want to have sex with you!!!" and of course that shuts everyone up and unfortunately Yachi is probably also there and wants to die.

[machveil]

I LOVE YOU FOR YOU AND YOUR WORKSSS 🫂🫂🫂🙏🙏🙏

your loser!könig is a drug TT and now I can't stop thinking about him. like yes babe, your palms are a bit sweaty and it's ok, I have napkins. oh you don't want to do the talking? I will. I'll do anything for that wet mutt (cuteness aggression) times over times even if he feels like he should be the one doing all the work TT

“Loser!König!! Loser!König!!”, we all chant

Loser!König that can hardly believe you’re dating him. all his confidence and bravado from work crumbles when he’s off duty - especially when he’s with you. he subconsciously wipes his hands on his pants every couple minutes - his fingers a little twitchy when you hold his hand

Loser!König that either doesn’t talk or talks your ear off. he can’t order food at a counter or drive-through without stumbling over his words. he’s always grateful when you order for him, it saves him the embarrassment of stuttering in front of a cashier. when König talks to you though? well… you’re dating him, so that means he can freely yap about his interests, right Liebling?

Loser!König adores when you listen to him. he had trouble with his peers waving him off as a kid and teen, a little too quiet and awkward to talk to others. he’d been the type to shyly ask the teacher if he could work alone on group projects. but you? you’re giving him your full attention, looking up at him like he hung the moon and stars. honestly, you paying full attention to him talking threw König off when you first met him

Loser!König that follows your lead. it’s your world, he’s just living in it, Liebchen. if you walked into a wall König would be right there with you, maybe that’s a little dramatic, but he does follow you like a lost puppy. he’s not too picky about date night activities or picking a place for dinner - he has his own thoughts, but he’d rather do whatever you want. as long as it’s not too crowded, König would follow you to the ends of the earth

CW: sleepy morning sex, Loser!König being sloppy

Loser!König waking up slowly as the sun peaks through the curtains. his hair is messy, thick strands knotted up and tangled, eyes bleary and a little teary as he blinks awake. your back is tucked against his chest, legs tangled together and his arms securely around you

Loser!König that’s painfully hard when he wakes up. he doesn’t want to wake you up, and he’s far too comfortable to move - an all too familiar dilemma for the poor man. so König does what he always does, presses his face to the nape of you neck, eyes screwed shut as he waits for you to wake up. his legs spazz, jolting slightly whenever you shift back against him

Loser!König that nearly whimpers when you slowly wake up, mumbling incoherently against your neck as presses wet, drooly kisses to your skin. his big hands find their way your chest, hips involuntarily jerking against your ass when you tell him it’s okay, he’s been good, he waited and he can finally get off

Loser!König that doesn’t even make it into you - he’s too pent up. all he can manage to do is tug himself free, dumbly humping between your thighs as he paws at you. König’s mouthing at your neck, a layer of spit dripping down against the sheets as his pre smears against your thighs. you’re cooing sweet nothings, telling him what a good job he’s doing for you. that’s really all it takes before he’s sputtering ‘I love you’s and ‘thank you’s, making a mess against you and the bedsheets

[moonstruckme]

Would you pls write a tattoo artist Sirius x fem reader where it’s her first time getting a tattoo and she’s really nervous but he’s really hot idk sorry totally fine if not !!💗

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: mention of needle

modern au

tattoo artist!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

A bell rings as you enter the shop, and you cringe internally. It seems as though now you’re committed to being here. 

“Hi,” a blonde woman behind a desk greets you with a polite smile. “Do you have an appointment?” 

“Oh.” You hesitate, your footsteps stalling like you might back right out the door. “Um, no.” 

“That’s alright.” She waves you forward. “We have space for walk-ins today. I’ve got an appointment coming in a few, but go ahead and fill this out,” she slides a sheet of paper in front of you, “and Sirius will be out for you in a minute.” 

You take the pen she offers you with a terse smile, and even your name is hardly legible with the trembling in your fingers. Sirius, you think as you tick boxes while hardly looking at them. That’s a boy’s name. Isn’t it? You’re not sure how you feel about a boy doing your tattoo. You’d always pictured a cool, tatted-up girl with a throaty voice and a calming demeanor to set your nerves at ease. You’re tempted to ask this woman if you can just book an appointment with her for later, but when you look up she’s slipped behind the curtain to the back room. 

A few moments later, a different head pops out instead. 

“Hello,” this new man says, grinning whilst your stomach bottoms out. Fair skin, dark hair tied loosely behind his head, and tattoos from his neck going down as far as you can see before they disappear under the waist of his pants. His grin is sharp and welcoming at once, spreading over his fine features like it’s been well practiced. 

“Hi,” you manage. 

“You about done with that?” 

It takes him dropping his gaze to the paper under your hand before you realize what he’s talking about. 

“Oh.” You give a weak laugh, pushing it toward him. “Yeah.” 

“Beautiful.” He picks it up, looking it over briefly. “Ready to head back?”

You can feel your heartbeat in your mouth. “Mhm.” 

He holds the curtain open for you. You turn yourself a bit sideways to avoid brushing either him or the curtain as you go through, and he makes an amused face. 

“I’m Sirius,” he says, leading you towards the chairs in the back of the room. There’s music playing from a speaker in the corner, something quick and bass-heavy that’s probably meant to pump up more seasoned customers but makes your skin feel twitchy. Sirius gives you an expectant look. You blink in response. “And you are?”

“Oh, sorry.” You tell him your name. The syllables feel new and awkward on your tongue. 

Sirius tosses you another winsome smile. “No worries,” he reassures you, and you wonder if he gets this reaction a lot. If everyone feels this way around him, like having his full attention directed at you is a little intoxicating and a lot overwhelming. “Is this your first tattoo?” 

“Yeah.” You sit in the chair he gestures to. “How’d you know?” 

He chuckles, the sound sharp and bright. “You’re a tad jumpy, love.” You feel heat rush to your face, but then Sirius gives your calf a little pat and it all goes there instead. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. You usually have problems with needles?” 

“Not really.” You squirm a little, making sure your skirt isn’t riding up your thighs. “I just don’t have any idea how badly it’ll hurt.” 

“Oh, it’s not too bad usually. Do you have an idea of what you want?” 

“Um, yeah.” You get out your phone, showing him the picture you’d found. “Could you maybe do this, like, by my hip?” 

Sirius leans closer to see. “As little as that one?” You nod, and he grins. “Yeah, that’ll be easy! I can do that in five minutes, gorgeous, don’t you worry.” 

“Really?” you ask, hope inflating in your chest. 

“Yeah, let me just…” He turns around to a small desk, drawing a careful sketch before pulling on a pair of disposable gloves. “Alright, where do you want it?”

You pull down the waistband of your skirt, pointing to the bit of skin where your hip turns into your stomach. You hold your breath as he presses the paper to your skin. When he peels it back up, the design stays. 

“Like that?” 

Your reply comes out on an exhale, soft and a bit dizzy. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.” 

“Brilliant.” Sirius looks down at his work, then back up at you. You can’t decide which makes your stomach hurt worse. “Then I think we’re ready to get started. You alright?” 

You ignore the tingly feeling in your fingertips and force yourself to answer before you can think too hard. “Yeah.” 

Sirius looks like he can tell you’re faking it, but he blazes forward anyway, giving you a reassuring smile. “Great, just lie back for me. Like that, yeah. Cool if I roll the top of your skirt down so it doesn’t get in our way?”

You nod. He’s careful and professional as he takes the waistband of your skirt, folding it over itself until it sits beneath your hips, but still a gloved knuckle brushes up against the skin of your lower abdomen. Your heart hiccups.

“Okay, love, here’s what we’re going to do.” You look up to find Sirius’ eyes already waiting for yours. They’re lighter than you’d thought from a distance, a grayish blue like the ocean during a storm. His one hand is resting on the temporary tattoo, and you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat bumping through your skin. You certainly can. “I’m going to touch the machine to you for just a second so you know how it feels, and then I’ll take it off. Sound good?” 

You nod again, bracing yourself. “Okay.” 

“Alright.” 

The machine buzzes to life, and it’s an effort not to flinch. You press your lips together in case you make a sound. Sirius’ brow pinches concentratedly as he touches the needle to the stencil he’s made on your skin. It’s over before you can process it. 

“How was that?” he asks you.

You look up at him in surprise. “Fine,” you say honestly. It stung, but not nearly as bad as you’d expected, and only for as long as he was touching the needle to you. 

“Beautiful.” Sirius seems as relieved as you are, his grin flashing canines. “In that case, you’re golden. Just sit pretty for me, yeah?”

You feel like he has to be intentionally flustering you now, but you don’t have time to dwell upon it before he sets back to work. The sting really is negligible, especially with Sirius’ fingers pressing into your skin to steady his touch and his elbow resting lightly against your thigh. You feel hot in all sorts of places. 

Those gray-blue eyes flicker up to check on you when he pauses every now and then. “You’re amazing,” he praises. “Doing so well, love.” 

It doesn’t help.

[macabr3-barbi3]

CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed. 

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh. 

Right over his head. 

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring. 

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you. 

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of. 

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,” he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him. 

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed  Val coming into a room. 

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants. 

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with. 

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“ 

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach. 

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

[chocum]

i saw you post about tattooartist!choso recently and now i can’t stop thinking about him … with a tongue piercing …

sigh i love talking abt him cW. femreader (she/her), tongue piercings, nipple play, oral

tattooartist!choso who is surprisingly gentle— kind, paralleling the dark ink that artistically lines and covers just about every inch of his bulky body. smiling up at you so, so sweetly when you ask the most obvious questions just to hear his smooth, almost melodic voice ring in your ears. just to ogle and watch him speak, his round tongue piercing catching the warm, orangey glow of his dimly lit parlor.

he can tell you’re nervous with how you chew down on the puff of your bottom lip, eyes glossing as they flit anxiously around the cluttered room. so he hums out a soft “it’ll be fine” attempting to press out your nerves, offering a larger hand to take your bag, “you’re in good hands”

but you’re still so antsy, shifting and squirming against the cracked-up darkly leathered seat before he can even begin outlining the design. every sound around you seems so jacked up and amplified— the hum of familiar R&B music, the rev of cars passing by, the thump of your heart booming rhythmically.

and he can’t have that. how is he supposed to ink you like this? he needs you to calm down and sit still for him … so he presses his pillowy lips against your neck to “help you relax” tenderly dragging the silver ball against your heated skin before slowly moving to peel your shirt off.

“wh- what are you- o- ooh”

with tightly gloved hands, he’s grabbing at your doughy tits— suctioning his lips around your perky nipple, before flicking his pierced tongue, watching starry-eyed how you squirm so cutely for him.

“was tryna calm you down, but you’re still all twitchy, what’s wrong hm? do you want something from me?” his pointer finger and thumb find the flap of your zipper and he’s tugging at it with a stupid smirk. dragging it up and down making your body tense at the sharp metallic hiss.

you only nod sheepishly. then there’s a heat that takes shelter on the apples of your cheeks when you glance down, unable to meet his starved eyes, “pretty girl, use your words”

“i want you, cho, please”

“want me to what?”

his dark purple irises are almost scary. they engulf you, drowning you, making you lose yourself, sending shocks and chills up your spine.

“to- to fuck me..”

you flinch at the laugh that pools from his lips, “see that wasn’t so hard was it”, fingers running through his thick, black hair, tousling it slightly, before moving to yank at your jeans, “let me taste this pussy first, then i swear i’ll fuck you good”

skillfully, sinfully he’s ridding you of your pants, gliding your cute little panties to the crease of your thigh. “she’s all twitchy too,” pressing a sweet kiss to your clit, making you whine, your hips bucking up in a desperate plea for his warm tongue.

and because you asked so, so nicely, the shiny ball littered with spit pokes out his mouth to flick at your most sensitive parts, the rubber of his gloves gliding across the maps of your thighs to rest on your tummy pressing and pushing against it, encouraging you to make a mess of him as if he’s not already the messiest eater— drooling and slobbering all over your cunt.

each time he flicks his piercing against your abused achy clit you swear you see stars, your eyes burning at how tightly they’re screwed shut behind long lashes, both your hands lost in tangles of his fluffy hair as you rock your hips against the sticky mess you’ve made of him.

“so eager now, huh? be good f’me and cum all over my face so i can finish my job”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Coming home to you

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 2

Prompts: Soft and slow & Clothes on

Words: 1,339

Rated: E

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Established relationship; Kindergarten teacher Steve; Domestic fluff; Fluff and smut; Soft dom Eddie; sub Steve; Groping; Dry humping; coming in pants

Eddie is halfway through composing an absolutely sick riff when the front door slams shut. The sound rattles the walls of the apartment and sends one of their framed photos askew. Eddie blinks, pulling off his headphones and taking a few moments to get his bearings. It’s starting to turn dark outside and his stomach is rumbling. Shit, for how long was he out? 

“Stevie? You home?” he calls, but the apartment stays quiet, bar for the creak of the bedroom door and the thud of a body hitting the mattress. Eddie frowns, setting the guitar aside and padding across the hallway. 

A look into their bedroom reveals Steve, spread out on the bed like a starfish. His shoes are lying by the foot end, but that’s as far as he’s managed to undress before collapsing face-down into the sheets. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, sinking down onto the bed and laying a comforting hand on his ankle. “Rough day?” 

“wha dof ip loolie?” Steve says into the mattress. 

Eddie doesn’t rise to the bait, just laughs lightly and crawls further onto the bed, hand migrating from Steve’s ankle up to the small of his back. “Wanna talk about it?” 

Steve’s back rises and falls under the weight of his enormous sigh, but he does turn his head to unstick his face from the pillows. 

“Josh and Christopher got into another fistfight at lunch. Ever tried prying two five-year-olds out of a fistfight? They're at perfect level with your crotch.” 

“Ouch,” Eddie winces, fingers creeping under the hem of Steve’s polo to caress the dip of his spine, just over the waistband of his jeans. 

Steve huffs. “Yeah, ouch. I had to call their parents about it, and you know how Josh's mom is, her son's a perfect little angel in her eyes. And while she was busy yelling at me, the rest of the group got into the finger paint, so guess who's been cleaning the classroom all afternoon.” 

His eyes are large and round and miserable as he looks up. There's a big smudge of pink paint just below his hairline, and Eddie feels something unbearably fond flutter in his chest. 

“I dunno,” Steve shrugs. It turns into a weird, twitchy kind of movement, what with the way he’s still very much embedded in the mattress. “Sometimes I think this isn’t the job for me after all.”

“Aw, baby,” Eddie coos. He shifts so that he’s lying next to Steve, gently coaxing him to turn to his side, so that they are facing each other. “You were made for this job. The kids love you, and what’s some bitchy moms if you’ve fought an interdimensional war?” 

Steve huffs a dry laugh, fingers linking at the base of Eddie’s neck. “Are you suggesting I bring the nail bat to my next Meet the Teacher day?”

“That would be so fucking sexy,” Eddie murmurs, and lets himself be pulled in. 

It starts out innocently enough. A soft press of lips against lips, the gentle tickle of hands running through hair, that beautifully warm feeling blooming in his chest as Steve melts into his touch. Steve sighs against his mouth, low and content, and Eddie nips lightly at his bottom lip, asking for entrance. For a while, they lose themselves in the lazy glide of spit and tongues, legs tangling in the sheets, hands roaming over the familiar curves of shoulders and chests and hips. It's only when Eddie’s hands start fumbling for the fly of Steve’s pants that Steve makes a reluctant sound and breaks the kiss.

“What's wrong?” Eddie asks. “The headaches again?” 

“No,” Steve smiles at him, bashful and soft in the fuzzy light of the darkening room. “Just … fucking exhausted I guess. Sorry, I don't think I'll be up to it today. Can't even muster the energy to take off my clothes, leave alone-” 

“Oh?” Eddie says, cupping the very obvious bulge in Steve's pants and grinning at the startled gasp it gets him. “Don’t worry, baby. You won’t have to take off a thing.” 

Steve laughs, hoarse and breathy with arousal. “What are you on about, huh? There’s no way in hell you can get me off with my clothes o-oh.” 

He trails off into a low moan, forehead sagging against the crook of Eddie’s neck, long lashes tickling Eddie’s skin. 

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks around a chuckle. His one hand continues palming Steve through the fabric of his pants, feeling him grow hard under his touch, while the other splays against the small of his back, pulling him closer. “I bet I can. I bet it’s easy. You’re so responsive, baby, so eager for me to take you apart. Give me half an hour and I’ll have you coming in those pants.” 

“Fucking show-off,” Steve snorts, but his hips have started rolling in slow, rhythmic motions to meet Eddie’s touch. His lips tickle Eddie’s pulse. “Go on then. Prove it.” 

“Gladly, sweetheart,” Eddie says, letting his voice drop to that gravelly rumble that Steve likes. The one that always makes Steve go soft and pliant in his hands, trusting Eddie to do whatever he wants with him. And damn, if he isn’t the luckiest bastard in the world for it. “Your wish is my command, you know that.” 

He presses his lips to that magnificent head of hair, and Steve’s cock twitches in his hand. 

*

“Eddie.” 

Eddie chuckles, teeth grazing the shell of Steve’s ear. He always loves it when Steve says his name, but especially like this. Like a plea. Like a prayer. 

“Hm, baby? What do you need?” 

“Please,” Steve babbles, then swallows and licks his lips, remembering he’s supposed to use his words. “Please, I need to come.” 

“Aw, honey,” Eddie laughs, caressing the curve of Steve’s ass. They’re still lying on their sides, Eddie’s leg wedged firmly between Steve’s thighs, Steve panting into the crook of his neck. His cock is rock-hard in the tight confines of his jeans. Hard just from humping Eddie’s leg, just from Eddie whispering sweet filth in his ear, Eddie’s hands and lips teasing him in all those places he likes to be teased. “But your half hour isn’t even close to over.” 

Steve moans, desperate and broken, and it’s the most delicious sound in the world. When he rocks his hips to grind himself against Eddie’s leg, Eddie cups his ass to pull him flush against him, and the moan turns into a sob. 

“Fuck it, I can’t- … Please, Eddie, I’m so close, I need to- Please, please, please let me come.”

Did Eddie mention he’s the luckiest motherfucker in the whole goddamn world? 

“Of course you may come, Stevie,” he says, brushing back a sweaty strand of chestnut hair and kissing Steve’s temple. “Go ahead.” 

Steve does before he even finishes the sentence, shattering apart with a hoarse scream, and Eddie takes him by the jaw to guide him into a long, languid kiss, licking the sound right out of his mouth. He continues to kiss him while Steve trembles through the aftershocks, only pulling him against his chest when he finally collapses in a boneless heap. 

“Feeling better now?” 

“So much better,” Steve slurs. His smile is bright and off-kilter as he leans up for a peck on the lips. “There’s only one small problem.” 

“Oh? What’s that?” Eddie yawns, stretching his arms above his head and making himself comfortable in the pillows. 

Steve shifts, the movement warm and sticky against Eddie’s leg. 

“Well, I definitely need to shower now,” he declares. “But I’m still so fucking tired. I’ll be lucky if I even manage to undress, leave alone clean myself up.” 

Eddie stares at him. “What, seriously? Fifteen minutes ago, you were ready to fall asleep on me and now you want seconds?” 

“You got a problem with that?” Steve winks, tangling their hands together and pulling him off the bed and towards the bathroom. “I thought my wish was your command.” 

And well … Eddie can’t really argue with that, can he? 

More smutty September

[pacifymebby]

Hi! I’m having a very hard time with anxiety at the moment I was wondering if you could do a peaky blinders characters (men) dealing with an anxious reader?

Hello lovely, I'm sorry to hear you're having a rough time at the moment and I hope these HCs can bring you a little comfort!! Anxiety is a rotter and when it gets bad it can feel v overwhelming I know that myself, so sending you lots of love and hugs and vibes <3

Slight nsfw in some places.

Tommy

🌿 When you first met eachother you both tried to hide your dark sides from one another. Tommy trying to hide his criminal activity, his brutal kill or be killed philosophy and his nihilistic world view which allows him to be so callous and cruel when he needs to be.

🌿 You were just trying to be the kind of woman that wouldn't irritate him. For as long as you could remember you'd been an anxious person, timid, easily scared, always caught up in your own spiralling thoughts, as skittish as a foal. You didn't want to get in Tommy's way, didn't want him to think you silly or hysterical...

🌿 So you tried so hard to pretend to be just like the other women in his life, women like Polly, Ada and Lizzy who you were sure feared nothing and nobody. Bold women who spoke their mind without fearing the consequences.

🌿And Tommy would try his best to play the gentle, gentleman. He'd do his best never to raise his voice around you, to always speak a little softer. Always being careful not to worry you, not to let you see his concern.

🌿 Though neither of you realised it for a little while, you were both hiding your true selves from one another because you could see right through one another's little acts.

🌿 Tommy could see the fear in your eyes every time you entered a room, he could see how you did the same as him - checked for every exit, every potential threat, every place to hide. Except he could tell you were seeing threats he wasn't. He knew you weren't like Ada or Lizzie or Polly from the moment he first laid eyes upon you and talking to you, getting close to you, seeing the way you struggled to force yourself to look him in the eye only to tear your gaze away seconds later, well that only confirmed his suspicions.

🌿 And you knew all about Thomas Shelby, infamous ganster, the war hero who threw his medals into the cut, a man quite opposite to you, never fearful, always feared. So his gentleness towards you confused you, made your head spin, left you so bewildered and perhaps slightly paranoid that you were falling victim to one of his tricks, that despite your best efforts you couldn't live up to the ferocity and strong willed reputation of those other women at Shelby Company Limited.

🌿 So despite his best efforts to be kind and careful Tommy Shelby still scares you and you find your anxiety so hard to control around him...

🌿 And though anxious women aren't usually his type he's so drawn to you, his need to rescue you is too strong to ignore. You remind him of a baby bird, a little twitchy and nervous, delicate and precious. All he wants is to pick you up off the ground and treasure you. Make you feel safe all the time.

🌿 He knows exactly how dangerous the world can be for women like you so he can't ignore his protective urge, can't ignore his desire to have you and take care of you...

🌿 Much to your torment then he refuses to let you alone, you can feel his eyes on you whenever you're in the room with him, he never strays far from you and you feel self-conscious worrying what he must think of you being so timid so often.

🌿 But all Tommy can think about when he sees you shying away from others is how he can protect you, how he can get you to feel safe around him... he wants to be the person you feel safe around, the one you look to in a busy room to keep you grounded and calm...

🌿 Deep down Tommy probably knows he should stay away from you, keep you away from his world where you will be in danger all the time, but in true Tommy fashion he thinks he's the only person on the planet that knows how you feel, the only person who could possibly take care of you and be everything you need.

🌿 Very quickly learns the things which seem to set you off, the daily household tasks which you struggle with most and has them taken care of for you... He doesn't say anything to you about this, just quietly deals with all the things he knows cause you dread... It won't necessarily help you get better but he doesn't care so much about forcing you to get better, not if he can keep you happy by taking the stresses away.

🌿 He uses words of reassurance when he can tell you're anxious, he will go over plans meticulously with you if he thinks it will help. However he can tell when that won't help, when you simply need to be told not to worry about a thing. "Don't you think about that now sweetheart, you let me do the thinking on this one eh, when have I ever let you down before eh? Everything's under control, there isn't one single thing you could think of I haven't already thought of so just you shut your eyes, take a nice deep breath, and relax eh? For me?"

🌿 Tommy's very good at talking you down from your anxiety, he'll pull you in close to him, his arms gentle around your waist, his lips right beside your ear as he murmurs reassurance and love to you.

🌿 He will always speak so gently and so carefully to you, holding your hands or your cheeks in his hands, lightly stroking his thumb over your skin to sooth you. He will play with your hair and tuck it behind your ear, stroking your cheek. All these soft affectionate little touches to keep your attention on him and the present moment.

🌿 "Look at me angel, you look at me when I'm talking to you so I know you're listening to me right?" you're so often too timid to look him in the eye when he speaks to you that he always makes sure to get close to you, tilts your chin up so you're looking up at him, and when you try to drag your gaze away he chuckles softly, "cmon y/n I know you're not afraid of me..."

🌿 He always feels guilty when he has to host busy parties because he knows they'll have your nerves in pieces so he always makes sure to come and rescue you, sneak you off for a breather... he'll cut into the conversation you're having, "My apologies, may I borrow y/n for a moment..." with no intention of bringing you back. It always makes you jump because he always seems to sneak in out of nowhere but when you turn around and see him your heart sings!

🌿 He will take you down to the stables, or off into the gardens. The stables is your favourite however, and his too. He thinks its amusing, to sneak down their in your finery, the two of you dressed to the nines stepping through the hay. He'll place you down on a hay bale and admire the view, how pretty you look with your dress and your jewellery, all silky and sweet... and shy. Then he'll sit down beside you and take your hands in his and he'll apologise for putting you through another party. "Y'know I hate these things too, I'd happily burn that bloody ballroom down right now..." he'll be trying to make you giggle, trying to relax you.

🌿 He'll make you dance with him in the stables, sometimes in silence sometimes humming to you... He'll have you resting against him, your feet balancing on top of his to save your little slippers from getting dirtied. And he'll turn you in slow circles, kissing you every now and then, talking to you quietly about how lovely it will be later when everyone else has "fucked off to their own homes eh..."

🌿 Deep down he knows he can't protect you from everything however it's what he tells you all the time, and he definitely believes that himself too, he's determined you'll never be anxious again... But obviously thats not how anxiety works and when he can see that your anxiety has been building and building with no outlet for too long he has other methods of alleviating your stress... Tommy knows that sometimes the only way to dispel that sickening physical anxiety you feel is to scream...

🌿 So when its all becoming too much for you he takes you out riding on his fastest, wildest horse (not so wild of course that he can't control it and keep you safe, simply wild enough that you have the impression of being in a little danger) hell have you sitting in front of him, his arms either side of you caging you in securely, and he'll take you racing across the moors so fast it snatches your breath from you, you'll be screaming, heart racing, adrenaline surging through your body but by the end of it you'll be laughing and rosy cheeked and you'll feel safe in the knowledge that Tommy is there to keep you safe always.

🌿 He'll help you down from the horse and place you down on the grass somewhere in the middle of nowhere, hold you lying back against his chest whilst the two of you get your breath back. And knowing Tommy he'll try to give you some wise little speech about managing your emotions, about how your mind has a way of working against you sometimes, that he doesn't know why it happens - probably because it thinks its helping you to survive- but that sometimes it does and its alright as long as you can reason with yourself, know when your mind is lying to you.

🌿 He takes you down to the stables to meet the new foal and teaches you how to talk to her without spooking her, you watch him in awe as he whispered to her gently and coaxes the timid creature to him, and he turns back to you, his knuckles still brushing the foals face, "see, you're not the only one y/n, she like her peace and quiet too..." he teased beckoning you over to meet her, "here we are girl, brought someone to say hello, there there now don't be shy, it's alright girl, it's alright... This is y/n, she's just like you eh... So she's gonna take good care of you, cause she knows exactly how you feel..."

🌿 Yes, Tommy thinks horses cure everything.

🌿 If you get bad anxiety at night which stops you from sleeping he doesn't mind you joining him in his study. He hardly sleeps anyway and he knows it comforts you to be in his presence. So he keeps a blanket in his study and a rocking chair with cushions for you to curl up. He'll make you something warm to drink or offer you a nightcap and he'll let you sit up with him whilst he works quietly, the two of you in a comfortable silence until you drift off. He always makes sure to carry you to bed when you do eventually fall asleep and often your drifting off is what reminds him he needs sleep too. So you always wake up snuggled up beside him in the morning.

🌿 He'll read to you when you're worn out, or on the days when your anxiety has paralysed you and you can't muster the energy or the stillness of mind to leave your bed. He'll pull the covers back and rest your head in lap, get you wrapped up in the duvet and then sit reading to you, one hand in your hair fingers tangling with your locks as he strokes your hair.

🌿 "it's funny ain't it y/n, when people talk about Thomas Shelby they don't tend to talk about a gentle man...but this is what you've made of me ain't it... This is what you've done to me..."

🌿 Tommy will talk you up in a very measured but determined way, when you're anxious about yourself he will remind you of all your strengths and he'll reassure you that your perceived weaknesses are not weaknesses at all. "Everybody has weaknesses sweetheart, it's all about knowing how to light them up just right..." He's always reassuring you that the things you perceive as weaknesses, such as your anxious nature, are strengths when looked at from a certain angle.

🌿 And he'll never let you put yourself down, whenever you do start letting your demons get the better of you, he'll let you get it all off your chest but he'll never entertain your concerns, he'll be short and sweet about it, "It's funny you know hearing you say all of that with all of that conviction love, cause none of it's true is it?"

🌿 He never fails to let you know how proud of you he is. He's very fatherly in the way he guides you through challenges, always there to give you that little nod of encouragement, the hand on your pack to push you a pace forward when you hesitate. The warm smile, the quiet "atta girl" when you impress not only him but yourself too.

Alfie

🐻 You were Camden born and raised and your family were close with Mr Solomons. He'd known you since you were young and he'd watched a once somewhat precocious child grow to be timid, withdrawn and terribly reserved.

🐻 When you come to work for him as a secretary (a favour to your father who fears sending his timid daughter to work for strangers) Alfie is somewhat relieved to know he'll be able to keep an eye on you. Because he's always been fond of you... Your anxious nature has always brought out his tender side and despite everything, Alfie likes having someone to be soft with...

🐻 And he is so soft with you... It's almost embarrassing the way he treats you in comparison to everyone else and you're certain there's some resentment among the bakers because Alfie never raises his voice at you, never speaks sharply or cruelly to you. You get away with every mistake you make - and that's many because your anxiety has you so deeply in your own thoughts that often your fear of fucking up is what makes you fuck up.

🐻 But Alfie never seems to lose patience with you, he's always there to pick you up, guide you gently, fix your mistakes. "Never mind ziskeit, ain't no point crying over spilt milk... Although this here bread is a little more expensive than milk ain't it... Never you mind though yeah cause thats my problem ain't it, ain't your problem... You come with me yeah, into my office for minute, I'll get you a glass of somethin nice for those nerves of yours and we'll see you're feeling right as rain in no time at all my darlin..." he says putting his arm around your shoulder and guiding you away out of sight from any onlookers.

🐻 he can't help the affectionate way he feels towards you when he can feel you shaking like a little bird and the way he chuckles and says, "look at you, shakin like a little leaf caught in a very bad storm" makes you blush something chronic.

🐻 "Ain't no good at all that is it, nah ziskeit that won't do at all... We'll have to sort this out right away won't we, ain't no time to lose if you ask me..." he'd be tutting and studying your features, pinching your cheek until you smile, looking up at him shyly from under your lashes.

🐻 you've never been scared of Alfie Solomons, you've always known he was a friend to you, but that's not to say he didn't once intimidate you... When you first started working for him you used to jump out of your skin every time he spoke to you, and when he shouted at the bakers or when you could hear him ripping into someone in his office when a meeting had gone south well, he terrified you...Once... Not anymore...

🐻 Because whenever he saw you flinch at his raised voice he would apologise to you quietly, whenever he realised you'd probably overheard the goings on in his office, he'd have you brought to him and he'd spin you some yarn about the bad men he'd sent running for the hills. And he'd always take your cheek in his hand and stroke his thumb over your lips so gently when he spoke to you, told you that there was nothing for you to be worried about, that you'd find yourself held hypnotised by him. It would be impossible not to believe him and so you learned to look to him as your protector pretty quickly. He wouldn't have had it any other way.

🐻 He thinks you're like a baby bird and he tells you all the time, especially when he wants to tease you or see you blush. When he really wants to tease you he'll remind you what a precious young lady you used to be, he'll bring up all the times you gave the younger him a piece of your mind... "And some mind it is ziskeit, fuckin only God knows how scared of you I am..." he's only joking with you but the way he shudders makes you believe him. The wistful look he gets when he talks about the girl you used to be isn't lost on you though and you know he often wonders what happened to see you shrink into yourself the way that you have...

🐻 You're always anxious about getting in the way or frustrating him and so you almost always start your sentences with "sorry" and if you don't start your sentence with sorry it's because your sentence ends with "sorry" sometimes you start and finish a sentence with the word sorry... It drives Alfie up the wall and he makes a rule about "all this saying sorry unnecessarily when there ain't nothin to be sorry for..."

🐻 Whenever you apologise to him he gives you a little warning look, light-hearted enough but enough of a look that it stops you in your tracks. "Now now ziskeit, just what was it we agreed about that word?" "Uh.. if, if I say it I have to explain it?" "Right yeah, yeah that does sound familiar don't it... Yeah I'd say that is what we agreed... So... y/n ain't you gonna tell me then what you are saying sorry for today?" "Uh..." you always trail off because you never really know, saying sorry is just an anxious tick, one of those words which just slips out because you never really feel like you're doing the right thing...

🐻 "Right... Yeah, now thats exactly what I thought you might do y/n... That little trail off you just did there yeah, that's because you don't really know what you're saying sorry for right... And you know the reason you don't really know what you're saying sorry for yeah, is that there ain't no reason for you to be sorry at all..."

🐻 Naturally you open your mouth to say sorry, freezing with your lips parted halfway through the word when you realise what you're about to say... Alfie doesn't need to say anything, he'll just use his thumb to close your lips and give you a gentle pat on the cheek... "There..." he'll say softly, "that's better right, no more saying sorry... You ain't gotta be sorry to me for nothin ziskeit..."

🐻 Theatrical reassurance at the very least, this man will give you speech after speech after speech about how you should never be worried he's not going to want to see you, or talk to you, or be too busy for you, or be angry with you or anything... "Because you see ziskeit, and this is the thing right, this should have been inscribed by the finger of God on Moses' stones yeah... You are the light of my fuckin life right, and there ain't a single thing on this forsaken earth, not a single thing that could ever taint you in my eyes right... I am yours and you are mine and so that shall forever be..."

🐻 He likes to make you repeat that last bit for him everyday, just to make sure it really sinks in.

🐻 Alfie only teases you because he wants to try and build your confidence, he wants to coax that cheeky nature he knows you have out of hiding. So he gets a little playful with you sometimes, tricking you into letting your guard down, showing you it's alright to be yourself when you're with him.

🐻 Alfie praises you so much, he wants to make sure you know exactly how wonderful, how clever, how important to him you are... And the praise always makes you blush and shy away which is an added bonus for him because he thinks you're very pretty when you blush. He's always telling you how brave you are too, reminding you that you're ten times as brave as he is because you get through so many things that scare you, and you face every day even when every day things make you feel like hiding away for ever.

🐻 "As long as you ain't hiding from me my little ziskeit"

🐻 When you're feeling horribly anxious and sick Alfie will wrap you up tight in his arms, squeezing you in a big bear hug so that your body is pressed close to his snug and secure and he won't let go even when you try to pull away. He'll hold onto you and stroke your hair, lift you up off your feet. You can bury your face in his shirt or the crook of his neck and close your eyes or cry or just breathe in the smell of him to your heart's content.

🐻 He understands that you tire quickly, "I don't know my ziskeit look at you, gone an worn yourself out again... Come over here and rest awhile yeah, come curl up by the fire with your old man..."

🐻 He likes to have you curled up in his lap, the two of you sitting in his armchair by the fire in the lowlight of the evening or late at night when you can't sleep. The two of you will be listening to the crackle of the fire with Cyril curled up at your feet.

🐻 Alfie always pretends to be grumpy when Cyril, sensing your anxiety, abandons Alfie in favour of you. The sooky lump will plop his head down in your lap and nuzzle you until he gets your attention, draws you out of your negative thoughts to pet him instead... And Alfie will grumble and say things like "oh I might have known you'd abandon me - your devoted and loyal master for her you rotten old sook" but really he'll be glad to see Cyril offering you comfort, glad to see the smile warm your features when you begin defending Cyril, telling him not to listen to that grumpy old man who doesn't know anything.

🐻 "Oh is that what you think of me now ziskeit? Two betrayals in one evening, my godforsaken heart is in pieces, torn to shreds, you cruel cruel girl..."

🐻 At night he sleeps on his side with you nuzzled in beside him, his arm wrapped around you tight, the weight of his body leant gently against yours relaxing you as you fall asleep.

🐻 If ever any of the bakers do step out of line and snap at you, or if ever he hears them complaining that "that fuckin number girls always getting special treatment.." then Alfie likes to make a display of them, humiliating them in front of the rest of the men so that no one else will ever step out of line. "You wanna come up here and say that again?" He asks tapping on a barrel with his cane, making them get up on top to "present your thoughts to the room yeah? Cause not everyone heard you the first time and well, I'm sure it was important wasn't it... So I'm sure you'd like everyone to know exactly what you said just now about our y/n..."

🐻 And of course no man's ever stupid enough to get up there and repeat themselves. They only ever get as far as climbing up onto the barrel, hands trembling cause they're sure whatever comes next is going to hurt...

🐻 "Right... Yeah... Fuckin silence... Yeah I thought that might happen I did... You see your problem yeah mate, is that in this world right you've gotta pick one of two things right, you can either be fuckin stupid, or a fuckin coward... Now you can't be both right, you can't be both..."

🐻 Safe to say that what does follow makes sure they never say a word again.

🐻 When you do put yourself down, or he finds you getting yourself all worked up about a mistake you made or worrying that you're not good enough he will coax you over to him, get you as close to him as he can whether that's sitting you in his lap or towering above you, your body trapped between him and the wall, his knuckles beneath your chin..

🐻 "Now now my little ziskeit, what exactly have I told you about saying all these nasty, cruel things about yourself yeah? Now I wouldn't let anyone else get away with saying those sorts of 'orrible things about you would I? So how am I supposed to sit back and listen to all that without doing something about it? Will you tell me that ziskeit?"

🐻 Alfie can talk the hind legs off a donkey any day but when it comes to saying positive things about his lass he could talk for days, and he doesn't stop, all these meandering sentences laced with your praises, laced with teasing little threats too to warn you off ever saying those cruel things about yourself again... "Next time I catch you saying 'orrible things about yourself my girl I'll have to make sure you remember the rules right?"

Arthur

🍂 At a glance and certainly judging from his reputation you might assume that Arthur Shelby hasn't got an anxious bone in his body. That he's never experienced anything close to the full body panic which grips you at the slightest sense of uncertainty...

🍂 Especially because Arthur is well aware of the reputation he has as a blazé trigger happy thug and just how important it is that he keeps that reputation up... Arthur makes a show of being reckless, of brushing off everyone else's concerns with a shrug of his shoulders...

🍂 No matter what it is you're worrying about, no matter what it is that has your head spinning and foggy so that you can't think straight for all the fuzz, Arthur always says the same thing...

🍂 "Now don't you worry about a thing my love, nowt bads gonna happen to you my darlin, you're with the peaky blinders, everything's gonna go your way"

🍂 And sometimes it's enough to see someone else so confident, so self assured, sometimes his high energy levels, his apparent through the roof self esteem is enough to lift you out of your anxious pit... Enough to settle your nerves... Because if there's one person you know is always going to win a fight, always going to protect you... It's your Arthur...

🍂 But sometimes it's not enough and seeing him shrug off your worries just upsets you, makes you all the more scared... Makes you worry about other things you hadn't been worrying about before... Like what if you're too meak for him what if he's going to get sick of having a lass who's so "cowardly" and "pathetic"....

🍂 And because you're upset but also worrying about these other things you'll try not to show it. Try to keep it all bottled up, you get quieter, you start avoiding him (which is difficult because Arthur doesn't like to go a day without seeing you!) Trying your best to stay out of his way... Sometimes when you watch him, the way his confidence, his outrageous personality take over a room, the way he snatches up everyone's attention so easily, so proudly, makes you feel a little unworthy of him...

🍂 You love to see him so buzzed and lit up but it makes you a little sad because you know you can never be the same, you think you could never have that kind of spark, that ballsy charisma... That in comparison to him you're nothing but a timid little mouse that most people wouldn't even notice...

🍂 But the thing is Arthur knows more than anyone just what you feel like, how torn up and terrified you feel on the inside, because more often than not Arthur feels it too! He's always so so scared of letting everyone down, scared that he's too much, too volatile, too unpredictable, that he's going to put the family at risk by being stupid, by making the wrong move or by letting his fear and PTSD "get the better of him"

🍂 He's spent years trying to bottle all those emotions up just like Tommy always told him, have a drink and push the feelings down... Grit his teeth through the pain... But he can't. And so he knows just how you feel and he wishes he could find a good way to tell you but he isn't any good with words, so instead he tries his best to help you when he can through his actions.

🍂 Arthur wishes he could hug and kiss your troubles away, wishes that one lingering forehead kiss could cure your nerves, soothe those shivers... But he knows it can't... still that doesn't stop him from trying. He's a little clumsy sure, sometimes he makes you jump when he puts his arms around you and squeezes you tight sure, but nothing can make you feel better like one of Arthur's "everything will be alright" hugs. His mustache tickling your cheek as he kisses you and tries to reassure you, tries to soften his gruff tone for you talking as quietly as he can in your ear.

🍂 Arthur hates seeing you cry, hates seeing you look so scared but you so often do and it hurts his soul to see you in pain, he will do anything he can to try and make you feel better and so he is always bringing you little gifts, always trying to tell bad jokes to make you laugh, always trying to offer you reassurance... Although he doesn't like to focus on the things that make you anxious, he'd rather brush them off so that perhaps you won't give the thoughts so much gravity.

🍂 When you do look up at him with teary eyes though and he realises his assurances aren't working the way that he wants them to he'll take your cheeks in his rough palms and hold your face as carefully as he can, he brushes your tears away with his thumbs and presses a long kiss to your forehead. "Come on now my darlin don't you cry, no tears eh you're with me ain't you, so everythings alright... I know I ain't the friendliest man but you know I'll always look after you eh, you're my girl ain't you, so I'll always look after you..."

🍂 The first time you have a panic attack in front of him you're terrified he's going to think you're insane, scared that he'll think you're hysterical and slap you the way men often do to hysterical women, but when he sees you shaking, the tears streaming down your cheeks as you drop to the floor he recognises the emotional agony in you as something he's been through himself many times before...

🍂 And so he knows exactly what you need, how you need someone to be careful and gentle with you, how you need to be held, your head cradled to him as he gets down on the floor with you, slips his legs beneath yours and bundles you carefully into his lap. He keeps you close to him, reassuring you, telling you to breathe with him, telling you it will pass soon enough and that he's with...

🍂 "Salright my darlin I've got you ain't I, I'm here and I ain't goin nowhere, you're gonna be alright eh, I'm here... Me an you eh, we'll get through this together won't we..."

🍂 He lets you cling to him like your life depends on him, and in that moment it really feels like it does, like he's the only thing grounding you, like without him this horrible feeling would swallow you whole and trap you in a nightmare forever. But Arthur won't ever let that happen to you.

🍂 He'd kiss your hair and rock you, hold onto you for as long as you needed, he'd shush your crying but he'd let you get it all out of your system because he knows how awful it feels to be told to swallow it down.

🍂 And when you were ready he'd ask you what happened, what sent you spiralling and if you wanted to speak he'd listen, concentrating hard so that he can remember every detail, so that he can try and stop it from happening in the future.

🍂 But if you didn't want to talk about it that would be alright too, he'd make a little joke "shit at talkin anyway are I..." he'd wink, hoping to draw a smile on your tear stained cheeks. He'd be so gentle with you, wiping your tears away and then laughing at the dirt he's accidentally smeared across your cheeks.

🍂 He is unfortunately the king of unhealthy coping mechanisms and he would absolutely think he was doing a good thing pouring you a whisky for your nerves... He'll pour the both of you a glass and sit down beside you on the floor, he'll clink them together and help steady your hand as you take a tentative sip.

🍂 When you try to apologise for being dramatic he'll get annoyed, he'll try not to snap at you but it'll certainly come out as a grumble when he tells you not to talk "any of that shite..." It's only because he doesn't want you to put yourself down, only because he hates the people who would let you believe that you were being hysterical or dramatic.

🍂 And then he'll confess that he knows how you feel, knows what that feels like when you feel like the whole worlds ending, that he wouldn't wish that feeling on his worst enemy... That he's only sorry he couldn't do more to help you through it... That you're to tell him if that ever happens to you again because he never wants you to go through it on your own...

🍂 You're really quite shocked to know that your Arthur does in fact have his fair share of fears and doubts but him being honest with you helps build the trust between you so that it runs all the deeper and you become accustomed to depending on him, turning to him whenever you feel even the slightest hint of anxiety.

🍂 He's always there to reassure you that you're perfect the way you are, that you aren't getting in his way, that of course he loves you just the way you are, that you're not letting anyone down... And having someone look up to him the way that you do, does wonders to his own self esteem, knowing he's got someone who depends on him, who trusts him, thinks the world of him, thinks he's the bravest person they know, makes him feel fucking brave and dependable and strong.

🍂 At parties and late nights down the Garrison he'll order your drinks for you, he'll keep you tucked up under his arm all night and he'll introduce you to more of those unhealthy coping mechanisms (staying up all night, drinking, smoking, dancing.... having rough risky sex in other people's bathrooms whilst dazzlingly drunk)

🍂 Will not however let you touch the snow because "see that stuff right it's fuckin amazin but it's fuckin horrible stuff an all, devils stuff, tricks you right, makes you feel on top of the fucking world and then it drops you down in bloody hell and abandons you there and I don't ever wanna see you endin up there my darlin..."

🍂 And if anyone ever says anything about how quiet you are, or how youre always hiding away, how you ain't much of a peaky blinder, Arthur will shoot them that warning look, silencing them in seconds. His eyes growing dark, threatening, looking to the culprit with unforgiving malice in his eyes.

🍂 So people quickly learn that if they haven't got anything nice to say about you they'd better not say anything at all. And the more time you spend with Arthur the more his wild side rubs off on you... Your anxiety never disappears, but some things do get easier with your Arthur by your side because you know he'll never abandon you or let you fall back into that darkness again.

🍂 And Arthur finds that his own anxieties are quelled too, that through loving you he learns that he can be soft, gentle, kind, nurturing, all the things he thought he was incapable of... He learns that he isn't the monster he has grown to believe himself to be... That he has a heart just like any other man, that he is loving.

John

🌼 Now John really doesn't have an anxious bone in his body. If he wants something he goes after it never stopping to question whether he's got ideas above his station, never stopping to question whether or not people will still like him if he prioritises his own needs...

🌼 That's the polar opposite of you and you know people must wonder why you're together, what he sees in you... Why he hasn't left you for someone more suitable, someone a little more fierce...

🌼 Because it is obvious, to everyone, how different you two are and even though John lives in his little world of optimism, despite his own lackadaisical nature, even he's noticed the way your shoulders are always tense, the way you hold onto things too tightly. The way you never stop counting the little ones, even when it's just the family at home.

🌼 At first he thought you were just an attentive mammy, but he's seen the fear in your eyes when you miscount because you're tired, or when one of the kids is hiding under the kitchen table and you lose sight of them for a moment. He's seen how quickly you pale and think the worst, how the tears rush to your eyes...

🌼 And he's felt the way you jump sometimes when you're tired and he's crossed the kitchen to your side a little quieter than usual, when you weren't expecting his arm to snake around your waist to pull you away from the dirty dishes and into him.

🌼 The way sometimes your eyes get this distant fear in them and you stop hearing the things people say to you because youve been sucked into another hole of anxious thoughts spiralling out of control in your mind...

🌼 He'd been drawn to you because you seemed so quiet and sweet, because you blushed every time he spoke to you, because you always looked so lost for words whenever he asked you a question or tried to tease you... You'd been unlike any other woman he'd ever been romantically interested in and that had felt like a challenge... A fun little game to play...

🌼 But the more he'd gotten to know you and understand the kind of lass you really were, the more the urge to protect you, sweep you up off your feet and soothe your worries, grew. The more he wanted to be the one you depended on. The one who could get you to relax a little, the one you felt safe around. He just wanted to give you a warm, loving home where you would feel safe...

🌼 He's so cheeky and always teasing you and his jovial nature makes it hard not to trust that everything will be alright, he believes that so firmly himself afterall... Sometimes his laidback nature is too much and you get stressed he doesn't seem to be planning or taking things seriously enough, however when you do snap or cry he can reassure you completely. Hugs, forehead kisses, an easy laugh as he pats your cheek and tells you everything's under control.

🌼 He will always step up to be the life of a conversation or party so that you don't have to, he'll include you in the conversation by slinging his arm around your shoulder and squeezing you into his side, occasionally looking down at you to lock eyes when he makes a teasing comment or a joke made only for you... Has a way of making you involved even when youre shying away from the conversation.

🌼 He's really proud of you, his "beautiful, beautiful flower!" And will shower you with praise all the time, he'll never let you or anyone else forget how important you are and he's always singing your praises, telling everyone what a brilliant mammy you are and how much the kids (and him) adore you, he won't let you or anyone else doubt you for a second!

🌼 He's a very chaotic man, very spirited, and boyish... He often takes a joke to far or gets a little too boisterous, and sometimes when you're feeling easily overwhelmed, senses working overtime, it can all get a little too much and John has to calm down so that he can calm you...

🌼 Sometimes John swears he can see your pulse racing in your throat as your eyes flicker around the room. You're constantly counting the little ones to make sure they're all there... He'll joke with you, come up behind you, hands on your shoulders giving you a little massage all "Relax would you sweetheart, this is a party... You don't need to worry about the kids we're all family here, they're perfectly safe..."

🌼 But when he bows his head to steal a quick kiss from your neck he really does feel how your pulse is racing and your body is shaking and when you turn to him with tears in your eyes he's really taken back.

🌼 "What is it love what's the matter?" Of course the moment he realises how frightened you are he stops his teasing, his brows knitting to a frown, his hand leaving you and reaching into the back of his pants for the gun he keeps tucked away just in case... "Is something wrong?" He asks in that tone which you know is reserved for only the most serious of situations and you feel so ashamed and embarrassed because this isn't a dangerous situation at all, you know it's not...

🌼 So you shake your head quickly and push away from him apologies tumbling out of your mouth quietly but dramatically, much more dramatically than you'd like... "Sorry... S.. sorry John this is just... Too much it's too much..." and just like that you're fleeing, out of the crowded kitchen and into the garden where the rain has sent the mud flowing over the stone path.

🌼 When these sorts of things happen and you run away from him in a panic, John sobers up to the situation pretty quickly, following after you, losing that boisterous streak, softening for you because he knows you need his softer side...

🌼 He'll find you outside in the rain and try to shield you from the weather with his body as best you can, gathering you towards the shade of a tree or the awnings of the roof. Somewhere out the rain, somewhere it can be just the two of you.

🌼 He'll wipe your tears with his sleeves and hold your face in his hands gently guiding your gaze up to meet his, "Why'd you runaway from me flower?" He asks even though he knows the answer now, realises that you had one of those moments where everything just became too much for you, the busy room, the noise of the party, the chatter, bodies having to squeeze by one another and around the furniture... It had all been too much and for a moment you'd lost yourself... And he hadn't noticed your panic until it was too late so he'd not been able to help...

🌼 "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't see it..." he'd sigh brushing your tears with his knuckles, pushing your hair from your face and kissing your forehead before giving you a warm gentle hug, completely surrounded your body with his as he holds you close. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, nuzzling into his shirt as he holds you steady and still. You feel better just for having his arms around you outside in the rain.

🌼 The garden is so peaceful, the pitter patter of the rain off the cobbles, and as John holds you close you feel yourself begin to calm down, your shoulders relax and your head stops spinning. You don't feel so sick anymore and you rest your body against his.

🌼 He doesn't like it when you try to say sorry after your "moments" as he calls them, doesn't like to see you looking guilty when he blames himself for you getting overwhelmed. He'll always tell you, "wasn't your fault sweetheart, don't say sorry for things that ain't your fault..." and then he'll make you promise that next time you'll find him before it gets too much so that he can rescue you in time.

🌼 John is very sensual, and whilst he might be a little boisterous and laddish his healing/love language is definitely physical touch... The signs of your anxiety which he notices first are always physical and his first instinct is always to try to soothe these physical signs...

🌼 He'll run you a hot bath for the two of you to share when the kids are all asleep (he'll have made up some silly story to keep them all in bed and quiet too) and he'll have you lie down between his legs, your head resting in the crook of his shoulder.

🌼 He'll run his hands over your shoulders and down your arms, massaging you in all the places you feel tender and sore, all the places he can feel tension...

🌼He'll bathe you, washing you gently, washing your hair and brushing it for you, wrapping you up in towels afterwards, carrying you to bed, smothering you in kisses, tickling and teasing you, physically relaxing you completely... Hovering above you in bed, scattering kisses along your shoulders up your neck to your lips...

🌼 John definitely knows exactly how to fuck the tension out of you and he's very talented when it comes to replacing that anxious head spinning fuzz with a blissed out kind of cloudiness instead.

🌼 If your adrenaline is all fired up and you've been restless and anxious all day he will have you lie across his lap, or have you sit between his legs so that he can let his fingers tease and then fuck that anxious adrenaline out of you...

🌼 He knows exactly how to take care of you when he's physically tired you out, scooping you up in his arms, letting you sleep with your head on his chest, his fingers stroking soothing patterns on your back until you fall asleep. .

🌼 He's always taking on that patriarchal roll, reminding you that he's your man, that that means it's his job to take care of you and look after you... So you can trust him to do just that...

🌼 "I'm your man eh, so trust me..." He'll say holding your cheeks in his palms, close enough to you that his nose is brushing yours as he looks at you not quite serious and not quite joking either. He'll pat your cheek and flash you a winning smile and when he's feeling particularly cheeky and he can tell he hasn't quite won you over he will bring the kids into it too...

🌼 "Katie love come 'ere for a second sweetheart, come say hello to your mammy..." he'll say scooping her up in his arms so that she's resting on his hip between the two of you. "Katie love, dya trust your daddy?" He'll flash you a cheeky smile when she giggles because you both knew she was going to say "Yeah!" Before he'd even asked the questio. "See flower... Katie trusts daddy, so you can trust him too eh"

🌼 John will absolutely make the most inappropriate dad jokes to try and lighten your mood and even when you feel sick with anxiety you can't help but smirk at some of them. They're terrible.

🌼 Whenever you put yourself down John never seems to take it too seriously, not because he doesn't care that you don't think very much of yourself but instead because he can't imagine a world in which any of the things you say are true... He'll laugh your negative self talk off light-heartedly, shake his head, hold your face in his hands as he gives you a kiss and says "sweetheart if you believe all that you're crazier than I thought..."

Bonnie

🍀Is such an observant lad that he tuned into your anxious ways within moments of resting eyes upon you. The way you would sit fidgeting, never able to look at anyone around you for fear they'd meet your gaze, the way he often saw you tugging on your sleeves or chewing your cheek, biting at the tip of your thumb or your cardigan hem.

🍀He saw how you would shy away from others, how you tended to keep to yourself and that if you ever did cross paths with someone else you only ever seemed to manage the word "sorry" as if you were apologising just for being near them..

🍀 He recognises the fear in your eyes when people start gossiping about the peaky blinders, notices how whenever you meet his gaze accidentally you try to hide yourself away... You seem so timid to him, so delicate... All he wants is to take your hand and show you you don't have to be so frightened all the time.

🍀 He's careful, watching you the way he'd watch a foal before trying to approach it, learning your anxieties by watching how you interact with others so that he knows how to go about befriending you without scaring you off.

🍀Watches over you from afar like the guardian angel you don't even know you have... If he hears someone ask you to go into the forest to collect some herbs, or into the city to buy bread, he will come to your rescue either by insisting he take you himself or simply by sneaking off to complete the errand before you even had the chance to start it.

🍀 He gifts you something like a rabbits foot or a four leaf clover to give you good luck and protection, tells you you're his lucky charm too. Something small and sweet that wouldn't mean alot to anyone else but makes you feel that little bit braver when you're trying to face the world.

🍀 Brings you lavender which he makes into an essential oil for you. He knows a lot about different herbs and plants that can be good for relaxing/soothing you. His dad taught him to brew chamomile tea too, whenever he can tell you're having a bad day he'll make this for you without even needing to ask, he'll just bring it to you and force you to stop whatever it is you're trying to do/ fretting over to take a break with him instead.

🍀 He's seen the way your anxiety makes you irritable, seen you muttering to yourself I'm frustration when your day is going from bad to worse and he can't help but think you're adorable... Still, when he sees you snap his heart breaks for you and nothing can stop him coming to your rescue.

🍀It happens one day, you're only trying to fold the clean laundry, taking it down from the line and shaking it out, but the wind is making your task harder than you can handle, blowing your hair in your face, blowing the sheet into you blinding you so that you can't see where you're treading. And when you trip and fall and land clean white sheet down in the dirt you find you've reached the end of your tether and just like that you burst into tears.

🍀You're not crying because the sheets dirty, you're crying because finally all that anxiety and tension you've been trying to bottle up for days now has bubbled over, the shock of your fall and the frustration of the wind blowing you about was enough to send the rest of your emotions cascading down on you like a tonne of bricks. So you just sit there in a heap, crying in the dirt...

🍀Until Bonnie sits himself down beside you, a cheeky but careful smile on his lips as he reaches for your hand.

🍀"What're we doing down here then eh?" He asks, looking at you with gentle teasing eyes, showing you he understands without a word. You just look back at him despairingly, feeling so hopeless and frustrated, your eyes spilling over with tears. You raise the dirty sheet up in explanation and he chuckles. "Well I reckon this'll need washed again won't it, I certainly ain't sleepin on that..." he says taking your fingers and unlocking them from where you'd been clutching at the sheet.

🍀"Never you mind that though little dove," he says shuffling up to sit closer to you, his hand rubbing your back soothingly, "you ain't in any sort of state to be washin sheets are ye?" He'll tease you a little about your sorry state but only ever gently, and he'll never let you feel useless or like you're letting him down. He'll always make sure you understand that actually it's the complete opposite.

🍀 Pulls you up into his lap right there in the grass, holding your face in his hands so that he can look at you and dry your tears. Kisses your nose and then your lips. "S'alright little dove, don't worry about the washin eh, worry about spending the rest of your afternoon with me..." He'll help you with your chores, which probably would have made them take ten times longer, had you been in any state to do them at all.

🍀 Then when you're finished (or when he's finished, having done most of the work for you) he'll take your hand and lead you away from the camp, somewhere you can be alone for awhile. Somewhere no one can burden you with anything else.

🍀 He knows that one of the best things for your anxiety is to tire you out, physically rather than emotionally. So he takes you down to the river to go swimming, splashing you and playing with you in the stream until you're laughing and giggling. He'll sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around you, kissing your shoulders and pulling you back to float with him in the water. Holding you with your legs wrapped around his waste as he carries you back to the bank, lying with you in the grass as you dry off, peaceful and quiet...

🍀He'll have you to sit so quietly with him listening to the different sounds of the woods. He'll teach you the different bird calls and then get you to tell him in future when you're anxious, he'll ask you what bird it is he can hear and it will force you to be grounded for a moment. Lights up with praise when you get it right.

🍀 You'll be lying with him in the grass, the sunlight through the trees warming you both as you dry, his hands wandering your body beneath the shirt he's lent you. His touch is so grounding and the way he holds you close to him makes you feel so safe and secure. He'll make up stories for you as you dry off, telling you tales about the forest, some of them silly to make you laugh, others romantic, about secret lovers stealing away between the trees. These stories are usually whispered in your ear between soft little kisses along your neck, sweet little distractions to take you as far from your anxieties as he can.

🍀 If you ever get the kind of anxiety which freezes you and makes it impossible for you to look after yourself properly Bonnie will excell at playing the patriarchal provider. He can cook and clean pretty well and he loves to look after you and spoil you anyway, so when he can see you're struggling he'll swoop in and save you without you having to ask. He makes you soup and serves it in your favourite mug then sit with you outside whilst you drink it together. He'll do things like wash and brush your hair when you're struggling and the feeling of him combing his fingers through your locks is so soothing for you both.

🍀 One of Bonnie's love languages is definitely physical touch and this is one of the only ways he knows how to sooth your anxieties. He is always showing you physical affection to let you know that he's there for you..

🍀Forehead kisses, hand holding, drawing circles round your palm, playing with your fingers to distract you. He likes to slip one arm around your waist or shoulders whenever you're standing together, holding your body against his so that you can feel him behind you. It's a protective thing, it doesn't just soothe your anxieties but also his. Makes him feel good to be looking after his girl.

🍀 When you're feeling anxious you have a habit of sucking your thumb or fingers, a lot of the time you don't notice yourself doing it but Bonnie knows that you don't like to be seen doing it by anyone else. That it embarrasses you because you think it makes you look childish. So as much as he thinks its kind of cute when you're sucking your thumb, if there's other people about he'll hold your hands and play with your fingers so that you don't suck your thumb.

🍀 Alone at night however, when he can tell you're struggling to calm yourself he will slip his thumb into your mouth for you to suck on him instead.

🍀When you go to sleep at night Bonnie has you sleep with your body on top of his so that your chest is against his and your heartbeat syncs up with his. He likes to be able to wrap his arms around you and hold you down against him, you using his body as your pillow, him able to kiss your hair as you drift asleep. It's the best place for you because it means you can feel him close to you and he knows he's right there if you need him.

🍀 He gives you soft but firm praise whenever you're alone together and you're anxious about your relationship or showing him affection. For as much as he finds your apparent shyness adorable, he wants you to feel safe enough to ask and tell him whatever you want. And he needs you to know how perfect you are to him, needs you to know that he's there for you always. So he's constantly offering you the reassurance you need and always there to tell you how proud of you he is or how good you've been.

🍀 "That's my girl, what did I tell you eh? Perfect little dove, that's what you are..." "Tell me what you need sweetheart, c'mon look at me darlin, talk to me... How can I help? There we go see, wasn't so hard was it dove? Good girl...."

Isaiah

🐀 Isaiah is not wonderful when it comes to recognising anxiety in other people. He just thinks you're a bit timid is all. A bit jumpy. He presumed it's because you know he's a blinder and that that makes your nervous. It takes a long time for him to realise that its anything more than that due to the simple reason that he's doesn't notice it himself and you are far too anxious to tell him about your troubles.

🐀 He affectionately nicknames you his "little mouse" and is always making teasing little remarks about how cute and mousy you are. It gets under your skin at first because you can't tell if he's taking the piss or if he means it when he says you're adorable... But Isaiah never stops, he's actually spurred on by the blush you get, the way your brow furrows into a little frown because you don't know what to say to him.

🐀 For all his teasing though he likes to try and keep an eye on you, make sure you're always at least still smiling. He's not shy about showing you he's there for you and you only either, he'll be next to you in every conversation, he'll answer for you when you hesitate or don't say anything at all. If ever you're talking and other people stop listening to you he's always there making eye contact and nodding, picking you up if others let you fall.

🐀 You spend a really long time hoping that your anxiety will just go away, that one day you'll wake up and you won't have that fuzzy sick feeling in your stomach which has a habit of paralysing you in social situations. But of course that's not how anxiety works and the longer you ignore it the worse it gets.

🐀 Until Isaiah does begin to notice that something is wrong. Because you're growing quieter, more mousy by the day and sometimes when you're out in public he swears he sees you searching for the quickest means of escape.

🐀 At first he doesn't know what to do about it, he can tell that you're troubled but he doesn't know how to get you to open up to him or admit that something is wrong. If you were anyone else, any other graft he would probably just leave you to it, wouldn't pry too much, wouldn't really be that interested in hearing your troubles... But you're not anyone else, you're you, and he has a strong patriarchal urge to protect you, take care of you.

🐀 So he has to be persistent. He tries to tease it out of you, tries to make relentless little jokes to force the issue, doing things which will leave you floundering in the hopes that you'll reach some kind of breaking point and have to explain yourself...

🐀 But it doesn't get that far because he can't stand the guilt he feels when he sees you start to get stressed out, when he sees your expression waver, your eyes growing watery, your hands beginning to tremble. So one day instead of making a dig at the way your hands are shaking when he's talking to you, he takes your hand in his instead. Holds it between both of his and let's out a little sigh.

🐀 "What's the matter love?" He honestly feels a little useless for having to ask, feels like really he ought to know without you telling him. After all you're his girl and he shouldn't be so clueless about your feelings. At least not as clueless as he is now. And of course you try to shrug your shoulders and pretend like everything's fine, you don't want to make him feel bad by admitting the truth.

🐀 But he isn't going to let you kid on and shrug him off so he shakes his head, his frown showing you he's being serious for once. "Don't give me that love, you're my girl ain't you, you tell me the truth..."

🐀 When you do try to tell him you struggle to get the words out, struggle to say it in a way that you think will make sense to him. But for all that Isaiah is often confident and cocky, he understands more than you realise. He knows how it feels to worry before he walks into a room, understands that edgy feeling of uncertainty.

🐀 And even if he can't exactly empathise, even if he knows he's never felt the fear you feel about entering social situations, never been frightened the way you are of busy rooms or men who raise their voices... That doesn't stop him from caring that you do feel that way, doesn't stop him wanting to help you...

🐀 He won't know exactly how he can help but he also won't be afraid to ask you what you need. "Let me help you darlin, tell me what you need..." He'll want you to tell him exactly what he can do to help and then he'll make sure he does every single thing. He surprisingly matter of fact about the whole thing.

🐀 He's kind of accepted that he doesn't get it therefore rather than question you when your anxiety starts playing up, or when you get anxious about something he thinks is actually pretty trivial, he just accepts that you feel the way you do and comes back with "well how can we make this easier?"

🐀 Please I know this is rogue but I really think if anyone was going to CBT you it could be Isaiah? I feel like he'd be really good at setting it all out like, he'll be the most "What is it you're worried will happen? Okay well, here is this other scenario which is pretty mundane but much more likely than all that you've just thought up... Cause if life was how you keep worrying it's gonna be, then I'd be pretty fuckin anxious all the time too Mouse..." I just think he'd be like, matter of fact, but light-hearted and jokey enough to actually really be able to help you rationalise and unlearn negative thought patterns... Which I understand sounds crazy because he's such a hothead in the show...

🐀 To add to that I think a modern day Isaiah would definitely take your anxiety seriously enough that he'd just straight up be like "well how can we get you the help you need?" And have 0 shame about taking you to a therapist or something, he'd be very clean cut about helping you feel better as quickly as possible.

🐀 I think he'd be an "any excuse to get his hands on you" type and would use "oh you're anxious in this social situation" as a reason to have you sitting on his lap, or have his arm around you. He'd never fail to pull the "oh you're so tense, come here..." Line and massage your shoulders just so he can get close to you.

🐀 Again, I think he'd definitely use sex as a de-stress technique too, I feel like he'd be very good at soothingly flirting with you until he manages to get you into his lap or into his bed, kissing your neck, gentle caresses over your body until your eyes flutter shut and you start to come out of your head and into the present moment where it's just you and him... He'd find a way to make you come undone and forget all your troubles.

🐀 It definitely boosts his ego having you always looking to him, dependent on him to look after you in situations which make your anxiety flare up. He loves being the one you come to at the end of a long day, loves the way it's him that makes you smile, your eyes light up, the little sigh of relief when you're finally returned to his arms. He's really proud of the fact that it's him that you turn to when you need help, and that it's him that you turn to for guidance.

🐀 When everything does get overwhelming and you just need to have a huge cry Isaiah will hold you so close, he'll stroke your hair and cradle your head to his chest, and he'll shush you and soothe you but he won't make you feel stupid for crying. In fact when you try to apologise for it he just makes light of it all, "sweetheart I'd be crying too if I had to deal with it, don't say sorry, reckon you're tougher than me..."

🐀 He's always the right amount of gentle and the right amount of joking about things... Most of the time. Sometimes he'll get the vibe wrong, not realise quite how wound up you are, make a joke at the wrong time which earns him a snapping at, or which tips you over the edge and makes you cry. He thinks it's funny when you get feisty because you're tense, but when you cry he feels so guilty and immediately drops any kind of joke so that he can give you a hug and try to make you feel better.

🐀 I feel like he'd be terrible at looking after you when you get "frozen" by your anxiety and you can't do normal household tasks like cooking a meal. Isaiah will certainly try his best to do all the things you usually do, but dinner is going to be a mess, and the kitchen is going to be a mess, but he's still going to do his best to look after you both as best he can.

Michael

☘️ If there's one man who really understands emotional turmoil it's Michael, his experiences in childhood mean he's familiar with anxiety/depression and that means he recognises all the symptoms in you pretty quickly.

☘️ Only thing is he's not much of a talker... He learnt at a pretty early age to repress all his negative, difficult feelings, to ignore emotional problems and just "be a man" but that's not what he wants for you. So it breaks his heart to recognise you struggling but not know how to talk to you about it or try to help.

☘️ So he uses his money and social power to make your life as easy as possible. He'll use his status with the peaky blinders to intimidate others into being nice to you, your boss at work, coworkers, family members, shopkeepers etc... anyone he thinks might not treat you as delicately as he believes you should be treated. If he ever hears of someone raising their voice at you he makes sure they pay.

☘️ He'll make excuses to be as much a part of your life as he possibly can be, that way he can assess the different ways he thinks you might be struggling so that he can throw more money at the problems... Paying for extra housekeepers, for food, for new clothes, your rent so that you don't have to work as many hours and you'll have time to rest... He'll probably accidentally overwhelm you and you'll start to grow anxious about why he's treating you so differently.

☘️ And of course in the end, money can alleviate some of the stressors which aggravate your anxiety but it can't cure you, and every now and then when Michael is forced to accept that fact, he gets really upset with himself for not being able to do more.

☘️ Might sometimes grow frustrated with your anxiety, not because he finds you frustrating but because he's frustrated with himself for not knowing how to help. He really beats himself up about the fact that he isn't doing enough and yet in your eyes he's doing more than he needs to.

☘️ Especially because for as much as you appreciate all the money he spends trying to "fix your problems" all you really want, all you really need is someone to talk to, someone who will understand what you're going through and be there to hold your hand or give you a hug when you need it.

☘️ You won't exactly argue about it but one day when you find yourself on the verge of tears in conversation with him, your fingers trembling, that horrible sick feeling in your stomach, your head all fuzzy with stress, he's asking you what he can do to help and you get desperate... "Please Michael stop it, stop it... You've already done so much fo me I can't stand it... I just... I just need a hug and... I don't know? Someone to listen to me..." You feel terrible and ungrateful for having burst out with it like that when he was only trying to help, but when he hears you he cringes and realises his mistake.

☘️ He'll do a little nervous laugh, pinch the bridge of his nose or rub his face with his hands and sigh. "Fuck," he chuckles, "of course, I've been a perfect fool haven't I?" He'll wrap his arms around you and hold you gently to his chest, lay a lingering kiss in your hair and shut his eyes. For a moment he'll just hold you, cherish you.

☘️ He'll stay up late at night talking to you, listening to you when you're worried about something, trying to reassure you with potential solutions to problems, or simply reassuring you that people dont hate you, or that you haven't upset anyone.

☘️ I think he probably gets anxious too, worries that he's still not doing enough, that he can't provide for you the way you need someone too. Michael will have to face a lot of his own fears, learn to talk about feelings and share his thoughts and emotions with you so that you can both depend on one another and feel confident depending on one another.

☘️ When you get anxious about his love for you he can't help but laugh your concerns off, when you worry that you're too much for him, that he'll get bored of you because you think you're a handful, he always has a witty line to fire back with before he gets deadly serious. Because if there's one thing you're not it's Too Much.

☘️ If you voice these doubts late at night when you're lying side by side in the dark Michael will sit up, turn the lamp on and make you sit up so that he can look you in the eyes and tell you how much he loves you. "I don't ever want you to doubt that my love, my heart will always belong to you..."

☘️ He'll kiss you and say it again between kisses, holding your hands and guiding you closer to him, only satisfied when he's got your body pressed tightly against his and his lips are free to scatter you in kisses whilst he whispers his love for you whilst you drift to sleep.

☘️ Because of your anxiety and the fact that you have a tendency to dwell on your worries and fears Michael will try to keep you as far away from his family and the family business as he possibly can. He'll be pretty successful too, keeping you almost completely naive to his criminal side. As far as you're concerned Michael is the perfect New York gentleman. He's always working behind the scenes pulling his strings to keep you safe, but you don't notice a thing.

☘️ His family think you're sweet but terribly shy and Michael doesn't want to give them the opportunity to get to know you any better than that. He'd father they think his wife plain and timid than have you get to know them and realise the darker side of his life. He likes being your gentleman, and his family would be a threat to the peaceful sanctuary he's been trying to build for you at home.

☘️ Michael really likes to be in control of things, in fact not being in control is something which makes his own anxiety flare up, and so being in a relationship with Michael means you never have to worry about anything... No tricky decisions, no fretting over organising events or running the household. Michael has tabs on everything and everything runs smoothly and logically.

☘️ At times when your anxiety is so bad you feel like you can't function or do anything Michael will help you with every detail of life from helping you pick the perfect dress for the evening, choosing what you eat at the restaurant, speaking for you at social events, deciding how you spend your day, which chores you can do etc... he can and will organise every minute of your day for you so that you can get some semblance of order back in your life when you feel everything slipping...

☘️ At the same time however his favourite form of escapism is to literally just up and leave. When your anxiety is particularly bad and truly exhausting you he knows the perfect way to help you is to take you somewhere out of the city, a beach resort, a romantic European city... As long as it's warm and as long as its world's away from New York. He'll take you to a spa, spoil you rotten with gifts, organise the perfect week away for you. Let you live in a romantic dream world for as long as you need to to feel happy and peaceful again.

☘️ Deep down he knows that facing your fears will help to ease your anxiety, but he'd be a hypocrite to tell you that when he has so many of his own issues that he leaves unaddressed. And then there's the fact that he knows how much pain and stress you have to go through when facing those fears in order to get over them... He never wants to see you struggle, ever, not even if it's be good for you in the end... He'd rather construct a dream world for you to drift around in safely for the rest of your days.

Aberama

🐇 Being a fair bit older than you he's got far more life experience and though he was never particularly anxious in his youth he's certainly mellowed out with age. He's a very peaceful, calming presence and that's one of the things you love about him. The fact that just being around him is enough to settle your nerves a little.

🐇There's something do gentle about it, but so quietly self-assured that you know you'll always be safe when you're with him. He doesn't have to tell you -but believe me he does- for you to know he'd do anything for you.

🐇Just as you are drawn to him because his self-confidence and peacefulness soothe your anxieties, he is drawn to you because he can see how much you need someone like him. He's so endeared to you from the moment you first say hello. You're so shy and you look around the room the way rabbits look when they're twitching shivering and fearful.

🐇 He's so nurturing and he has that world weary wisdom too, any problem you present to him he can either come up with a simple solution or he can shrug his shoulders and say with such certainty that it'll all be fine, or that it isn't worth worrying about, that you have no choice but to believe him and put your faith in him. At times like these he will often ask "do you trust me y/n?" And your answer is of course always yes. There's no one on earth you'd feel safer putting your trust in.

🐇Honestly he Daddys you to pieces. It's been awhile since he really had someone to take care of and he's missed it so much. Taking care of you let's him feel useful again, makes him feel like for all the bad deeds and sins he's committed in life, he's got the chance to do some good in taking care of someone as precious as you.

🐇 He's really talented at curating physical comfort and he understands how much a calming, safe environment can contribute to calming anxiety. He builds the perfect sanctuary of a home for the two of you, lots of blankets, low lighting, candles, incense etc.

🐇 He makes a mean Chamomile tea and teaches you the family recipe... even then, he's always the one who makes it for you and will get you all cosy wrapped up in blankets in the vardo, bring you your chamomile tea and then sit with you in his arms quietly listening to the rain on the roof or the sounds of the forest/ fields/ river outside.

🐇 You love listening to him tell you stories. His voice is so soft and lilting that no matter what stories he's telling you you always feel so cosy, safe and relaxed by the end. You often drift to sleep whilst he's recounting an old folktale to you and stroking his thumb through your hair.

🐇 He will do his best to show you that you'll always be safe with him, that he'll never let anyone hurt you, that no matter what the problem is he'll always be there to work it out with you. He gets the balance right between "wanting to wrap you in cotton wool so you never feel anxious" and "wanting to help you learn how to cope/overcome your anxieties" and his way of striking this balance is to do everything with you, he never lets you go through anything alone and when you're having days where you don't feel capable of anything he will acompany you on every errand, help you with every chore - even the most simple things like bathing yourself, cooking/ eating, going to the shops...

🐇 He will draw a bath for the two of you and you'll wash together, he will wash your hair and wrap you in a towel afterwards, but he'll encourage you to help yourself too. The same when cooking, he'll sit and peel/prep the food with you, sharing each task between you to lighten the load, but keeping you busy so that you get the selfesteem boost from finishing a task.

🐇 When you need to escape he'll take you on the road just you and him, off into the wilderness where you can be immersed in nature and reconnect to the earth. The city, Birmingham being as grimy and busy as it is, is one thing that rages your anxiety and so Aberama is careful to make sure you get plenty of time away, out in the countryside. He'll take you foraging as a way of unwinding you, its the perfect combination of "slow, peaceful activity" and "task that requires a little concentration" he teaches you to recognise different plants, berries, mushrooms and will be so proud of you when you begin to learn and forage things for yourself.

🐇 He really believes that napping with your love beneath the shade of a tree on a summers day can solve all your problems and honestly, when he has you held in his arms, soothing you to sleep with some meandering story about the very tree you're sitting beneath, you can believe that he's right.

🐇 If theres something really really getting to you, a worry you just don't seem to be able to shake, Aberama will take you to a faerie tree to tie your wish to it

🐇 Lights a fire and wraps you up in a blanket, the two of you warming yourself by it as the night ages. He'll sing you to sleep with dreamy folksongs, the two of you watching the embers smoulder before you finally drift off and he carries you to bed.

🐇 He is so soft and reassuring whenever he speaks to you, you often get anxious about your relationship, you fear abandonment or that you are too much for anyone to ever really be able to love, and knowing you feel these things hurts Aberama's heart. So he does his best to gently reassure you of his love for you night and day. He makes sure its the first thing he tells you every morning and the last thing he says to you as he kisses you goodnight.

Taglist

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[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: don’t even ask what this is because i have no explanation 🙈 i’m just out here obsessing over mat and squeaks always. and in a happy coincidence it’s barzy days (13) to the season opener!

word count: 2.3k

tw: pregnancy, mutual masturbation, dirty talk

summary: in your second trimester, you’re constantly worked up and desperate for mat, in any shape or form

Lately, by the time Mat gets home from a game you’re fast asleep, buried under a thick down comforter with pillows wedged all around your body so you won’t roll over onto your back.

It’s an extra precaution, since your doctor informed you that you don’t have to worry about staying off of your back while you sleep until later in your pregnancy. You’re only fifteen weeks, with a tiny little bump to your lower stomach, so you could comfortably sleep on your back with no problem, but you’d decided to try and get used to sleeping on your side as early as possible. As a stomach sleeper, this is the hardest part of pregnancy so far.

It’s easier when Mat’s in bed with you, curled up against his side and using him as a human body pillow.

He always tries to slip into bed quietly after his shower and most of the time, he’s successful.

But tonight you’re not as deeply asleep as usual, overly warm and twitchy under the covers. You’re in and out of sleep, face buried in Mat’s pillow, until you hear him creep into the bedroom and go straight for the shower. He’s already showered at the rink post-game, you know, but something about the soap they keep stocked there makes you nauseous, even into your second trimester. So, second shower with the good smelling home soap for Mat it is.

The bathroom door is only partially closed and you can hear the water turn on, his shuffling around and getting undressed. You shift, thighs pressing together, warm from the inside out.

All you can think about is Mat in the shower, naked and wet, and you feel about as horny as a sixteen-year-old boy.

As if Mat hadn’t licked you to an extremely satisfying orgasm just this morning.

Your hand slides down your stomach, dipping under the hem of your sweats, finding the sensitive bud of your clit. Huffing an impatient breath, you draw a quick, tight circle around it, wet and achy. Everything south of your belly button is heightened with extra blood flow, your cunt throbbing and slick.

“Ugh,” you grunt into the pillow, arousal dripping around your fingers and thighs like a faucet. You don’t want to get out of bed, don’t want to move any more than you have to, but all you can think about is Mat in the shower and your body moves on autopilot. The covers get flung back and you swing your legs out of bed, wiping your wet fingers on the outside of your thigh.

Mat jumps when you sneak into the bathroom, one hand smacking against the tiled wall. “Fuck,” he yelps, blinking water from his eyes. “Scared the shit out of me, I thought you were asleep.”

You shake your head and shrug, “I was, sort of. Like in and out of it, you know.”

You lean against the countertop and watch Mat through the steamed glass. He rubs a soapy hand over his chest and you blink slowly, feeling yourself drip even more. Soap slides down his chest, onto his stomach, further down and you watch its path hungrily.

Mat’s laugh echoes around the bathroom and you startle, shaking yourself slightly and crossing your arms over your chest to try and ground yourself.

“Huh?” You ask stupidly, realizing that he was talking the entire time that you were ogling him.

“I was saying,” he wipes a hand over the glass to clean it, giving you a better look at the shit eating grin on his face and the way his hair is slicked back with shampoo off his forehead, “you’re looking at me like I’m a fucking steak.”

“I can’t help it,” you whine, too horny to be embarrassed. “All my hormones are crazy.”

“Don’t blame the hormones,” Mat shakes his head, pushing the shower door open slightly. “Hop in and I’ll take care of my girl.”

Your entire body flushes, desperate for Mat’s touch, but you wrinkle your nose and shake your head. “I’m all warm and dry,” you counter, exhausted but wired. “I don’t wanna take off my sweats.”

Mat laughs at you again and you pout. “Squeaks, baby, how am I going to help you if you keep your pants on?” He ducks his head under the spray and rinses shampoo from his hair.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, dipping your hand back under the waistband of your sweats. Your fingers brush against the elastic of your panties and you exhale harshly. “I want you to make me come while I’m warm and cozy and not in the shower.”

You know you sound insane and based on the absolute flood between your legs, you need to get in the shower anyway so you don’t wake up all sticky and uncomfortable. The warring desires of comfy and horny are fighting it out in your body and you’re not sure who’ll win.

Mat grunts and you know he has to be tired, it’s late and he’d played his heart out in a grinding overtime win. You should just get in the shower with him and let him fuck you hard and fast the way you need, but you’re feeling bratty and playful, despite the late hour. You lean harder against the marble counter and watch through the steam and glass as Mat’s hand grips his cock. It hadn’t been hard before, but you can see it thickening in his grip.

“This is what we’re gonna do,” he says, drawing your attention back to his face. His hand works lazily over his cock. “Since you worked me up too, you’re going to push your pants down to your knees - stop, I know you’re comfortable,” he interjects over your faint protest, “and I’m going to tell you exactly how you’re going to get yourself off while I take care of business in here.”

He pauses, grins wickedly at you, and continues, “unless you want to hop in with me.”

“I’m keeping my sweatshirt on,” you reply tartly, using your other hand to push the waistband of your sweats to your knees. Your panties follow and your bare cunt is exposed to the steamy bathroom air. You shiver, even though it’s not cold, and press your fingers against the wet skin of your inner thighs.

Mat wipes at the glass again, letting his gaze flicker down to where your fingers are tracing around your folds. He hasn’t told you what to do yet, so you’re behaving. For now.

“Shame,” he grins. “I like looking at your tits when I jack off. And the cute little curve of your belly that proves that you’re mine.”

His hand works over his cock, from base to tip where he runs his palm over the head, squeezing harshly before going back down over his shaft and balls. It’s been a while since you watched Mat jerk himself off, usually ready to lend a helping hand, so to speak, pretty quickly after he starts. Your breath hitches in your chest, watching his hand move and his cock harden. Pride bubbles up too, knowing that you’re the reason he’s getting hard and worked up.

“Mmm,” you hum, “use your imagination.”

Mat closes his eyes and you laugh, breath stuttering in your chest when he lets out an exaggerated, dramatic moan. “Got the best tits I’ve ever seen,” he replies cheekily. “I’d lick your nipples, bite them even though they’re all sensitive now, if you got in here with me.”

Your nipples tighten against your shirt, painful and sore, and you’d definitely like to get Mat’s mouth on them. “Finish your shower and come join me in bed,” you offer, thighs shaking the closer your fingers get to your clit. “We can be cozy, you can fuck me silly, like I want.”

“You came in here to tease me,” Mat counters. “I’m not letting you off that easy. Go ahead, baby, touch yourself. Let me see you drip down your thighs.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter, delving your fingers between your legs and playing with your clit. You’re unbearably achy, sensitive to even the faintest touch, and the press of your fingers against your clit is like an electric shock. You exhale and slump against the counter, letting it hold your weight.

You can hear Mat’s hand roughly jerking his cock, grunting and groaning over the sound of the water. “Can hear you over here,” he rasps, “you’re so wet. Fucking love how wet and horny you are.”

“Nothing works like your cock, Mat,” you whine, two fingers sliding easily into your soaked entrance with a squelch. “Just want you to fill me all the time. I need you.”

“Every day,” he promises, his free hand splayed over the glass, forearm holding his weight. “I’ll give you as many fucking orgasms as you want, every damn day. Just, add another finger. G’head, fuck yourself for me.”

You add the third finger and curl them, trying to hit your g-spot while your thumb circles your clit. It’s only barely enough and you cry, whining for Mat.

“There you go,” he praises you in a strangled voice and you angle your neck to watch him stroke his cock. The head disappears into his fist and reappears, touching the shower door when Mat leans forward and leaving a smudge behind. “Almost there, I can tell. Play with your nipples, baby, pinch them for me.”

You instinctively try to spread your legs wider, but get stuck with the fabric around your knees and grumble, leaning over the counter to try and get your fingers even deeper.

“As soon as you come, baby,” Mat’s voice sounds like he’s grinning, “I’m gonna come and then I’ll take you to bed, fill your cunt with my cock and fuck you to sleep.”

“Yes, please, Mat,” you sigh, dragging your free hand up your stomach until you can twist your nipple, an electric spark coiling in your belly. It doesn’t take much more after that, your fingers pumping in and out of your cunt sloppily, Mat letting the dirty talk fly fast and loose, sending you over the edge of an orgasm, shouting his name and squirting all over your hand and the floor.

“Fuuuck,” Mat draws out the curse, “made such a mess, my girl. Look so goddamn gorgeous pregnant with my baby, gonna lick you clean, want a taste of you.” He trails off, muttering to himself, until he comes a few moments later, a guttural groan drawn from his chest. He makes his own mess, ropes of come all over the shower door and his stomach. You watch, eyes heavy and chest heaving, while Mat finishes, your gaze drawn to his twitching cock and the tendons flexing in his forearm.

He drops his head to rest against the glass, panting, and it’s enough to get you wet again. You start giggling, surprised at your body’s audacity to still be so hot for Mat even while you’re growing a baby. You’ve Googled, wondering if it’s normal to be this damn horny during pregnancy, and it’s honestly a relief to find that a higher sex drive is normal in the second trimester. You’d been halfway convinced that you were a nymphomaniac after your morning sickness had disappeared and you’d needed multiple orgasms a week from Mat, sometimes multiple a day.

“What’s funny?” He lifts his head and grabs the bar of soap to wash off again. His movements are languid now, slower and less deliberate.

You kick your legs out of your sweats and grab a washcloth out from under the sink, cleaning yourself up while you reply, “the fact that I literally am still so fucking horny right now. Morning sickness went away and I turn into a teenage boy.”

The shower turns off and Mat steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Your gaze tracks the droplets of water trailing down his chest and he laughs, watching you. “I don’t have a problem with it,” he reaches for your wrist, tugging you close so he can kiss you properly.

You’re still pantsless and the kissing isn’t helping anything. “Stop that,” you mutter, nudging at his chest with your knuckles. “If you keep that up, I’ll never let you sleep.”

“Maybe I don’t want to sleep,” he kisses you again, his thumb rubbing over your wrist bone.

“But I do,” you grumble, melting into him. Your body buzzes with energy, reacting to Mat’s touch. He smooths his free hand over your hip, fingertips tapping at your ass cheek. “I need sleep, Mat.”

Without even realizing it, Mat’s maneuvered you back into the bedroom. Your hands land on the towel knotted at his waist and you tug on the fabric. It’s tented slightly in the front and you could so easily have him slip inside of you. “One more,” you say, completely contradictory. You blame it on the hormones, your excuse for everything lately.

But then you yawn, jaw cracking loudly, and Mat smiles at you softly. “Bed,” he orders, wandering away to get you a fresh pair of underwear and pants. “No practice tomorrow, so if you’re still in the mood, we’ll make a lazy morning of it.”

You let Mat manhandle you into bed, pillows tucked behind your back and knees, suddenly exhausted. You settle easily back into the nest of blankets that you’d left behind, watching Mat drop his towel into the hamper and get dressed. “Ass out like that, makes it really hard for me to not want to bite you,” you comment around another yawn.

“Bite me tomorrow,” Mat chuckles and climbs into bed with you, submitting to being your human pillow. You drape your leg over his thigh and sigh happily when he wraps an arm around your shoulder and nestles you against his side.

You relax against him and Mat draws circles on your arm with his fingers, lulling you to sleep. You’re almost passed out until a thought occurs and you say, into the dark room, “can you go out for bagels tomorrow? I would kill for a bacon, egg, and cheese.”

“Anything you want, Squeaks,” Mat replies, amusement lacing his tone. “Now go to sleep.”

[too-much-tma-stuff]

An Unwelcome Guest (part 5)

First | Previous | Masterpost | Next

Thank you to mossycobblestonewrites for betaing for me!

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Something was off with Danny, he had been twitchy since earlier that day. Jason wondered if it had something to do with the meeting with Batman he’d agreed to tonight, but he didn’t think that was it. Batman didn’t scare Danny, Jason getting hurt might, but Jason was ready for this and with Danny there he wasn’t going to get hurt. 

As much as Jason wanted to let Danny talk about this when he was ready, they needed to be at their best, and on the same page. “Fox, in my office,” he demanded, using the false name Danny still went by in public after Danny had twitched one too many times. The goons around them cackled and nudged Danny with their elbow or slapped him in the shoulder, probably expecting them to go fuck which… it was a fair assumption, they did that a lot, but not today. 

Still, Danny smiled at them in a way that gave nothing away before sliding into the office after him. “So, are we here for you or me?” Danny asked, slipping past Jason to lean against the edge of the desk, smiling at him a little. 

“You,” Jason stated. It could have been him. He was pretty stressed about the meeting and he wouldn’t have minded taking it out on someone. Not today though, not when Danny was already upset. “What’s got you so twitching, Moonlight?” Jason questioned gently, stepping forward to rest his hands on Danny’s waist, forcing himself to be a calming and caring presence right now. 

“It’s nothing, Jason, really,” Danny reassured, giving Jason a small smile. 

“It’s not,” Jason argued, brushing Danny’s bangs out of his face. “I’ve never seen you this twitchy. What’s got you spooked?”

Danny looked down, unable to meet Jason’s eyes as he fought with himself, conflicted about what, or how much to say. Jason waited patiently. Danny sighed and looked back up at him. “You know I haven’t told you everything. You’ve been really good about letting me keep my secrets, and I appreciate that. I told you I wasn’t human and you didn’t push to know what I was. I appreciate that, and I’m still not ready to talk about it, But… I felt a new presence in Gotham this morning. I mean, people come and go all the time, I wouldn’t think anything of it really. But they tried to See us. I blocked their vision, but I’m worried about why they tried to look at all.

“I think that Batman might have something to do with it. I got angry when Batman tried to insist on meeting with you alone before and slipped a little. I’m worried they clocked me as not really human and if they did… what if they contact the GIW or something? I’m not ready to face them again,” Danny admitted with a small shudder. It was a very good reason to be jumpy really.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t let them have you. We don’t have to go to the meeting if you don’t want to, or I can go alone,” Jason offered softly, but he knew Danny wouldn’t agree.

“No,” Danny snarled, grabbing onto Jason’s shirt. “No, I'm not letting you go alone! We’ll go, but it’s… Jason, if they try to get me I need you to run okay? Don’t try to save me. I can save myself, but not if I have to worry about you getting hurt. I just need permission to defend myself if it comes down to that. I can’t promise there won’t be collateral damage, it’s been a long time since I did anything full strength. I don’t know how… explosive it’ll be.” 

“You don’t need my permission to defend yourself,” Jason told Danny disbelievingly. “But you have it anyway,” Jason added immediately when he saw the dubious look on Danny’s face, deeply relieved when he felt his boyfriend relax slowly.

“Alright,” Danny said with a little smile, “then we’ll be fine. Let’s go ahead with the meeting,” he encouraged, stretching up to kiss Jason sweetly before they went back to work.

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That night Jason and Danny went home a little early. Cooking and eating a quiet dinner together, letting the calm brace them for the meeting that night. Once they were finished and cleaned up they suited up again and headed out to the meeting spot they’d arranged with Batman; a warehouse just inside their territory. They had it staked out all day so there was no chance for a trap and arrived just before the time of the meeting so they would be there first. 

Both Red Hood and Hyena were leaning against one of the pillars together, Hyena tucked under Jason’s arm when Batman and Robin came down from the rafters. Those two could never use a fucking door! Jason rolled his eyes in irritation, irritation that turned to anger when he realized they weren’t alone, shooting to stand up straight and face the newcomer. Someone was with them, a blond man in a brown trenchcoat. Constantine. 

The temperature in the room dropped nearly ten degrees. Jason shivered, looking back at Danny for an explanation. Danny’s eyes were entirely green, no whites or pupils to be seen as he stared at Constantine, who at this point, was visibly cowering. Even Batman looked shocked by the shift in the air. 

“You do Not have permission to enter My Haunt, Hellblazer,” Hyena hissed, his voice echoing oddly as he stepped forward, in front of Jason, his arm half out as if to shield him. 

“I’m so sorry! Batman insisted I come, I promise I wouldn’t have come anywhere near your turf if it was up to me!” Constantine insisted, holding his hands up placatingly. 

“Were you at least polite enough to bring an offering?” Danny questioned, his glowing eyes narrowed. 

Constantine looked panicked as he quickly patted down his pockets. It seemed like the only thing he had was a pack of cigarettes. Danny laughed at him but considered the offering anyway, cocking his head. “They’re the brand Red Hood smoked, I’ll take them,” he decided. He held out his hand and Constantine tossed the pack to him, unwilling to get closer to a potential threat.  Danny caught the pack easily and passed it off to Jason, who pocketed it. 

“You smoke?” Batman asked Jason, sounding betrayed for some reason. 

“Really!? That’s what you’re worried about right now?!” Constantine squeaked at Batman indignantly. 

Danny cackled, shaking his head at them before looking at Batman with a thoughtful expression. “I’m assuming you brought him because you have questions and suspicions,” Danny asked with some disdain. 

“And here I thought this meeting was because you wanted to see me,” Jason put in, holding his hands to his chest as if he was hurt. 

“It is! I do! I’m just worried about you, this isn’t like you and if-” Batman started, sounding more and more like Bruce before Jason interrupted. 

“If what? If he's manipulating me?” Jason scoffed, and shook his head. “He’s not, and you don’t fucking know me!” 

Danny looked back and forth between all parties present before shrugging. “Do you know what I am, Hellblazer?” He asked curiously, looking back at Constantine, who hesitated, and then shook his head. “Do you have any skill with magic?” Danny continued. Constantine hesitated again, and then nodded. “Good. I will let you cast One spell, for honesty. Not to be forced to answer, not to bind me, but One spell circle to ensure I won’t lie. Then you,” he said looking at Batman defiantly, “can ask me your questions.” 

“Sweetheart, are you sure?” Jason asked, reaching out to grab Danny’s arm gently. “You don’t have to, you know it doesn’t matter what he thinks.” Ya, Jason was a little freaked out by the change in Danny here, but it didn’t really matter right now. They could talk about it later. 

“I know it doesn’t, but there are some things I want to tell you too, and this will make it easier,” Danny reassured Jason, clearly smiling behind his mask. 

“Um, if you’re sure?” Constantine hesitated, reluctant to piss Hyena off. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll watch you make the circle,” Danny confirmed, stepping forward as Constantine started to draw the circle. “You were the one who tried to spy earlier today, huh?” Danny asked and Constantine flinched.

“Ya, sorry about that,” Constantine apologized, his hands remaining steady as he drew, despite the nervousness in his voice

“Don’t worry about it. I’m relieved to know who it was,” he admitted with a casual shrug. “Just don’t try that again,” Danny added, shooting Constantine a glare. 

The silence was heavy as Constantine finished the circle. Danny gave a satisfied nod as he stepped inside. The signs activated, glowing gold and then green. Danny seemed relaxed and comfortable again. “Right, spells’ active. I won’t answer everything but I can’t lie. Ask away,” Danny said smiling at Jason and spreading his arms a little. 

It was Batman who managed to ask first; “What are your intentions with my Son?”

“To fuck him on every flat surface from here to Star City,” Danny stated, completely seriously, making Jason burst out laughing, Constantine choke, and Batman look like he’d bitten a lemon. “And to love him, truly and unconditionally,” he added, his expression softening as he looked back at Jason. 

“I love you too, Cub,” Jason said fondly. He switched his attention to Batman with a frown, “I am Not your son. Fuck you.” 

The lemon-bitten expression on Batman’s face got worse. 

“What are you?” Constantine asked hesitantly and Danny shrugged. 

“I’m a myth. If I told you what I am you’d probably think the spell failed rather than thinking I was telling the truth. I am an impossibility and a fact. That’s as much as I’m willing to say,” he declared, glancing at Batman. 

Jason bit down another laugh at how dramatic and romantic Danny made it sound. Though it did make him wonder What exactly Danny was. 

“Are you human?” Jason asked. He knew the answer, but he wanted Batman to hear it. 

“I was human, not that long ago, and I’m not Not human now. I am as much human as I am anything else.” Danny mused, giving Jason a look that told him Danny knew he was being a little shit, and he was enjoying it. Honestly, that he had ever been fully human was news to Jason, he thought Danny had always been half. Had it been the tests that made him Something Else? Some new version of those chemically induced Metas?

“How powerful are you?” Batman, again.

“I don’t entirely know, it’s been a few years since I’ve really tested my limit,” Danny admitted with a little frown, “I do know the last time I was measured, I could have theoretically fought Superman and won without much trouble.” Behind him, Jason whistled softly, impressed. “I don’t use them because I’m not great at pulling my punches and I don’t want to damage Red Hood’s city.”

Constantine was glaring at Batman and making a quite clearly telegraphed ‘See?! I told you so!’ motion. Batman did not look pleased. 

Hood stepped a little closer to the edge of the circle, drawing Danny’s full attention, turning more towards him. “That was why you asked me for permission to defend yourself if you needed to before we came here?” Danny nodded, looking a little bashful. “So you’d use them if I asked you too?” Red Hood asked. Danny hesitated, then nodded again. 

“I’d do anything for you,” he confessed. The honesty was ragged, it dropped heavily into Jason’s chest as he realized the true weight and responsibility of that. 

“Do you have a deal with him?” Constantine asked Danny, gesturing at Jason.

“No, no deal, no contract. I can’t be bound by such things,” Danny said, shaking his head. 

Constantine looked a little green at that, though the non-magically inclined people in the room don’t know why. “Then why…”

“Because I love him. Because he gave me purpose and Home when I had none. Humanity ripped my haunt away from me and desecrated my grave. I don’t want to think about what I could have become if he hadn’t found me,” Danny admitted with a little smile, looking down almost bashfully. 

“Your grave? So you are dead?” Constantine asked. Batman had fallen silent, probably pretty lost.

“There are many ways to be dead or undead, and having died is not the same thing as being dead,” Danny said loftily. 

Jason was pretty sure he was enjoying being cryptic and mysterious, it made him snort an inelegant laugh. That made Danny’s mysterious composure break and he cackled as well, grinning back at Jason from behind his muzzle, so familiar and wonderful. Jason loved him, no matter what he was. 

Danny’s eyes were back to normal as he looked back at Constantine and Batman. “What you need to know is that I am not a demon or a monster. I am not controlling or manipulating anyone, though I probably could if I tried. I have Claimed Crime Alley as my haunt on Red Hood’s behalf because I am loyal to him. I have no interest in the rest of Gotham, or in the rest of the world for that matter. Stay out of our way and you have nothing to fear from me.” Danny splayed his hands in a peace gesture. 

After a few moments of silence, with no more questions, Danny steps out of the circle and ducked back behind Jason. He could feel Danny press against his back, leaning against him a bit more heavily then he normally would, betraying how much this had taken out of him. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Jason said, crossing his arms and glaring at Batman. 

“But-” Batman started, sounding startled. “No! Next time, maybe try meeting in good faith without any uninvited guests. If you pull any shit like this again there won’t be any more chances,” Jason warned before turning away, wrapping an arm around Danny’s shoulders and ushering him out. Making a hand gesture to the waiting goons and gunmen as they left, signaling them to make sure Batman and Constantine left as Jason took Danny home. Not that it was needed, Constantine practically ran as soon as he got the chance.