#it doesn't aid your cause what ever it is

[sowhatnotcreative]

I thuroughly understand that some contries have a specific culture that makes you more likely to do something. I'm not stupid. I also thuroughly understand that certain neurodivergent traits are likely to be the cause of someone doing something, anything at all, wether it be feeling overwhelmed because of autism or maybe hyperfocusing because of adhd? I am also in no way judging that.

However, in storytelling, in writing, in journalism, in anything at all, you don't have to start with this reason, this specification or modifier (I know there is a word for it I just cant think of it). If you want to say that you personally felt overwhelmed in a situation and you are writing about it? It's allowed to say "I felt overwhelmed". You do not have to say "I have autism so therefore I felt overwhelmed". And yea this is only an example, i will add another less controversial one, but please remember this example, it will be important in a minute.

I am writing about what I did yesterday. There is NO point in saying "Because I'm Swedish I like to make myself some porrige in the morning. Swedes also like to eat their porridge with jam and so do I. Then because I have CFS I stay in bed". This makes for a impersonal and overly informational story. Does the fact that I'm Swedish have any relevance to what I eat for breakfast? No! Do I stay in bed because of CFS? Yes! Is it relevant? No!

I didn't wake up and decide that because I'm Swedish I must eat porridge, I just wanted to eat it. If it's traditionally Swedish or not is irrelevant, but if I still want to make it a point? Maybe in introducing my character? How about "I ate porrige for breakfast and just like many swedes I put some jam on it". The main point of the sentence is not where I'm from.

Now let's get back to the former example. Maybe you are even writing about being overwhelmed specifically to bring awareness?

Sidenote: This post is mostly targeted towards this new "woke" way of creative writing that tries to tick all the opression boxes so they can tag it on bookreads or maybe tiktok will pick it up for being inclusive, maybe sell something to a specific market so they make a point out of being the most opressed™ - but let's assume this specific text is just a tumblr post or something, wanting to bring awareness or just general writing, who am I to give advice to authors anyway.

You were in a situation. You got overwhelmed. Yes of course having autism could be a massive part of it. Maybe the only reason even - but not everyone who has autism would be overwhelmed in that specific situation. It's not at all a guarantee. All people with autism are also different. Someone who doesn't know anything about autism, and reads this awareness would read it not as "wow autism makes this situation so much more difficult to deal with", they will read it as "Wow, people with autism can't do that?". In the effort of removing stereotypes, you are enforcing them. By placing the "cause" (be it nationality, disability or neurodivergence) before what happened, you make that thing the determining factor. Not even on purpose just sentence structure!

Causation and action when the causation is not absolute can be implicit is bad writing. And when you think deeper it does do more harm than good to put what ever it is front and center.

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Five w/ apocalypse reader— 'the end of the world is the most unfortunate circumstance to develop an obsessive trauma bond.'

Yandere Five had been but a barely pubescent teen when he so wisely chose to manipulate time to win an argument with his dismissive parental figure. It was jarring in the beginning. Everything he had ever known had been stripped from him. There was nothing left but debris and blood.

He always had his powers to aid him, yet for the first time they failed. He realized that his reliance on them is what caused this problem in the first place.

How could he be so idiotic?

Fastrack, six years or so, he tended to lose track due to the harsh winter blocking what was left of the sun and the overarching smog always present. Where was he going with this? Oh, yes. It made it difficult to calendar because of the extenuating circumstances.

It had to be about February when he met you. The snow had settled over more monotonous ruins of what was probably a rural town. Most of the sun rays were blocked by smog and strange cloud formations manipulated by the effects of it all. Still, he could see you, leaning against what still stood of a brick building, devoring a stale-looking twinkie.

"This one's interesting, huh, Dolores?" Think we're gonna have to shoot em'?"

Yandere Five ends up sticking by your side to culminate resources and find your true reasoning for being here. That's totally the justification, yeah. It isn't as if he is incredibly touch starved and on the edge of losing what little sanity he had. He just needs to figure you out. That he does, a little too well.

Yandere Five becomes overbearing. You can't tell if you are being questioned by your future murderer or stalker. He demands you answer all his questions promptly and with the utmost truth. He doesn't fluff them and act nicely or reply with basic human empathy. He simply loses his edge after he learns one more thing about you.

Are you allowed to do the same to him in return?

Absolutely not.

You learning about him is on a need to know basis. So if he feels that you need to know it, you will.

Take him by his word. You have to.

Yandere Five isn't the largest fan of physical affection, or physical anything in fact. It takes years in the apocalypse for him to willingly be touched by you. That's at least how he tries to appear. His expressions are always so blank and dismissive. A sarcastic quip is always on the tip of his sharp tongue.

Yet after only a few months of traveling together, he is more than eager to feel your skin under his.

He doesn't want to be near you, no, but you injured yourself by being foolish. He warned you against it, and still you continued. So now he is using some of the minimal medical supplies you both have so he can patch you up. If both of you were back pre-apocalypse, then he would definitely install a tracker inside your arm. For protection, obviously.

He doesn't want to be touched, no, but you're shivering. Losing the only other seemingly living human being, besides Delores, in the apocalypse would leave him at a great disadvantage.

He doesn't want intimacy with you, no. He has just to cuddle you to protect you and keep the nightmares away. He has to kiss your irresistible lips to keep your morale up. He has to let his thoughts about you to linger about in private, unexplored places so he may relieve himself to release relaxing and happy hormones. It's simple as that.

Deep down, he knows the true reason is that he has become utterly smitten with you. He has just chosen to do his best to gaslight himself, even though statistics state it only makes those feelings worse. Perhaps he wants that. Maybe he just wants one person in this fucked-up world that is his and his wholly and unequivocally.

Yandere Five even gets rid of his beloved Delores for you. He was growing paranoid about her. She kept teasing him about how lovesick he was. She was talking about starting to fall in love with you too. The final straw is when she said she wanted a threesome with you. In the dead of night, he disposed of her, a bullet in her head.

Strangely enough you dropped the subject after asking once. It puzzled him. Did you truly dislike Delores that much to be so nonchalant about her disappearance? Did you know what he did? Of course you didn't. You obviously hated Delores and are glad she is gone.

Good.

He likes it this way.

No more distractions, just you two.

Yandere Five doesn't want to figure out the equation to get back to his pre-apoctalyptic life. He writes down a bunch of meaningful numbers in chalk. They aren't coordinations for returning to the academy. They're calculations about your possible romantic relationship, sexual aspects, how submissive you are, and more.

He has detailed a four letter plan in his private journal.

S ubmissivness — how complacent are you? are you gullible to his tactic? how strong is your moral code? would you go along with him knowing how truly infatuated he is with your very existence?

I nterest — how are you feeling? what are your reactions? he needs to know every single thing about you. he needs to know all of your likes just as importantly as your dislikes.

N eutrality — how will his actions affect you and everything else around you? what is the path that will keep you closest to him while also making him seem like the one in charge? this is how we will know if he has gone too far.

S way — how close are others getting to you? are they looking to befriend you? are their true intentions more sinister? he has to analyze every expression and every movement of those who make any contact with you.

You call it his diary. It is not a diary! Diaries are for feelings; journals are filled with statistics. Besides, you won't ever find the location of his actual diary. He writes it in southern Sumerian anyway. You don't have a chance at deciphering it.

Yandere Five meets the Handler while you are snoozing away after a particularly hard day of labor. He can't believe the promise this strange woman puts before him. He works for this Commission for five years, and after that, he's good as done. He gets you in whatever place he wishes for the rest of your lives.

It's a bunch of bullshit as far as he's concerned. Miracles usually don't come with strings attached. Then again, does he really have a choice? He doesn't want to see you suffer anymore than you already have.

So he takes this once in a lifetime 'golden' opportunity.

Let's just hope this one doesn't bite him in the ass.

Yandere Five tells you that he has a way to get you out of here. The both of you just have to spend a little time away from each other. His body psychically aches while way from you, and it isn't just because he's a crotchety old man. The both of you weren't going to be young forever.

He doesn't necessarily hate the job until he learns that killing you is part of keeping the time continuum in check. He doesn't wait a day after learning that information. He takes your hand and escapes somewhere in the past.

Of course his calculations were rushed and were off in the worst possible way. Of course he ends up in the middle of his father's funeral, both of you stuck in your thirteen-year-old bodies. Of course Kalus has to make a sex joke about it.

Damn it! He wants to scream at the top of his lungs.

He needs you! He had you all to himself, and then other people just had to fuck it up.

It's okay. It's okay.

He'll figure out a way to stop all of this and keep you forever.

Forever. What a pleasant thought.

[skyscrapergods]

do ponies ever give gifts or make sacrifices to the alicorns?

or did they use to do that and they just were like “stop it it doesn’t do anything”

Gods are powered by belief in them, and their powers are linked to what exactly those beliefs are.

The Sun was long regarded as sublime and benevolent. And she was, as long as she remembered to care about ponies. But as she towered above them, she often forgot to think about mortals while she thought about the planet as a whole, ecosystems and the heavens. Fearing they would be forgotten, the population turned to more and more desperate rituals to command her attention and favor.

Celebrations to her name did more than summon her; they gave her power. Summer sun parties, gift giving, and community feasts caused the nourishing warmth of sunlight. Hospitals erected in her name lent healing touch to the mind in the morning rays. The grander the festival, the more attention The Sun paid. You would surely be blessed with long days and beautiful sunsets as thanks for the artisans crafting stained glass windows for her churches.

Not every pony was happy with happiness. They wanted more. With greater gifts and more breathtaking rituals, surely they could turn her favor toward them and command her aid in matters of war.

The sacrifices began.

They got what they wanted, in the end. The Sun turned her attention on their alters stained with blood and pools running red.

She was not pleased with this new form of worship. She was not pleased with the powers it weaved into her feathers, with the new nature of her lifegiving light.

She smote them all.

In the reeling black of burning villages, she wondered what she had done. She could not wash their stain from her essence. Her act of wrath had cemented their violence into her very being.

Now the sunlight shriveled, it seared, it dried and droughted. To the creatures she loved so much, it caused burns and other illnesses of the flank. She had become one with fire.

The harshness of her love never faded. Society had to adapt. Agriculture now required levies and aqueducts to irrigate the fields and keep the plants from burning. Shade needed to be brought to outdoor events. Flighted ponies created blankets in the sky to give relief from the punishing radiation.

Today, all of this seems normal. Of course the sun burns, that's how it's always been. It seems like such an inevitable part of life that it's hard to remember we caused it.

But we must remember. We must remember to never go there again. We must keep our worship kind, and remember that pain is not holy. Suffering is not divine. Death begets death and fear begets fear. Do not hurt each other for the sake of your god, and do not hurt yourselves.

She doesn't like it.

[yourtamaki]

o, come, be buried / a second time within these arms

zoro x f!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: hurt/comfort, sex as a form of comfort, fingering, cuddlefucking, creampie, scent kink, oral (f!receiving), cum play, cum eating, violent imagery, bit of aftercare

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there is a storm building inside you.

zoro can see it raging even as you keep your face turned from him. the room dark save for the moonlight that streams in through the open window, just bright enough to spot your outline curled up in bed, covers tucked up under your chin. lines of tension keep your back rigid and shoulders hunched, your breathing shaky and slow as you tell him to leave.

you’re vicious gales and crashing waves wrapped into one, devastating and beautiful.

“you don’t want to be around me right now,” you say, words muffled by your pillow.

“don’t tell me what i want,” he doesn't try to bite back the anger that laces itself through his tone. zoro has never censored himself from you before and he wasn't about to start now.

ire thrums hot in his veins, burning and boiling away beneath his skin. he has always given you every part of himself, heart served in his open, blood-stained palms, for better and most certainly for worse.

the thought of you holding yourself back from him, that there’s a part of you that he’s being denied, sets his teeth on edge. he'd been searching for you all day, prowling around the ship like a caged animal until finally found his way to where his search should have began, the tiny storage room that had become your shared quarters.

“you pissed at me?” he asks.

“no,” you say.

“want me to kill anyone?”

“no.”

it grates on him that there’s no enemy for you to sic him on, no bones to crack, no blood to spill. your pain deserves retribution and he is the blade that would carry it out, if only you would wield him, "then i'm staying."

"zoro, please. just go."

“who do you think you’re protecting by hiding yourself away?” he steps in closer, right to the edge of the bed but makes no move to touch you, “cause it’s not me and it sure as fuck isn’t you.”

you throw a dagger of a glare his way, so sharp it could make a man bleed before he even knew he’d been cut. he doesn’t care. a small price to pay for your gaze.

zoro is too loyal of a beast to flinch away the first time you flash your fangs at him.

you hold his gaze for a moment longer before turning back around to face the wall once more. in your silence, he resolves himself to sitting on the floor by your bedside until he can be of some fucking use to you. zoro would lick crumbs of affection out of the palm of your hand. if the closest you'll let him be to you right now is knelt on the ground, keeping vigil, then he'll take it. he's crouched halfway down when he hears you call for him.

“baby, get in.”

how you have enough sweetness in you to spare him a kind word even when you have none for yourself, he will never understand. zoro takes a moment to pull his swords free from where they hang on his hip, propping them up against the wall where they’ll still be in arm's reach before he pulls back the covers and settles in next to you.

you're cold to the touch despite having been buried under the blanket, dressed only in a simple shirt and underwear and zoro is quick to throw an arm around you and pull you in by your waist until you’re pressed flush against him, his other arm slipping under your head for you to rest on. he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, breathes you in and for a moment he can almost smell the scent of your hurt lingering on your skin, thick and bitter as blood.

there’s an urge, ever present and never sated, to dig his teeth into the side of your neck and bite down until iron coats his tongue, to taste you, know you, in a way no one else ever has or will. it’s an urge he can only hold at bay by pressing open mouth kisses to your throat and feeling your pulse flutter against his tongue.

you slowly start to melt in his arms, the tension you wore like ill-fitting armour stripping off you piece by piece with every kiss until you’re free from its hold, warm and light.

“better?” he asks, slipping his hand under your shirt and pressing his palm flat against your stomach just to feel it rise and fall, follows the rhythm of it and matches his breaths to yours. the reassurance that you're whole and safe is a cool balm to his worries.

“a little bit,” you whisper.

“but you need more,” it’s hardly a question that needs to be answered, not with the way you’ve started to shift in his hold.

“you don’t have to—”

“i do. i want to.”

and there’s more he could say, he knows there is. pretty poetry to comfort you, sweet nothings to soothe you. but what use would empty words be to you? they can’t hold you, can’t keep you warm, can’t wipe your tears.

zoro can. he will. for you, he’d do anything and everything. all and more.

the room settles into silence, his offer hanging in open air and ripe for your taking. you don't reach out for it, not yet, but zoro doesn't mind. he can wait.

“impatience is a swordsman’s undoing,” his master had once told him a lifetime ago when zoro’s palms were still soft enough to bleed and grief was a companion so new it still stepped on his heels as it dogged his footsteps.

of the two of you, patience has always been your strong suit rather than his. it was your patience that brought you together, when you stepped into his life with a hand outstretched and he met you the same way he met all good things that tried to enter his life, with a snarl and blood stained teeth.

zoro kept you at a careful distance with all the wariness of a distrustful stray, always watching but never getting close. it was you who slowly bridged the gap, gracing him with kindness and company he'd done nothing to earn but gorged himself on anyway.

it was only because of your patience that he knows the bliss of falling asleep and waking up with the warm weight of you in his arms. the least he could do is pay you back with what you've always freely given him. so zoro holds you close and waits.

and waits.

and smiles, sharp and proud, when you take his hand that still rests on your stomach and lower it until he’s cupping you between your legs, the heat of you searing his palm even through your panties.

your hips jerk when zoro doesn’t move, a soft whine catching in your throat when his other arm circles around your chest and holds you still against him, “zoro.”

“i've got you,” he says with a kiss behind your ear, toying with the waistband of your panties before sliding his hand inside.

he slides his middle finger down your slit, dipping his fingertips into the slick heat of your cunt to wet them before drifting back up to where you need him most. there’s no rush as zoro rubs neat, tight circles against your clit, slow and firm even as you buck and try to grind down on him.

he wants you to feel every moment of this, to savour it, to drown in pleasure so deep you never want to come up for air.

another kiss to your throat, one on your jaw and you finally melt back into him, legs spreading just enough for zoro reach lower and start to ease a thick finger inside you.

“there you go, baby, that’s it,” he says, “let me in.”

you swallow him down to his knuckle, trembling in his arms when zoro slips in a second finger and crooks them to rub against the spot that never fails to pull the prettiest sounds out of you.

he shifts, trying to move lower between your legs without pulling his fingers out so he can taste where you’re wet and aching for him but you stop him by threading your fingers through his short strands, keeping him in place.

“what?” he asks, “you don’t want my mouth?”

“no, not— not right now. just stay close. keep holding me. please,” he hates how small you sound.

“i’m here. i’m right here. fucking kills me knowing you were in here hurting by yourself."

"i'm sorry.”

"don’t,” the anger he felt when you tried to send him away rears up once more. an apology is the last thing he wants to hear from you right now, “just find me next time. doesn't matter when or where. you find me. got it?"

“yeah, i got it,” you start rocking back into him, soft ass grinding against his clothed cock, “zoro.”

“i know. i know you want it, baby, but i gotta stretch you out first. can’t fit when you’re this fucking tight.”

your answer is lost in a moan as he eases in a third finger, thumb pressing against your clit. the angle isn’t kind on his wrist but zoro keeps his pace steady, spreading and curling his fingers until you’re soaked and soft and ready for him. he pulls his hand out of your panties, kissing your nape when you whine from the loss before he licks the taste of you off his fingers.

“i'm not going anywhere,” he says, "keep your eyes on me."

zoro waits until you turn in his arms and he has your gaze before he gets out of bed and undresses, leaving his clothes in a pile next to his blades. you sit up to tug your panties down and kick them off, your shirt following soon after.

you’re bare and soft and holding out a hand for him to take. zoro laces his fingers through yours and joins you once more, stripped of his swords, his clothes, and his restraint.

you don't crash into each other so much as you collide into a bruise of a kiss. it aches more than it soothes but the shared pain of it only has him pressing closer to you, your soft tits pressed to his chest, legs intertwined and weeping cock trapped between your stomachs.

he reaches up to cup your cheeks and breaks the kiss to pull back just far enough to take in the sight of you, all swollen lips and glassy eyes. it takes a heartbeat longer than it should for you to focus on him. the storm is still raging inside you but zoro refuses to lose you to it. he stands firm against the buffeting winds that threaten to rip you away from him and swipes his thumbs over your cheekbones.

“still with me?” he asks.

you turn into his touch and kiss the rough centre of his palm, “‘m here.”

"then take what you need, baby."

you slide a hand between your bodies, taking his cock into your hand and guiding his tip to your entrance. even with all the prep, it takes some time to sink inside you, time you spend peppering kisses across his face. he bears them as he bears the scars that litter his body. with pride. with honour.

zoro bottoms out with a low groan, grabbing you under your knee and hooking your leg over his hip to slip in that much deeper. every sense is flooded with you. the wet heat of you wrapped around his cock, the heady scent of your sweat and need swimming around his head, soft skin beneath his palms.

entangled and weaved together like this, heart and breath as one, zoro is drawn into the eye of your storm.

your pleasure is his, your pain his own.

still, clear waters surround you both as he waits for you to adjust. with how closely he watches you, he knows you’re ready even before you wrap both arms around him and start to roll your hips.

he keeps one hand under your knee, the other sliding down your back to rest on your ass, and uses his grip on you to pull you into a slow, dirty grind.

“oh fuck,” you moan as the two of you find your rhythm together. zoro barely pulls out, keeping himself buried to the hilt inside you. you jerk back as he rolls his hips just enough to grind your clit up against his pelvis, his firm hold on you the only thing keeping you pinned in place.

“easy now. don’t run from me.”

time slows to a crawl, every moment yawning and stretching into the next, slow and sweet as honey. you tip forward, closing what little space there still was between you to pull him into a kiss that has all the intimacy of a hard-fought spar, of learning to move together, of missteps and growing pains, of getting the wind knocked out of him only to be pulled right back on his feet.

you’re close, all worked up and sensitive from his fingers, cunt fluttering and clenching down around him as you near your high. zoro chases your pleasure down, a starving mutt set loose upon a feast. he uses the little leverage he has to wrestle you on to your back and fuck into you with short, heavy thrusts.

“c'mon, baby, that's it,” he says, bent low to brush his lips against your ear, “let go.”

he reaches down between you, thumb pressing firm against your swollen clit and you’re gone, swept out to sea as your high crashes down over you in waves. zoro hardly feels his own orgasm rip through him, too caught up in watching you shake apart and be remade in his arms.

all is still as you pant and come back into yourself. your hand slips back into his and squeezes once. he’s not sure whether you’re trying to reassure yourself that he’s still here or that you are but he squeezes back all the same.

“can i eat you out now?”

and for the first time since he stepped into the room, a smile breaks over your face, bright as the dawn sun breaking through an overcast sky. you pull out of his hold, his soft cock sliding out, and settle on your back, legs falling open, “go for it.”

zoro eases himself down between your legs, throwing your thighs over his shoulders, never letting your hand slip free from his. he takes stock of your fresh fucked cunt, clit puffy and hole clenching around nothing, dripping with him. the scent of you, of the two of you, is thickest here, heavy in his nose, and zoro breathes you in with deep, greedy lungfuls, spent cock twitching against his thigh.

he dives in, catching what leaks out of you on his tongue before pulling back and dribbling the mess of cum and spit all over your pussy.

“nasty,” you say and zoro wants to kiss the curl that sits pretty on the corner of your lips. he settles for kissing your clit instead.

“you like it.”

“i like you.”

you wield your honesty with all the ease and carnage zoro wields his swords, sliding it between his ribs and piercing his heart clean through. the pain is lost as he’s distracted by the light pouring in as the moon rises higher into the night sky.

or maybe it’s your eyes that take the pain away because it’s only through them that he notices how bright the moon’s light shines tonight.

zoro devours you, gaze fixed to yours, one hand still holding yours while the other arm keeps your hips pinned to the bed. he takes his time cleaning you up, lapping at your folds until only the taste of you remains. it’s only then that he sucks your clit into his mouth, slipping two fingers inside you to give you something to clench down on.

you are a vision in your bliss, one he has no right to bear witness to. a lifetime of blood and blades and butchery shouldn't be rewarded with the softness of you in his hand and on his tongue. it's not right.

but as you take hold of his hair to keep his mouth pressed flush against your cunt, zoro finds he couldn't give less of a shit if it's right. all that matters is if he does right by you. there's an oath in every broad stroke of his tongue, a vow in every kiss to your clit, to take care of you in all the ways you need, in all the way he knows how.

today and for all days.

your orgasm is a gentle thing that washes over you and steals your breath for a moment, smaller than the first but leaves you just as ruined.

zoro takes his rightful place by your side once more, gathering you up in his arms and running his knuckles up and down your spine.

"thank you," you press a kiss to his cheek, just below where his scar ends. he accepts the kiss but not the gratitude that comes with it.

a hound needs no thanks for fulfilling its nature.

later, he will carry you off to the baths, let you pop open bottles for him to smell that make his nose itch but that make you beam, wash your back, and wait with the patience you’ve taught him for you to share what’s trapped inside your head.

he may not understand, may not have the comfort of words to give you, but he will listen. and he will stay.

but that is for later.

for now, zoro holds you to his chest and watches over you, moonlight and peace washing over you as you catch your breath.

dedicated to: mah wife @katslutski and loml @saotoru

[thatbadadvice]

Dear Advisor,

I tend to be a very reserved and shy person so making friends is super hard. Recently I’ve been wanting to socialize more , but I genuinely don’t know how. Is there any advice that you have that can make me look more approachable and not be scared to talk to people. I’m so stressed about being alone and not having any friends, but I just find it so hard to go up to people and make a conversation. I tried once but it became super awkward. I just really need good advice from someone on how to approach a person and continue a conversation.

Dear Awkward Anonymous,

It would be so easy to get into a whole deep let's-skeetshoot-therapy-on-the-internet session and try to help a total stranger unpack all of the GA-FUCKING-ZILLION ways in which social awkwardness shows up in a person's life. It seems easy, and it even seems meaningful and worthwhile, but to do so I would have to presume a bunch about your life, and make a bunch of assumptions about the ways in which my own experiences maybe/probably track with yours, and it would be a whole big wank-fest, and frankly ... it would be awkward. I'd be like you, standing there at the party, hoping that what I'm saying resonates or lands or even vaguely tracks with anything a stranger has ever known or experienced, presuming (probably rightly!) that it doesn't, and then flailing and blaming myself when I didn't emerge from the interaction with all the world's gold stars.

So here's what: stop talking to other people as a primary social occupation. Going up to people and just talking is fucking terrifying. The Bad Advisor says this as a Certified Extrovert™ who rarely shuts the fuck up.

Instead, find a thing to do with other people that involves some sort of task or goal or activity. Talk about the thing you're doing together, when you're doing it. If it feels okay, maybe introduce one or two of your own relatable-to-the-activity experiences in the process. See who picks up on it. Ask the people who pick up on it genuinely interested questions in response. This is what we awkward people call: engineering a conversation. It is the way, I am told, humans make connections with other humans. I have seen it work in my own life.

Depending on where you live and your ability level and skill set, I bet you have some options! You could seek out an open board game night, pub quiz session, knitting/quilting circle, or mutual aid meetup that's looking for volunteers. Especially look for social activities with strangers that involve a dedicated, pre-prescribed activity (such as a hiking or mall-walking group, stuffing envelopes for a political candidate or cause you care about, planting trees at your local park, or tasting tea/wine/beer/etc.). (Somebody is going to say join a ballroom dancing club or suchlike; I am personally terrified of this, but if you have a higher tolerance for strangers touching you and fewer than two left feet: it's literally an option. Line-dancing, on the other hand ... absofuckinglutely.)

Even if what's available in your area isn't your precise and specific interest, it might be worthwhile to check out something you are decidedly meh about -- you might not be the only meh person there. You can bond over shit that's boring or shitty with other people who find it boring or shitty! Some of my best friends, arguably my very best friends, came out of experiences we mutually loathed or found at least moderately and mutually miserable.

Consider especially finding an activity where you yourself are the manager of operations and/or have a designated task to take care of that is unique to your position! This doesn't have to be complicated or skill-dependent; can you become a voter registrar in your area? Well, bam! You've got paperwork people have to fill out and a good reason to jibber-jabber with folks who have to ask you the questions. Other ideas: join your local neighborhood association board, become a notary public, or see if your local pet rescue is looking for intake line volunteers. Do you have a trustworthy, especially outgoing friend who might agree to play "social glue" for you a couple of times at their activity-centric events? Make it explicit! Ask them if they'll play friendly wing-person for you at their D&D game, fantasy sports league, or some such.

Alternately: Do you have a unique and fun and shareable skillset you can share with others? Are you pretty good at drawing, programming? Simply a font of endless Merlin or NFL or Real Housewives knowledge? You might start a local Discord or other online social group to discuss and share your interests, then move it to the real world in a few weeks once folks get comfortable. You get the idea.

Most of all: Look for stuff that has more-than-just-talking opportunities available outside the designated group jam for you to maintain connections. Perhaps a group chat, a Discord, a Slack, what-have-you, where you can take more time to consider and draft your responses and posts? Connections with humans get made a thousand ways, and talking raw-dog with strangers is but one.

It takes a true social unicorn to be simply good at talking and only talking to other people. There are some of these one-horned wonders out there, to be sure — but let me assure you that the vast majority of folks want to be accepted and seen just as much as you do, and they're staring at the ceiling at night thinking just as much (more, probably) about all the weird, wonky shit they themselves threw at you than they are anything you ever said to them.

[phoenixcatch7]

Lmao I'd love to see a fic where batman like. Doesn't talk at all. He just 'hn' and 'hrm's his way through the story like a Minecraft villager. All the bat kids understand him perfectly.

I actually know people irl who can do this, and I've done it myself during bad migraines, it's practically a second language, so I know it's totally possible to have full conversations between two speakers XD!

It'd be another degree of separation between Brucie Wayne, the ditzy, breathy playboy and batman, who used up all his vocal spoons for the day and now communicates solely through unintelligible grunts and sharp hand gestures when he doesn't need to talk to strangers.

Unfortunately, the best way to learn grunt speak is the same way most languages are learned, and there's no written word (outside of emoji, of course): immersion. And the justice league are no longer considered strangers.

This leads to:

Hal: which way do we go, spooky? Where's the tracker pointing?

B: *grunt*

Hal: what?

B: *insistent grunt*

Hal:..... Can we point?

B: *dour look* *slowly raises arm to point left down the street* *sharp, insistent grunt*

Hal, dryly: don't strain yourself.

-

Damian: greyson. I am calling because father has had an injury and is bed bound for tonight, however Alfred is downstairs and the rest are still on patrol. I am still in the early stages of learning father's intonations. Please translate.

Nightwing, eldest, regularly called for exactly this reason by just about everyone Bruce has ever spoken with since he was a kid, ranging from arkham guards to jl members: *heavy sigh* put him on.

Bruce: hrng...

Nightwing: He's telling you to close the curtains and keep the noise down, he's got a headache.

Damian, over the sound of footsteps and fabric rustling: it truly is just like another language.

N: nah, it's a lot of probability. I've known b for years, I can guess pretty well. There's a lot we can say. For example, that grunt actually carried a lot more meaning, I just trimmed it down.

Damian: truly?

N: yup! If I had to be pedantic, it actually meant 'I am in quite a lot of discomfort, the cause of which is my head, and I am struggling to manage it on my own. Please aid in my cause, my darling sons whom I love dearly -'

Damian: *muffled noise through the phone*

N: that'll be him telling us to shut up. But you can see why I asked you to close the curtains.

Damian: fascinating. I shall take this under advisement.

-

B, exhausted after a long day of board meetings as Brucie: *moody silence*

Gordon: Batman, how's it going?

B: *glower* *drawn out grunt*

Gordon: that bad, huh?

-

Supes, during a briefing: I believe it would be best if we attacked from the north, we've enough flying members to crest the mountains and ambush then that way - Batman?

B: *quiet grumble, with pointer fingers moving in semicircles*

Supes: ah, I see. You're right, we'd be too visible if the sun rose behind them*turns to see the other members standing behind him* what?

Flash, bowing at the waist, palms together over his head: teach me your ways, oh mighty bat-speaker.

[merrysithmas]

Charles' line "There's so much more to you than you know" has always struck me because it's SO easy for Charles to come off unlikeable-

"There's so much more to you than you know" (But I do)

"What do you know about me? - Everything." (Whether you like it or not)

"I know what this means to you but you have to let go!" (Stop this nonsense)

"There's a mutant here already! [Exposing Hank]"

"I don't want your pain. They sent back the wrong man [To Logan]"

"I've seen what Shaw did to you"

"I feel your agony [After Nina died]"

"[Jean expresses no one knows how it feels to be tormented telepathically] Oh but I do."

Like on a base level what he communicates is such an invasion of privacy and instantly gets the hackles up because it's not natural. He can sound, at first glance, self-important and even dismissive (Erik at one point calls him 'arrogant'). Charles' telepathy gift is so alienating. He knows people's most personal thoughts, feelings, dreams, and nightmares. Seeing into someone's soul is as simple as breathing and second nature to him -- and he knows how repulsive this must be (see: how profusely he apologized for outting Hank. This speaks to a past/youth where he clearly unintentionally shared the secrets of others or caused trouble with his abilities and disturbed the people around him or endangered himself/others).

But Charles can't help his powers in the same way that Rogue can't - actually, Charles' abilities could easily been seen in some regards as the psychic equivalent to Rogue's physical gift. She can't touch ANYONE without hurting them in some manner, she is dangerous in some regard. And it's the same thing with Charles -- wherever his mind goes he exposes and hurts people. It's a side effect of his powers.

But unlike Rogue, Charles can't wear gloves. He can try to keep up psychic shields (which hurt HIM), or he can promise Raven he'll never read her mind, but he can't ever lessen his gift. He can't be perfect but he has to try. He can't or he'll be hated, despised, and feared. Rogue and he share a similar distress. Rogue suffers from touch-starvation but has to deal or she'll be seen as a monster. Charles suffers from the same kind of thing is a psychic way - he has to block his abilities or be seen as arrogant, invasive, and holier-than-thou. He has to starve his mind and powers.

So that's why it's sooooo touching that he tries SO hard to do good with it despite all that. Especially as he grows as a person and sees how powerful he can be with appendages like Cerebro. He ALWAYS makes an effort to clarify his knowledge of someone's mind with encouragement, love, understanding, and hope.

He can't help reading someone's mind but he CAN help how they react to it or how they feel about what's been exposed and the constant effort he exerts to express empathy, kindness, and aid is a testament to how hard he works to do good with his mutation. He frankly just doesn't have to do that. He could be like Emma Frost or Jean Grey or Psylocke. They know your thoughts, they use telepathy, and it's as simple as that.

Charles feels people's pain so ardently, sees their struggles so clearly, that it literally torments him not to help. How can he see that and just walk away? Innermost pain and secrets are revealed to him by nature -- he could ignore it, exploit it, or use it maliciously. Instead he takes the information and tries to help (surely in part to make up for how sensitive the invasion is).

"There's so much more to you than you know" (But one day you'll be more powerful than me. Don't get lost, keep going, you have so much more to remember and you aren't just made up of this pain that is so so heavy for you. This is not all that you are, I've seen what you forgot, I promise it's still there. You're still a person. Hold on).

"What do you know about me? - Everything" (I have seen your whole mind - the good and the bad - and still I came out here to ask you to stay. Because nothing in there scares me and in fact it gives me hope. I need you. We could do something great together.)

"I know what this means to you but you have to let go!" (They'll succeed in killing you if you let them. You deserve better)

"There's a mutant already here!" (Thank god! And you're incredible!)

"I don't want your pain. They sent back the wrong man." (Proceeds to cry at Logan's life and is amazed at his strength, you poor poor man. Is inspired to keep going from Logan's strength).

"I've seen what Shaw did to you." (Shaw did it to you. It's not a shameful secret and you aren't Frankenstein's Monster. It won't stop me from seeing who you really are. You're free).

"I feel your agony." (Come back to us. I can help you. You're not alone. You never had to leave. You still have a family. Grieve with us.)

"Oh but I do" (I survived. So will you. I didn't have help and I also had parents who didn't love me. I won't let that happen to you or leave you alone. I promise. You can sleep. You're safe. I'll protect you.)

[love-hs28]

You're the strongest person I've ever known

Summary: JJ’s had another fight with his dad and needs some comfort and help cleaning up.  CW: same stuff that’s in the show gn!reader Routledge!reader, but doesn't really effect the story Hurt/comfort & fluff 1.3k words Posted on: 5-24-24

a/n: This is my first post ever, lmk if you guys like it! Been wanting to start posting my stuff on here for a while and figured what better time to than now!

It’s almost 2 am when you hear a knocking on your window. You had been lying awake since you got home from the party and already know that it's JJ, so you get up to open it. You slide the glass open with a smile and he climbs in. “Hey Jay.”

As he’s setting his foot down, he loses his balance a bit and you have to place your hands on his shoulders to steady him. It’s already obvious that he’s a bit drunk. 

“Whoa, hey, careful.” You hear him groan as he attempts to straighten up, and he hobbles over to flop down on your desk chair. You’re not new to this, and know what this behavior usually means. 

“Had a fight with my dad. I’m fine. Just wanted to come over.” He groans again as he adjusts himself to sit more comfortably, and you sigh and come over to kneel in front of him. You tilt your head down to get a better look at him and gently put a hand on the side of his face. The room is too dark for you to see any damage that’s been done, and he hisses at the contact. 

“Shit, sorry” You quickly take your hand away but he grabs it and holds it against his chest. He sets his forehead against yours and takes a deep breath, knowing what comes next. You whisper, “Can I see?”

He does a combination of shaking and nodding his head and reluctantly looks up, but avoids eye contact and looks just to the right of your face. There’s enough light on him now to see a black eye forming and the cuts on his lip and cheek. You let out a shaky breath and squeeze his hand. It’s not hard to imagine what the rest of his body looks like. “Oh, Jay,” you whisper, and he shakes his head and squeezes your hand back. “I’m alright, y/n. Just a little roughed up. ‘s good for building character, right?” You know he uses humor to cope and your heart breaks at the sad smile on his face.

You stand up, not letting go of his hand, and lead him to your bathroom. You softly pat the counter next to the sink as a signal for him to take a seat, and he does. You open the bathroom closet and grab the first aid kid, careful to keep quiet so as to not wake John B. You can see JJ watching you with a loving but tired look in his eyes that causes you to slightly blush. As you’re setting up the supplies on the counter he gently puts a hand to the side of your face, halting your movements. He smiles drunkenly and uses his other hand to brush the hair from your face. 

“You’re so beautiful” he whispers, absentmindedly playing with the hem of your pajama shorts. You smile and gently rub his thigh. You whisper back “So are you,” and gently kiss his less-hurt cheek and get back to setting up the supplies. JJ starts swinging his feet, accidently kicking the counter and earning a soft glare from you, which he just giggles at. “Yeah, but you’re beautifuler. The most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” he sighs, still staring deep into your eyes, and you grab the alcohol and put some on a cotton ball. “Oh, you’re too sweet” you say, and brush his hair out of his face. “Alright, this might sting a little. You can hold on to me if you want.” He messily shakes his head, “‘s okay. I’m strong.” You look into his eyes sadly with a little sad smile, “I know you are.” Regardless of his strength, he sets his hands on your waist preparing for the all too familiar pain.

You gently dab at the cuts on his cheek and lip and he hisses and closes his eyes, trying to act strong in front of you, but squeezing hard on your hips. “I’m sorry honey, almost done.” You dab a few more times and wipe a few until it looks clean enough. You softly kiss his forehead and he rests it on your shoulder. You can feel him breathing heavy. 

“You’re okay, Jay. You’re safe now, I’m right here. I got you.” You rub his back and he starts to cry a bit. He looks up at you with a shaky lip, “I’m sorry. I hate that you have to see me like this. I just didn’t know where else to go.” His voice is shaking and your heart breaks as you shake your head and put a hand to his face to brush his hair. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you came to me. Come to me everytime, please. Seeing you like this doesn’t make me think you’re weak. It makes me think you’re the strongest person I’ve ever known and I hate that you have to go through this shit.” A tear rolls down your cheek and he gently wipes it. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” You shake your head and look down to get the bandages. When you look back up at him he’s looking at you with so much emotion that you feel your heart skip a few beats.

“I love you.” He says, and pulls you in by your waist. “I love you more” you say, and lean into him and hug him close, careful to avoid his abdomen, which you’re 99% sure is covered in bruises. You hug for a minute or two, giving you both the chance to calm your breathing, and you eventually lean back and quickly wipe your eyes. You brush the hair out of his face again, “Let me get these bandages on you and then we can head to bed, yeah?” He nods, hands not leaving your waist. After covering up the cuts on his face, you look up at him reluctantly. 

“Can I.. Could you lift up your shirt? I just want to make sure nothing else needs tending to.” He slowly nods and lifts his t-shirt up, exposing the bottom few inches of his torso. Your hand immediately comes up to cover your mouth and you choke in a sob as you see the bruises already beginning to form on his stomach. You can’t even begin to imagine how he must feel. JJ shakes his head and uses his hand to gently guide you to look back into his eyes. 

“Hey. No crying, remember? I’m okay, promise. They’ll be gone in a few days. Week tops. Nothin we can do about it, you know?” You bite your lip to stop it from shaking and he pulls you in for another hug. You grip onto his shirt for a minute, then he leans back to kiss you gently. “You look tired. I’m sorry I woke you up.” You shake your head and kiss his hand. “No, don’t be, I was awake when you got here, couldn’t sleep.” He tilts his head with a concerned look. “Everything okay?” You softly laugh and shake your head, setting your hands on his knees and looking into his eyes. “You’re sitting here on my sink all beaten up and you’re asking me if I’m okay?” He returns the laugh and rubs your cheek with his thumb. “What did I do to deserve you,” you whisper as you look deep into his eyes and gently rub his leg. He looks at you like you’ve just said something crazy. “You kidding? I should be the one asking that. I don’t know where I’d be without you. You’re my everything. My best friend. My favorite person.” You try harder not to cry, failing a bit, and share a sweet smile for a moment. You eventually have to put the stuff away, and you take one more deep breath, smoothing your hair and wiping your eyes one last time. “Alright, big guy, let’s get you to bed, okay?” He nods, the sleepiness beginning to set in for the both of you. 

You head back to your room and help him get situated in bed, climbing in next to him, careful not to hurt him any further. 

“I love you,” he whispers as he’s falling asleep. “I love you more,” you whisper back, kissing his shoulder and finally letting the sleep overcome you.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading!! Let me know what you think and if anything should be changed. I might upload some more in the future, depending on how this does! :) 

Also lmk if I should change the POV, like if third person or first person would be better :) I will prob be coming back to edit this every now and then if I find something to change, which is very likely. 

And PLEASE send in any requests if you have any!!

xoxo

[atsoomi]

"I'm disappointed in you." 

There are times in your relationship with Nanami where you feel like you're dating a forty year old father rather than a twenty eight year old sorcerer, now is one of them. You set your cup of tea down and inch closer to him on the couch, having been through this many times before."You always say that." 

He sighs, "you always disappointed me."

You laugh and place your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arm around his firm bicep. He smells like jasmines and white grapes, your favorite deodorant, one you've been using before you even met. Ever since you introduced him to it, he hasn't been anywhere without smelling like jasmines, without smelling like you. You bury your nose in his suit to take it in, humming against his shoulder.

"A bad grade isn't the end of the world babe." You speak, craning your neck to look up at him through your lashes, hoping that your allure would be enough to get him to abandon the grade report paper— the damn paper that's stealing all his attention right now. How'd you lose to a piece of paper? 

"I know," he sighs, again, "but I specifically helped you with this subject. Was my aid not sufficient? Do you need a private tutor?" 

His voice shouldn't be so raspy and sexy when he's scolding you like a disappointed father, but it is, and you can't do anything about it except pretend to show remorse so he can kiss you breathless when he's done.  

"No, you're good enough, baby. I just made a few dumb mistakes on the final, don't worry about it." You kiss his cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck. One of his arms comes up to wrap around your waist and you internally cheer at the small win. 

"I see. You'll do better next time, then?" He turns to look at you and your faces become so close that you can feel his warm breath against your lips,your stomach aches with desire to close the gap. Mindlessly, you nod, "mhm." 

"Good," his eyes move down to your lips and your heart skips a few beats in anticipation, "then I trust you're ready for punishment if you don't improve next time?" 

The word punishment when he's so close sets your nervous system on fire, you feel your breathing accelerate, your response comes out breathless. "You can do anything you want to me Ken, I'm all yours." 

He smiles slowly, "anything?" 

"Anything." 

"Good," he pauses, "next time you get a bad grade, we'll be sleeping in separate beds." 

It takes you a minute to process what he said and leave the lavender haze you were so conveniently drowning in a few minutes ago, but the shift in tone doesn't stop there. The arm around your waist retracts and you feel like the carpet's been pulled out from under your feet, he looks back at the report card. 

"It's truly a shame that I put so much effort into helping you and you lost so many marks over dumb mistakes." He stands up and you're left leaning on air. "I expected better from you," he shakes his head in disapproval, making his way to your bedroom. 

Your mind is malfunctioning but you slowly realize he's about to lock himself in, effectively prohibiting you from your daily Nanami dose. You stand up immediately, stumbling over the couch as you try to regain balance. 

"Wait nanami, babe, wait, where are you going!" 

He continues walking as you trail after him, he actually starts speed walking, you have to start running. "I'm leaving you alone to reflect on your actions, maybe that'll make you rethink when you're making dumb mistakes."

"Oh my god, Kento," you catch up to him, pulling on his blazer like a desperate child, "when I said I wanted you to be my daddy I didn't mean like this." 

He finally stops and turns to look at you, you can see a rare smile on his face, maybe even a hint of teasing. 

"Well it's a full package," he wraps his arms around you again and you sigh in relief, "you either take it all or leave it." 

You pout and poke his chest, "you're so mean to me." He kisses your forehead, the smile he kisses you with causing a warm tingle in your chest, "I'm only disciplining you my love. I go too easy on you sometimes." 

You rest your chin on his chest, wrapping your arms around him as you look up, "I like it when you're easy on me though." 

He laughs, a low rare sound that rings inside your shared apartment, a sound you don't think he produces outside of these walls, and the deep vibrations it sends from his chest to yours makes your heart sing. The sight of his laughing face, the kindness in his eyes, the sweet taste of his lips that you know you'll get to try every day from here till forever— you love nanami kento, and everything is alright.

"I know," he plants a soft peck on your lips, pulling up to admire your face before he goes in for a full kiss, making the teasing all worth it, "I know, my love."

[cvnt4him]

..............................................

It doesn't make any sense to him, really.

How did you, the same person he, not that'd it even come up in conversation, helplessly.... 'massaged' himself a little too 'roughly' until he blew his load, how did you have him like this? You were towering over him on his bed as he held your hips, bucking into you, god he needs you so bad. You felt that and you ate it up. You loved the fact he needed you.

The room was filled with hot breaths and moans accompanied by groans and whines occasionally, it was a little misunderstanding really, you had never intended to get the #1 hero all hot and bothered while spending the day with him for your little vlog.

"SPENDING THE DAY WITH THE #1 HERO!!!"

The title of your YouTube video, you just wanted to meet him is all, and when he dm'd YOU, for a colab? You were over the moon!! You'd wanted to meet him for so long!! Maybe at a meet n greet, or some kind of convention, or anything else but no, he wanted to colab with you.

You were in another state at the time, filming in case you have some kind of posting material, when he told you you'd be flying in his very own private jet??? Yeah what kind of Wattpad fanfic is this?? This doesn't just happen in real life, and yet it did, to you.

The way he hugged you for the first time like he loved the warmth you aid to him, like your body was just what he needed, craved. God if only you knew what slutty dirty things he did to himself thinking of you that night, you'd be so disgusted in him!!

Or would you?

That question was all that clouded poor zuzus thoughts as he studied and observed you very closely as you spent your time together.

"we'll be staying in my penthouse! It's pretty big so you can have your own room until I fly you back out to New York!! If that's alright with you, of course."

He spoke to you in the sweetest, calmest, voice ever, his words so hypnotic, he hadn't realized you'd practically been under his spell for so long, this really was the dream, meeting your celebrity crush, STAYING WITH HIM?? You're sleeping, in his very own house. penthouse, that is.

You two played games, watched movies, and you asked him questions his very own fans would've loved to have known. And he shared every detail with you, with pure utter truth laced in his words. Everything he told you was true, because he felt he couldn't lie to you. You were so pure!! Such an angel! You didn't deserve to be lied to or harmed, ever!

"and that was 'spending the day with izuku midoriya'!!' you say as you end your video with your normal 'like n subscribe' shit and turn your camera off sighing at how much footage you'll have to edit and keep to yourself, but hey at least you got a day with your husband out of it!!

He looked at you, observingly, as you sigh and out your hand in the back of your neck in a tired sense.

"man you don't know how tiring it really is being an influencer, haha!" You joke.

He chuckled lightly, gaze still locked on you, your hands, how much smaller they are in comparison to his, how soft they are, how well you'd please him with them.

He really didn't want his mind going there with you, honest! It was never his intentions!! But how could he help himself? You were just so mesmerizing, corrupting. Izuku had never been such a pervert before he'd looked at your beautiful face!

So really, these thoughts, his growing erection that painfully twitches behind his zipper, the amount of precum leaking from his already needy and ready cock, it's your fault. All your fault.

If you hadn't looked so good, spoke to him with a honey like voice, with such a sultry tone, he wouldn't have gotten these thoughts! He wouldn't have gotten this hard.

So yeah, when he stood and glided behind you and put his hands on your shoulder, rubbing and massaging the tense area, causing a low moan to rip right out of you, which he heard and accepted, there was no way, in any way, any if this could even remotely be his fault!

He was just giving you what he knew you needed, a nice relaxing massage. Like the one he gave himself 2 weeks ago listening to the sound of your drunken voice and slurred words as you fan girls over meeting him, how much you loved his suit and how sexy you really thought he was, it's a shame you hadn't actually gotten to see him in his hero suit much today, maybe some other time!

He continued to massage you little whimpers escaping you from the rough yet gentle motions of his heavy, warm, hands, the way his hands trailed up to your neck then back down to your shoulders, it felt so amazing, you couldn't help but close your eyes and let him control you.

You hadn't realized it at first, but this slut really was pressing his oh so hard cock right up against your back, and he.. was he moaning?

The sounds of this grown adult man, whimpering lightly above you, grinding his weeping cock, against your back like some teenaged virgin, made your eyes shoot wide open, you didn't move, you say there, listening and being patient to assure this was what was actually happening.

Once you were sure, you quickly whipped your body around to look at him with a smirk, he jumped in confusion and terror, he was so afraid that you had caught onto what he was doing, and you did.

You scoffed, and looked him up and down, eyes trailing back down to his hard on them widening at the heavy amount of precum that left his still twitching cock.

Damn, well at least you knew his cock was thick and strong enough to make his pants move along with his cock.

"had you really thought I didn't notice the way you were grinding against me like a slut?"

He whimpered opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. It was never his intentions!!! Honest!! Why won't you believe him! This is your fault anyways!! Take responsibility!

He thought of what he wanted to say, opening his mouth before being completely shut down by you, as you laughed out loud at the sight in front of you, his eyes were glossy, his cock was still twitching, and his hair was slightly messy, was he really gonna cum against your back?

"wow, I idolized a hero, a man known for his big bright smile, a smile that could save a man's life. And yet, here he is, rubbing his disgusting cock against his acquaintance, not even, technically a business partner. I never knew you were such a dirty, pathetic, slut."

He looked at you in horror, fuck. He really was a slut. And damn did it get him so hot and bothered when you called him one, the way you spat venom with each word that left your beautifully glossed lips, a smirk still painted upon your features, and you scoff once more.

He looked as if he was gonna cry, really he did, you laughed at that.

"are you really gonna cry because I caught you, being a dirty whore? God, you really are pathetic."

You laughed again, but you hadn't known, the real reason he was gonna cry was because, yeah sure, he was humiliated and embarrassed, but he was teary eyed because he was enjoying it. He knew he was a slut, only slits enjoy being degraded in such ways, with such hurtful names, he enjoyed it so much his cock started leaking again.

You wiped a tear that left your eye from the belly laugh you just had, as you sigh with a smile still on your face, you look at him in his eyes as he instantly looked away, covering his face with his arm.

"This is your fault.."

He said to you, in the softest, sluttiest, shakiest voice he could muster up.

It really was pathetic you almost busted out laughing again, but you'd thought you'd spare him the extra embarrassment.

You were curious on what he meant by 'your fault'.

"whatever do you mean, midoriya?"

You ask blessing him with the beautiful sound of you calling him by his last name.

He couldn't even look at you, let alone speak. He sighed, arm still covering his red, sweaty, freckled face.

So he asks himself again, how did you, manage to get on top of him, stroking his leaky, dribbling cock as he moans and writhes underneath you, you had demanded he tie himself up with black whip and he obeyed without a word. He needed this and you loved that.

You had been edging him for an hour now, he hadn't came but he felt like he could, all he wanted to do was cum for you, all he wanted was to please you, be inside of you!

You were really bullying and torturing him for basically defending himself against your forceful will. You were the one who started rubbing your neck as your shirt draped off of your shoulder.

You did this to him, and yet he's being punished? It wasn't fair! He didn't deserve to be edged and tortured by your, just as predicted, soft, smaller than, hands, the way you held his thick cock with both of your hands, your fingers not being able to touch around his slightly veined length, he loved how much you enjoyed getting him off like this, hell just blatantly torturing him, so you endured it for a little while longer, for you.

His pants and boxers had been ruined with his precum, you had discarded them long ago, you rub your hands up and down his cock in painfully fast strokes, it hurt so bad all he could do was sob underneath you and arch up into your touch.

His leaky cock just wouldn't stop leaking, giving you more precum every time you gave his pretty glossed cock a full stroke, you rubbed the tip of his cock repeatedly, rubbing and smearing his sticky precum around the head of his cock, earning a loud whine from him, he was putty in your pretty, manicured hands.

"do you want it, big boy? Does my big strong man need it? Need to cum?~" you tease and coo to him in a baby like voice, with pouty lips, laughing at his reactions to this, he nodded eagerly with little 'yes please's and 'mhm!'s leaving his plump lips that had been chewed to the point its practically numb.

You continued your fast strokes before pulling both your hands away laughing at his body leaning forward for your touch, the sobs and heavy tears that leave his body are genuinely so cute.

He wanted to cum so badly, he needed it! How could you be so cruel!

"please.. please! Let me.. make me cum!! Mommy~..."

He whined with a string of pleas leaving his mouth as he sobs helplessly begging for the release he needed, he could taste, he just needed you to get him there.

Oh?

That's new? And actually, oddly fucking hot, you'd never been called mommy before, you actually fucking liked it.

"what's that, pretty boy?"

He hadn't meant for it to slip! It just did! He felt far too good in the given moment and had to beg for his release which you still haven't graced upon him.

He whined and looked away, you scoff and think, how will you get him to call you mommy again?

Oh, that's right, bargaining!

"alright, midoriya, let's make a deal. You call me mommy again, no, beg for me, whilst calling me mommy, and I'll let you come, promise."

He listened, he liked the way that sounded.

He gulped down hard, look at you with those big die eyes of his, batting away tears threatening to spill from him, as he sighed shakily.

"please... mommy?" Was all he gave, his voice whispered as he looked up at you with tired pleading eyes,he sighed frowning deeply as he was sticky in sweat and his own pre, his cock still twitching and aching, he needed it but he wasn't going to make you give it to him, he truly was a good boy!!

You sighed, satisfied with what he'd given you, and you finally, granted him with the sweet relief of cumming his brains out, which he did, beautifully as he shook and turned and sobbed begging for the sweet release while you stroked his cock in a hurried pace, you were glad you'd given him the sweet and savory release he needed.

"good boy."

Was all you said as he rolled his eyes back and shot thick, white, planks of his hot white cum all over your hands, shirt, and all over his own chest, he always came a lot, so this was expected from him, however you, you hadn't expected there to be this much, and hell he was stilk cumming, little drips of his white seed still spilling from his overstimulated, twitching, cock now softening in you palm as you petted his thick girth it lying limp in your hand.

He sighed in relief, he'd finally cum and was spent, all he wanted now was to cuddle the cause of his explosion of an orgasm.

Which you granted, you hadn't expected to start dating after this, but you'd better believe you'd be meeting like this again. He vowed that he'd bend you over every surface he had to, to get you obsessed and brain dead with his cock, it belonged to you.

..............................................

AN; I feel like this is pretty good, now that I'm for the most part well rested and not in a mood, I think I wrote this well enough! Enjoy babes<33

Taggies!!; @lovelykil, @heromissy, @v3n7s, @lily-sinclair-2006

[slutforgarlogan]

"You can check if you like" | Peter Maximoff x F! Reader

Summary: Peter comes back from a mission with a wound and you patch him up. He takes the opportunity to tease you.

Warnings: nsfw content, fingering, teasing, Peter being a cocky asshole

"Oh my god what happened to you?" you jump up from your seat when the team gets back from their mission, noticing the bleeding coming from your boyfriends head. You'd be lying if you said he didn't look hot all bloodied up, but you were too concerned with his wellbeing to indulge in the urge to make out with him.

Peter gives you his usual cocky smile, ignoring your concern "I'm fine babe, its just a scratch." You aren't convinced, but you know he wont go back on the statement, ever the cocky bitch despite his constant dramatics. You raise an eyebrow at him to indicate you dont believe him, "Please just let me look at it anyway"

Peter rolls his eyes and groans, smiling at you playfully while he does so - but he doesn't protest and takes you to one of the bathrooms with a fwip.

Though he does that all the time, you never expect it - and the speed always makes you feel ill and disoriented. You take a second to ground yourself, before getting the first aid things out of the bathroom cabinet to sort him out, and speaking to him as you rifle through it. "You're okay everywhere else yeah, nothing got through your suit?"

"You can check if you like" His tone is suggestive and he wiggles his eyebrows, and you roll your eyes at his answer - taking that as a no. He watches you for a second, and then sits down on the closed toilet lid before you have the chance to tell him to.

You move to stand in front of him, subconsciously situating yourself between his legs where he was practically manspread, and you push his goggles onto the top of his head, trying to make sure his hair stays tucked under them and out the way. The cut looks deep, and you wince a little thinking about it. You lock eyes with him as you pick up a little cotton pad and alcohol to clean the wound - you've done this a fair few times and he knows the drill, but you warn him regardless. "It's gonna sting a second Quickie"

You press the alochol soaked cotton pad on the wound, making sure to be gentle, and Peter grips onto the nearest thing when you do so, which happens to be your thigh. The feel of his hand on you shoots to your core immediately, and your breath hitches for half a second before you catch yourself and ignore it. You keep cleaning the wound, eventually moving on to clean the dried blood around it, and Peters leg is bouncing as he starts to get bored and restless.

You lock eyes with him and lean back a second. "Peter, sit still, find something in here to distract yourself im nearly done i promise" There's a certain look in his eye when he looks at you, and you can see an idea forming in his head, and you worry slightly what ridiculous idea you've accidentally caused him to have, but you get back to what you're doing anyway.

As you grab a roll of bandaid and scissors to cut it down to fit the wound, you feel a hand at the top of your thigh, fingers hooking into your panties to get them down a little - you try to ignore it and focus on finishing what you're doing, holding the roll up unrolling a little bit to see how much you need.

You hear a little cocky laugh from Peter as his finger prods at your folds and you could have ripped his suit off him there and then. But you try not to react, steadying your breathing before you look at him. "Whats funny"

He looks up at you, a shit eating grin on his face. "You're so wet and i haven't even touched you"

A pink shade dusks over your cheeks as you roll your eyes, in your head you know exactly what made you wet, but you know he'll poke fun at you for it so you don't tell him. "Shut up"

You cut a bit of a bandaid off the roll, big enough to fit the wound, and as you do so, he slides a finger into you, thrusting it in and out at a painfully slow pace - but he doesnt take long to slide a second finger in. He is still in his suit, and the gloves of the suit feel weird. The feeling is foreign but good. Your breathing goes a bit shaky as you try to concentrate, putting the roll down and picking up the bit you cut off, flipping it around to peel the back off, struggling a little fiddling with it.

Peter speeds up his fingers, curling them inside you to hit the spot that makes you whine a little, earning the same shit eating grin as before as he makes sure to keep hitting that spot. He brings his other hand to circle your clit as you finally get the back off the band aid, and you moan out as he draws figure 8's over the sensitive bud. "Fuckk Peter"

You stick the band-aid over the wound carefully but quickly, placing your hands on his shoulders as soon as you're done, breathing heavily and whimpering a bit. "Peter please"

He speeds up the finger on your clit, practically vibrating it and you moan loudly, legs shaking as you try hold yourself up properly and your walls clench around his fingers a little.

Thats when he stops. You look at him with pleading eyes "What the fuck"

He laughs a little "You've finsihed patching me up"

You look at him dumbfounded and annoyed, you open your mouth to protest but he speaks before you.

"You wanna check under my suit now?"

[vatiiagames]

DEMO || FORUM || CONTENT WARNING

Vessel of Harkahn is an upcoming 18+ fantasy interactive novel that takes inspiration from the Dragon Age series, TTRPGs, A Song of Ice and Fire, as well as several other pieces of media.

⚡️ The Short Demo is complete! (As of 08/08/24)

⚡️ The Forum and Content Warning pages are a WIP! (As of 06/29/24)

When the Grand Duke of Le Versare is assassinated, his surviving children are left to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.

With hardly any time to mourn their father, the Aurelios twins are approached by a mage who has suspicion to believe the assassination is tied to several events across the continent.

The mage also believes demonic influence in involved.

Many months after the assassination, Carlise Aurelios and Varre Delatore have discovered the resurgence of the demon Harkahn. The demon feasts on hatred and chaos but is much weaker than his first appearance centuries ago.

Harkahn now requires a vessel to survive in the mortal plane. He has yet to become strong enough to shed his vessel and exist in his demonic form.

You are his chosen vessel. Or, at least, you were.

After exorcising the demon from you, Carlise and Varre recruit you into the Band of Althor to aid their cause of defeating Harkahn. Seeing as you were his vessel, you have priceless intel on the demon's mind. You may have insight to his plans or possible weaknesses.

The only issue? You can't remember anything from your time possessed and even memories from before are foggy and shrouded. Trying to remember these lost memories causes you immense physical pain.

For now, you must find another way to help Carlise and Varre's cause.

⚡️ Create and customize your MC "The Vessel".

⚡️ Play as male, female or nonbinary.

⚡️ Play as an Elf, Half-Elf or Human.

⚡️ Choose from three classes to play from; Warrior, Rogue or Mage. Each class has its own unique Mentor.

⚡️ Shape your skills as you play.

⚡️ Six romance options to choose from alongside secret routes to discover as the story progresses. (All romance options are romanceable regardless of gender.)

⚡️ Help recruit others throughout Caadvir to join the Band of Althor. There is strength in numbers.

⚡️ Discover more about your lost memories and the significance of your Mentor.

Asan Aurelios || The Heir || Human

As the older one of the twins, Asan is the hereditary Grand Duke. He has big shoes to fill after his father's long and peaceful reign. Despite the weight on his shoulders, Asan keeps a bright smile on his face and pushes forward. He is more than supportive of Carlise's efforts to dispose of Harkahn, he just has other political matters to attend to.

Asan hails from the province Le Versare.

Carlise Aurelios || The Leader || Human || RO

As the younger one of the twins, Carlise doesn't hold as much weight to her shoulders. The line of succession has passed to her brother, which allows her to focus entirely on disposing of the demon Harkahn. She is calculating and, at times, cold. Carlise is the founder and leader of the Band of Althor and is greatly respected.

Carlise hails from the province Le Versare.

Varre Delatore || The Mage || Elf || RO

Varre is an extremely talented and powerful mage. He has spent many years studying and mastering magic at the White Tower of Castavel. His knowledge and experience is what drove him to discover Harkahn's resurgence and its influence throughout Caadvir. Varre approached Carlise and Asan about their father's assassination and its relation to Harkahn and has been by their side ever since. He aided Carlise in founding the Band of Althor.

Varre hails from the province Castavel.

Ewan Geraunt || The Viper || Human || RO

Ewan is part of the mercenary group called the Vipers of Venoss. They are regarded as the best mercenary group throughout Caadvir and some of their numbers have been worked all across the world. Ewan is a higher ranking member of the Vipers, but left the group shortly after experiencing an odd dream. After learning his birthplace suffered an attack from Harkahn, he immediately turned to the Band of Althor to serve their cause.

Ewan hails from the province Venoss.

Dea || The Halfblood || Half-Elf || RO

Dea had no place in Ordaire. As a place still ruled by their distaste for humans, half-elfs are heavily frowned upon and outcast by society. She spent many years in and out of street and bar fights alike. Like Ewan she found herself in a mercenary band, but unlike him it didn't last too long. She jumped from band to band, job to job, until she landed on the Band of Althor. She works for Carlise now but who knows how long that will last?

Dea hails from the province Ordaire.

Kizan Fremont || The Knight || Human || RO

The Fremont family have long been allies of the Aurelios family. Kizan's father before him served the Grand Duke of Le Versare as his protector. The mantle was passed to Kizan a few years prior to the assassination. He is the Knight Commander of Le Versare's Order of Cor. While his duties keep him busy most of the time, Kizan will always find time for himself and make the most of it.

Kizan hails from the province Le Versare.

Amysa Briarfel || The Apprentice || Human || RO

Amysa has spent much time studying magic at the White Tower of Castavel. She plans to become a Mentor at the tower, which has earned her the title of Apprentice. Part of Amysa's apprenticeship is traveling throughout Caadvir and assisting different noble houses. When she finally landed upon House Aurelios, she willingly chose to put her apprenticeship on hold to stay and help the Band of Althor.

Amysa hails from the province Xinthe.

Préaux || Warrior Mentor || Human

Préaux is a well-known and respected knight from Itresse. They served the Grand Duke of Itresse for many years before retiring and disappearing entirely. Préaux earned many nicknames throughout their life like 'The Saint of Silver' and 'The Silver Serpent'.

Préaux hails from the province Itresse.

Jaq the Grin || Rogue Mentor || Half-Elf

Jaq the Grin is an infamous thief who terrorizes Caadvir. They have never been caught or really seen. Those who claim to have witnessed Jaq state that the only thing they could remember from the encounter was Jaq's impossibly huge grin, which earned them their nickname.

Jaq the Grin hails from the province Ordaire.

Erina || Mage Mentor || Elf

Erina is a Mentor at the White Tower of Castavel. Having served many years as a Mentor, Erina is highly respected and not a force to be trifled with. Many students of Erina have gone forth to achieve greatness in their lives, such as serving a Grand Duke or King or Queen.

Erina hails from the province Venoss.

[godspeedviper]

How the therapists react to your "worst" symptoms - Headcanons

SFW || TW: mentions of self harm, mention of suicidal ideation, therapy sessions, very brief mention of (unlabeled) disordered eating, mention of psychosis & violent thoughts.

A/N: this was written by someone who has been in therapy for many years and has personal experience with these types of symptoms. this is not meant to romanticize any mental illness or symptoms of it. this is purely self indulgent fluff. just because your experience might be different doesn't make these experiences any less valid. if you don't like this simply do not read it, block if you must, and move on.

Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow)

He is the most objective and detached of the lot. Therefore he never seems to have much of a reaction no matter what you do or say to him. He really has seen it all before. This does help you feel less anxious as time goes on, knowing he won't ever judge you or ascribe any kind of morality to your actions.

"If it causes you distress or harm, then we should work towards eliminating it altogether." is his typical response to your concerns about your own coping mechanisms. "You do not owe anyone kindness, just remember to restrain yourself from causing harm whenever possible."

He is the only one to have no discernible reaction to your self harm scars/burns. One day, he noticed an especially fresh one and offered to disinfect and bandage the wound for you. He always gives you space to bring things up at your own pace, when you feel comfortable doing so.

"Not all of us have the capacity to be so gentle, and that's alright." he says about your outbursts. "I'm not known for being the warmest, but that doesn't make me any less skilled at my work, or any less worthy of respect. If you do not hold my lack of socially acceptable agreeableness against me, then you should not hold it against yourself."

Bonus: when you finally have the courage to mention the substance usage he remains as cool and detached as ever. "I am glad you were honest with me so we can monitor for any interactions with your medications. Know that I won't judge you for moderate usage, after all, do we not professionally refer to medications as drugs? It isn't ideal, but it is a way of self medicating. All I ask is that you be fully honest with me about your usage so I can better take care of you."

Hannibal Lecter (NBC)

He is surprisingly gentle and very soft spoken, although you were intimidated by him at first and the opulence of his office. He usually greets you with a warm smile and asks how your week went and if you've eaten yet today. He teaches you to enjoy food again, describing it as an art, and asking you to be mindful and present when enjoying a meal. Listen to your body, what it tells you about the ingredients, the quality of the meal, and the hands that made it.

He always asks you what you want to do, making sure to actively include you in your own treatment plan. He thoroughly explains treatment options, medications and their possible side effects, and has you weigh your options. This allows you to really analyze your own reactions and act accordingly when you are alone.

"Now, you do understand I am required to recommend inpatient treatment if you are feeling actively suicidal." he says, when you come in on an extra bad day. "However, I want to trust you and give you the option of what to do from here. If you think it will do you more harm than good, let me know, but you have to be honest."

One day you get the courage to ask why there is a first aid kit on his desk, though you already assume why. He simply looks at you and asks "Do you need it today?" before gently tending to your recent self harm wounds. He never calls you out for it, but he does periodically ask you upfront if you've been engaging in self injurious behaviors. If you respond yes, he asks to tend to your wounds, and if you say no, he celebrates with you. "Good. I'm proud of you for holding yourself back."

Bonus: when you land in the hospital, Hannibal makes sure to go visit you while your therapy slot is on hold. He never calls attention to the circumstances that lead you here, and focuses solely on your recovery and how he can't wait to have you back in the office soon.

Harleen Quinzel (Harley Quinn)

It doesn't take long for her to shed her professional demeanor. She makes you feel like you're talking to a close friend, yet manages to never fully lose the "doctor" in her. She offers you fidget toys as a way to ease the tension of talking about such vulnerable and heavy subjects.

She makes everything into a little game or a challenge to motivate you changing habits. Every time you manage to avoid indulging in negative coping mechanisms, she rewards you with a little heart shaped chocolate at the end of the session. On bad days, she simply encourages you to try again and she gifts you a cute bandaid at the end of the session to signify your healing from a bad day (sometimes, the bandaids come in handy for self harm wounds).

"Being childish can be a good thing!" she tells you. "Its important to have a little whimsy in your life. Just because you grew up doesn't mean you have to... ya know, grow up." She encourages you to try and add a little joy to your daily life. You start taking fuzzy tipped pens to work and keeping plushies at home for comfort. Surprisingly, it does help.

Every now and again she asks for your advice or assistance on minor things, such as which dress she should wear for a date, or what show to watch next. Sure, you are technically paying for her time, but this fact alone doesn't entirely relieve you of the feeling that you are burdensome. Whenever that feeling creeps back up, she reminds you of all the times you helped her make decisions until you admit your usefulness with a smile.

Bonus: "Hearing voices or other noises doesn't make you evil." is her reply when she learns of your psychotic symptoms. "Everyone is susceptible to experiencing psychosis. Hell, I've felt it when I was losing sleep in med school. It doesn't make you a bad person."

Hannibal Lecter (Silence of the Lambs)

You are intimidated by him at first, but his hypnotic voice grows on you. He always sounds so self assured, but never assertive. He has an almost paternal quality to him, making you feel simultaneously comfortable and protected.

He always listens to you intently, you never feel ignored by him. Hannibal is the only one that makes you feel seen and you tell him as much. "Oh everyone sees you my dear, you can be assured of that, but not everyone has the courage to acknowledge you. Keep this in mind for the next time you should feel the urge to do something drastic for attention."

You were worried you would eventually do something to turn him away, as you had to so many therapists before him. However, he simply scoffs at the idea that you could ever do anything that could possibly frighten him or upset him.

When you finally have the courage to tell him about the violent intrusive thoughts he remains as calm as ever. "In the past, we humans had to hunt to survive. We also had to protect ourselves and our kin. As time goes on, that propensity for violence remains, even if our survival is no longer dependent on it."

Bonus: You come clean to him about getting into a fight with someone, being entirely overtaken by rage and paranoia. You call yourself a monster and cry. "I have worked with serial killers, family annihilators, rapists the worst that the world has to offer. I know monsters. You are not one. You wanna know why?" You nod yes. "Because my dear, you have remorse and regret for your actions, they do not. Besides, you would not be sitting here with me if you did not want the anger to control you."

AO3 || Guidelines || Request || Ko-Fi

[ponderingmoonlight]

Giyuu Tomioka stopping you from killing Nezuko with his own methods

Pairing: Giyuu x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,6k

Synopsis: When you were assigned to assist Shinobu and your former master and secret crush Giyuu, you never imagined to find him saving a demon. How is he supposed to stop you from fulfilling your duty, from hating him?

Warnings: hurt to comfort, Giyuu is...well, Giyuu. As always in my kny fics, I'm using some ai pics so if this doesn't sit right with you don't go any further, not 100% proofread, let me know what you think <3

“I will assist the young slayers in this area. Are you okay with aiding Tomioka?”

Your heart skips a beat by the sheer sound of his name. The man who trained you so well that you’d be a hashira if he wasn’t still stronger than you. The man with the ocean blue eyes, the calmest composure, who never talks much but always finds the right words.

Giyuu Tomioka, the men you fell hopelessly in love with a long time ago.

“I am”, you reply, concentrated on his smell that hangs in the air.

He ran down here just like you do now. Where is he? Is he alright? Hopefully no one was hurt.

“I thought so”, Shinobu replies with a kind smile.

It’s not a secret to any hashira anymore how you feel for the water pillar. Maybe it’s because you share the same breathing style, maybe it’s the fact that he knows how to tame down your pounding heart, to give you the calmness you need in these turbulent times.

“Take care of yourself, I’m sure you’ll do great!”

With that, the insect pillar disappears into the other direction of the forest, leaving you alone with your pounding heartbeat and the stinging smell of blood that hangs in the air. You grip the handle of your sword tighter, dash forward a little faster. You can do this. After all, Giyuu Tomioka was a great teacher.

He didn’t prepare you for the scene that lays itself out in front of your eyes, though. A demon lying on the floor along with a boy, just inches away. Him, bending over them. If it stretches out its hand, if it hits him with full force… Out of instinct, you pick up your pace, race towards him as fast as you can. You need to save him, need to kill that demon, you-

You can’t believe your eyes. The blade of your sword crushes into another one. Not the claws of a demon, not the katana of the boy lying on the floor.

It’s Giyuu’s sword.

You glide through the air elegantly, eyes meeting his ocean blue orbs that don’t show anything but calmness. Is he…protecting them?

“I’m begging you to spare them.”

You can’t believe your ears, the urgent tone in his voice so unusual that you can’t help but stop in your tracks. Is this really Giyuu? The man who taught you to kill every demon on your way? The man who never hesitates, who does his duty without thinking twice? Right now, he positioned himself between you and both of them, his sword ready to dodge your attack all over again.

“She’s a demon”, you clarify, eyes wandering to the girl who lays on the floor and eyes you sceptically.

No, this isn’t right. You can’t just stand here and do nothing. Without replying to his words, you dash forward again just the way he taught you.

Only to get greeted by his blade again.

He grabs your arm gently and pulls you closer with a swift motion of his trained body. You hold your breath, heart pounding out of your chest all over again. Giyuu being so close to you, Giyuu protecting a demon…

“What has gotten into you?”, you breathe out.

Oh, how lovely your haori sparkles in the down-going sun, how gorgeous your eyes gleam only inches away from his own face. Will he ever get enough from simply looking at you, from studying every inch of your colourful orbs? You really learned how to handle your sword well, the elegant movements of your body surpassing his own.

No. He shakes his head ever so slightly. This is not the right time to ponder about your gorgeous appearance. After all, you’re standing right in from of him, your eyes reflecting the distress he caused by protecting Kamado Tanjiro and his sister from your blade. Would you understand? After all these times he taught you not to spare a single demon, the countless nights he encouraged you to behead them. It is too much to ask you for mercy now?

“You need to spare them.”

Your world is turned upside down, orbs eyeing him up and down in sheer disbelief. This doesn’t sound like the man you know at all. Is this a cruel trick, the power of the demon, maybe? As if he’s able to read your thoughts, he lets his sword fall into the discoloured snow and cups your cheek gently.

“We both know I can’t.”

He allows his eyes to rest for a moment, to think about what he’ll do next really careful. One glimpse into your determined orbs shows that you won’t give in, that you are too skilled and smart to simply follow his pleas. No, he has to find another way, he-

“Can you move?”

His heart stings in agony just by thinking what he’s about to do next.

“Make yourself move even if you can’t move.”

But he has to. If there’s the slightest chance Tanjiro’s sister can be healed, he needs to path their way.

“Take your sister and run.”

Even if it means betraying you. You, his first tsugoko. You, the woman he loves in secret.

“Tomioka-san…Sorry for the trouble, thank you very much!”

You can’t believe your ears, widen eyes watching in horror as the boy grabs the demon’s hand and sprints away.

“Giyuu…”

Your whole body feels numb, mind desperately trying to process what just happened. Your master, the water pillar…A traitor?

“This…This is against the Corps rules…”, you mumble.

He grabs your other hand as well, forces your sword into the snow right next to his.

“It was never my attention to betray you, (y/n). But I can’t allow you to kill that demon. We need to give them a chance.”

“She’s a demon!”, you shout, arms fighting against the sheer force of his grip only to fall into the cold snow violently.

You can’t hold back the tears that start to sting in your eyes anymore. No, this isn’t only about the sheer fact that he spared a demon. It’s about the fact that he betrayed you, that he still doesn’t share the reason why he saved them.

“I thought you trust me. I thought you…care more about me.”

It kills him from the inside, the way you look up at him with all that grief in your eyes getting reflected in the moonlight. Giyuu can only imagine how you must feel, how it has to look in your gorgeous orbs.

“I care about you more than anything else, (y/n). But still, I can’t allow you to kill that demon. Not her.”

“Do you know her? Is that the reason why you don’t want to see her die?”

You hate the pity tone in your voice, the struck of jealousy that fires your anger all over again. You lift yourself off the ground and storm towards him, grabbing his haori tightly.

“I gave it all up for you. I worked hard to become the demon slayer you always imagined me to be, I did everything I could to stay by your side, I…I always longed for you to love me back, Giyuu Tomioka. Only for you to break your own rules, to lie into my face!”, you shout at him, shaking him violently before you are able to stop yourself.

“I thought you’d feel the same way but apparently, I’m nothing but a fool.”

 “But I do.”

Before you’re able to shake him again, he grabs your wrists firmly and pulls you closer, the heat radiating from your body becoming unbearable to ignore.

“You’re right, you don’t deserve that I’m lying to your face. I should have told you about them a long time ago, should have been honest with you. The truth is, I fail to understand myself why that demon didn’t kill the boy yet. Master Urukodaki…He himself told me that she is under control and does not pose a threat. If there is the slightest chance she’ll turn into a human again I need to protect them both. He is special, (y/n).”

Everything is too much. His sudden outburst, the fact that there’s still a demon out there, Shinobu who told you over and over to not spare a single one of them.

“I can’t”, you cry out.

As if in trance you grab your sword again, sprint down the soft snowy ground in the direction of the boy and the demon. What are you supposed to do? Kill them, spare them, talk to them? That girl is a demon, she needs to get killed. But all the sings Giyuu said, that look on his face. You can’t ignore what he sees in them, the words of none other than master Urukodaki haunting you down. Maybe he is right. But still, she’s a demon, you’re a demon slayer, it’s your destiny to-

You land on the ground softly.

“Please don’t run away from me.”

Suddenly it feels even harder to breathe, your lungs getting pressed into the ground without any mercy. Was it another demon, an attack from behind? Your eyes dart upwards, searching for hold in the dim moonlight.

Only to get greeted by Gyiuu Tomioka’s ocean blue eyes.

“Stay.”

“I…can’t”, you press out, arms fighting against his larger frame.

He lays on top of you, his arms pinning you down onto the ground while the sheer weight of his body keeps you in place. You might be strong, a skilled demon slayer.

But he’s still Giyuu Tomioka.

“You lied to me! You played with me! Shin…Shinobu-san is here too! When she finds out what you did, that you helped a demon…Don’t you know that you might die!?”

It becomes more than urgent to you. None of this is about the fact that he helped a demon, that you fail to understand why he feels sympathy for that poor boy. It’s about the risk of losing Giyuu, his potential end as a pillar and his whole life. No other hashira will understand why he acted the way he did. And if Kagaya-sama thinks the same…You swallow away the big lump that forms in your throat, blink away the tears that threaten to fall again.

You can’t afford to lose him.

Instead of answering, Giyuu just stares down at you, gets lost in the ocean of your eyes. Oh, he always pondered about the fact how well water breathing suits you. With your movements being flowy like waves and your eyes reflecting the ocean itself, it wouldn’t be hard for him to stare at you all day. You are magnificent, so kind that the world doesn’t deserve you, well-liked by everyone else. Why is it him you’re staring at, why do you even care about the fact that he might die? It shouldn’t bother you, shouldn’t hit you the way it does.

“I love you!”, you finally cry into the night.

The unspoken words between both of you, the stinging true always present but never talked about. You love him with all your heart, with all you have.

And the thought of losing him kills you from the inside.

Gyiuu can’t believe his ears, still staring at you without even flinching. You…love him? A gorgeous girl like you who turns heads on a regular basis, so skilled that you’re even able to outstand Kyojuro’s training. Why would you love a man like him who has nothing to offer? Even if it makes his usual calm heart flutter in sheer excitement, even if he wants nothing more than closing the gap between your faces and get a taste of your lips, he stays right in place.

“Don’t worry about me. I will not escape my punishment.”

You let out your shaky breath, mind not able to process his words while your heart already shatters into a million tiny pieces.

“BUT I CARE!”

You grab his haori tightly, knuckles standing out white while you stare up at his unwavering eyes.

“I care about you! I don’t want you to die because of something like this, I don’t want to lose you!”

He should let go of you, should stand up and walk away. You don’t deserve the pain he puts you through, you never did.

But instead, his hands cup your cheeks gently. Instead, he leans down, closer and closer to your gorgeous face.

Instead, he presses his lips against yours.

You forget how to exist for a second. Is this…is this really happening? Gyiuu Tomioka laying on top of you, his firm body pressed against yours. Giyuu Tomioka, kissing you oh so gently. You feel like fainting and flying at the same time, as good as never before while a wave of stomach flutter hits you with full force.

How many times did you imagine in secret how it must feel to have him so close? All these countless nights you pondered about the feeling of his lips, how it must be to hug him. And now all of this is happening all at once.

“Now, what do we have here? Aren’t both of you supposed to kill the demon who just run away?”

He lets go faster than you’re able to react, his hand stretched out in order to help you off the ground.

“Shinobu-san”, you breathe out in sheer horror.

Your hands start trembling, glossy eyes darting towards her. How long is she here? What did she hear? Your stomach drops to the ground. Please, she didn’t hear about the stinging fact that Giyuu helped that demon, she didn’t-“

“Is it true that you wanted to spare this demon, Tomioka?”

You swallow hard, vision getting blurry. As much as you adore Shinobu with all your heart, you know as good as she does that helping a demon is strictly against the Corps rules. And even though you weren’t strong enough to stop him, from reporting his resistance.

Shinobu will.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he blankly stares at her, body positioning itself in front of her and you.

“(y/n), were you also involved into this? I thought you are a better demon slayer than that. You even have the chance to be a hashira! What a shame-“

“Stop”, Giyuu interrupts her.

“She tried to stop me multiple times.”

“Giyuu”, you mutter under your breath.

“Is that so? Well, isn’t the word of your crush enough to stop you? Aren’t you aware of what awaits you?”

You watch in horror as she storms towards him, her sword ready to hit him.

“So you’re really serious about saving a demon? So serious that you’re not only risking your life, but (y/n)’s as well?”

Their blades clash into each other over and over.

“Please stop, it’s not what you think!”, you desperately try to interrupt.

“I am not risking (y/n)’s life”, he clarifies.

“Oh, but you do? How are we supposed to know she didn’t help you? After all, everybody knows how close you are!”

You can’t escape the blush that creeps up your face immediately.

“T-that’s…n-not true!”

“And because (y/n) is important to me, I’d never put her life into danger.”

“I have a message from headquarters! Bring them back! Bring them back! Tanjiro, dressed in a checkered haori, with a scar on his forehead! Nezuko, a demon girl with a bamboo muzzle! Bring them back! Bring them back!”

Without another word, Shinobu puts her sword in her sheath and starts walking away. Oh, this is bad. Absolutely bad. Getting sent to the headquarters means only one thing…

“Don’t worry too much.”

Giyuu grabs your hand firmly, his eyes captivate you in an instant.

“I won’t allow anyone to hurt you.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @kayleegomez @ryva @baku2345 @komelrebi-san

[minus-plus-zer0]

Working at Bakugou's Agency Headcanons - Part 2

| Part 1 | ♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Ever since you broke the ice with Bakugou, he's been finding more time to talk to you at work. You're less likely to call him by his hero name now out of habit.

You feel a little bad though for the co-workers he still yells at though, so you ask him if he could be just a "smidge" nicer to them.

His first instinct is probably to say "NO FREAKING WAY!" but he's been thinking about all the things you said to him before this point and he's at least considering your suggestion, albeit begrudgingly.

That's a victory of a sort.

You're learning a lot about the inner life of a Pro Hero, given how much time you spend working around the agency.

You joked to Bakugou before about surpassing him as a Pro Hero but really, if you put your mind to it, maybe you could do it. Your experience as a secretary could only help and not hurt you. It's a lot of work though.

The idea is still put on hold for now. Especially considering what happened recently. There was a new villain on the streets and they caused a ton of trouble for the Pro Heroes. Bakugou in particular was pretty banged up...

You were worried sick over him during and after the fight. You visited him in the hospital and although you heard he was in a bad mood, he seemed more alert when you entered the room.

He couldn't stand to see you cry. He told you it wasn't your problem and that you should only focus on your work. But you insisted that as a friend you should care.

He doesn't disagree with that, so he lets you stay. He says it'll be easier to keep watch on you this way and he needs to know how the agency's doing anyways.

The agency is not nearly as worried as you are, at least not on a personal level. They're not callous, but they're not close to the man. So you're the only one who visits.

Regardless of the good or bad news, Bakugou enjoys listening to you speak. It's better than being alone in the dull hospital room. You end up talking quite a while and time passes by before you know it. Bakugou's smiling more and more as time goes by.

When Bakugou eventually returns to work, you're talking to him in private about the status of his wounds. He lets you help him with first aid and also with moving around the place. You're literally a shoulder for him to lean on when his issues are at their worst.

Eventually he heals up and you don't have as much of an excuse to talk to him at work, so you go back to your usual amount of interactions. It still nice but never enough...

Bakugou ends up reaching out to you more as a result and this time around, Bakugou is the one to invite you out for dinner! But instead of the fancy restaurant you attended last time, you suggest a more low-key, humble cafe nearby.

He agrees, even though this means he's gotta disguise himself somewhat. There's some private tables in the cafe and it's not too busy with people, but the fancy restaurant was more guarded against the usual common fans and reporters than a simple cafe would ever be.

You poke fun at his disguise and find a good table for you both. As you're making your orders you notice him staring at you from your table and it's very clear he didn't think he was going to get caught looking. You stick your tongue out at him and that leaves him seething at your teasing.

You return with the food and you give it to Bakugou before he can complain about anything. Your careful recommendation on what he should order was right on the money. He likes the food and you can tell by his expression.

You say that to his face, and he screws up his expression so now you can't tell what he's thinking or feeling. He looks deranged.

You want to take a picture to show all your co-workers, but he's got a hand on your phone before you can do anything. Damn him and his fast reflexes!

Since his face isn't screwed up anymore you still want to take a picture, but this time for yourself. You don't tell him that last part, you just ask if you can take a photo of him and his food, for posterity of course. He agrees and he initially keeps his typical grumpy face for the photo. But then a thought occurs to him and he gives you a small smile and you know you just HAVE to take the photo ASAP.

If you didn't have to go back to work, you would've forgotten that he was your boss. He's too close to you now, so many smiles and secrets you didn't think you'd get out of a man like this. But you need something more. You don't want things to stop progressing here, not when it's getting good. However, there's no good way to broach the subject.

Hours later after having a good time together at the cafe, Bakugou is walking you home, all the way to your doorstep.

When you finally reach the place, he tells you he has something to talk about.

He looks like he's a bundle of nerves. He ends up blurting what's on his mind just to get it off his damn chest, and it's just easy for him to talk to you about these kinds of things.

He admits that he doesn't always see you as his secretary, but as his close friend. He knew he had feelings for you at the start, but he thought he could manage that in private so as to not make you uncomfortable.

But he does love you, and he's thinking he's been reading the signs right and that you feel the same.

You just kiss him to confirm his thoughts and he kisses back even deeper than you ever could. He's inexperienced and rough, it's obvious to a T, but it's everything you would want. He's pulling you into his chest and making sure he's tasting every last bit!

Finally you break for air and his smirk is shaky, his body is shaky, and his voice is also shaky when he tells you "You're mine."

"No YOU'RE mine."

He quite likes that!

Though he admits he can't let you work for him anymore if you're together. He'd be letting you go as his secretary, because he would really rather have you as a girlfriend!

Sucks that you're out of a job though. But you heard that Deku is hiring...

[pricegouge]

horny knee-tattoo offerring...

ive had insomnia all this week and its super frustrating, bc you're tired but cant turn your brain off enough to sleep and its hard to physically tire yourself out at 4am yknow? maybe reader's 141 boy (any or all of em, its ur world babe) wakes up in the middle of the night and sees how frustrated and miserable their partner is, tossing and turning, doomscrolling, counting down the dwindling hours till their work alarm is due to go off, and they take it upon themself to fuck their partner to sleep. not just one round, no, orgasm after orgasm, squirting over the sheets, crying from tired frustration and then relief, till they fall asleep stuffed full around a cock. their boy(s) carefully get them all cleaned up and tucked back in the sheets dead asleep <3

i hope ur tattoo goes well! whatcha gettin 👀

Hii 💛

I went with Price cause I'm a simp

(also I'm getting Mothra)

cw: reader has a pussy which is referred to with fem terms, but no gendered pronouns for them. daddy kink (sorry). squirting. implied (non negotiated) somno. John's POV.

He's not expecting the glow of artificial light permeating the room when he opens his eyes in the dead of night, though by now he supposes he really should be.

You've been struggling to sleep for weeks now, the unhelpful sleep aids and your own frustration creating a bad feedback loop which left you tossing and turning into the early hours of morning when you would usually slink off downstairs to try your luck on the couch, leaving your side of the bed cold and empty.

It simply wouldn't do.

"Trouble sleeping, sweetheart?" His voice is rough with his own grogginess, sawing through the still of the night with enough force make you jolt, nerves shot with exhaustion.

"Yeah. Am I keeping you awake?"

He grabs after you when you begin to shift out of bed without even waiting for an answer. "Not at all. You stay right here." He pulls you closer to him, illustrating exactly what he means by tucking you in against his chest, his hand heavy where it cradles your skull. You sigh as if in contentment, but your body remains stiff and tense against him. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No," you grumble, just as much upset about it as he is. "Thanks though."

"Thoughts racing or just not tired?"

You shrug, shoulder jostling the arm he has slung over you. Your voice is watery when you respond. "Little bit of both I guess."

"Hey," John starts, immediately alert, pulling you impossibly closer. "What's wrong?"

You bury a sniffle in his chest, tension shifting rapidly to obvious frustration. "Nothing," you whine, obviously lying. "I'm just so fucking tired but it's like I'm not tired at all, you know? Like my brain's just decided we don't need it anymore even though body feels like a Furby with the battery running out, right? But there's nothing I can do; no matter what I try I'm still stuck laying here - wide the fuck awake and -!"

"Okay," John starts, easing you back onto the bed before you start rambling about more obscure nineties toys he's barely ever heard of. "Okay, let's just -." He pauses, at a loss, but then he looks down at you in the dim light of your forgotten phone and he sees your puffy face, the tear streaks, your hair a mess, tangled in sheets from all your tossing and your turning and he knows immediately how best to help you.

"I know something we can try, sweetheart."

"You do?" As if in contrast to your confused tone, your hands grip his forearms instinctively, eyes wide and hopeful as he lowered himself down over you, weight near crushing. He doesn't bother responding beyond a pleased rumble when your hands slip up over his biceps, kissing your fingertips when they curl over his shoulders. You're still so tense beneath him, but he's sleep-soft and heavy enough to smother you, thinks he can overwhelm you easy enough. Just has to ply you the right way.

The kisses your eyelids first, lips tracing the etch marks of your tears. He kisses the corner of your mouth, pulling back teasingly when he feels your lips part under his.

"John," you whine, and he can't help the huff of laughter which collects between you, humid and dense on your skin.

"Need me?"

"Yes."

He loves how eager you can get, the way you pull him down until he lays flat on top of you, the way you accept his tongue with a pleased groan. Your legs fall open beneath him and he grinds against you lazily, a tight contrast to your neediness, though he indulges you with the deep kisses he knows you crave.

When his lips trail down your neck, you thread your finger through his short cropped hair, your nails scratching against the tightness of his scalp and it eases that last little bit of lingering tension in him, makes him sink that last little bit into you. He's heavy, languid, forcing you to still yourself and meet his pace, rewarding you with a particularly dirty grind when you do.

He trails kisses down your chest, stopping to teethe lightly on your nipple as he slips down the bed. You jolt, undoing all his work, but he just chuckles, content to unwind you again and again if needed.

You're slick enough for a finger when he gets your bottoms off, but he makes you wait for that too, licks over your lips with fat, teasing stripes that have your legs falling open around him, blooming like a flower in invitation. He still doesn't give in, ignoring your clit in favor of pressing his teeth oh so gently into your fat mound and rubbing his beard into your soft inner thigh. It'll leave a rash, he knows, get you all huffy about it in the morning.

He'll kiss it better then, too.

"John, please," you whine and he smirks, pressed close enough to the crease of your thigh you can probably feel his incisors against your hip flexor.

"What was that?"

A pause. He can practically hear your breath catch in your throat.

"Need daddy to help?"

"Please," you sob, frustration bubbling up again.

"Shh," he breathes, lets his breath fan across your exposed clit when he thumbs the hood back. He should make you ask properly, but he hasn't forgotten this is about you. "I got you, sweetheart."

For all his patience before, John dives into your cunt like his last bloody meal. He's sloppy, spit and slick collecting on his chin as he licks into you, breath hot and humid, leaving him in heavy pants that have him groaning with your taste. You fingers find his hair again, pull him and he obliges happily, showing your cute little clit the love it needs as he finally sinks two fingers into you, moaning at the way you clench around him. He's efficient, a man with a purpose, and he makes you cum within minutes, your breathy whines sounding suspiciously like a low chant of 'daddy.'

You moan when he kisses you after, no finesse. Just a hot slide of slick tongues where he shares your taste with you, keeping you distracted as he lines himself up.

It's never an easy task. John's a big man, his cock nothing but proportional. It never matters how many times he has you, or how pliant he get you beneath him, the first press into you is always slow, measured in your breaths which he uses to his advantage.

His words are soothing in your ear, lips pressed flush against your temple as he tells you how good you are for him, how much he loves the feel of you stretched tight around him. You hand clutches at him blindly, distracting. He threads his fingers with your own and pins it by your head.

When his hips fall flush with yours he gives you a minute, stroking your hair and kissing away the tears that have sprung up again. "Poor pet," he murmurs, petting your cheek. "Daddy'll make it better. Promise."

You nod, perhaps a bit stupidly, and John kisses you as he begins to move again.

You're easy beneath him. Pliant, like he was looking for all along. He wrings the first orgasm out of you easily enough and knows he could probably call it a night, knows you'd sleep well enough by the satisfied look on your face.

He doesn't want 'well enough.' He wants to put you under on his cock alone, drill it into your head that he can give you anything you fucking need.

"What do you say to daddy when he fucks you that good, sweetheart?" His voice surprises him, borderline cruel.

"Th-thank you, daddy."

He hums, rolls his hips into you experimentally. "Want one more?"

He doesn't wait for an answer.

With your legs hooked over his shoulders, John shifts his weight to fuck down into you, his sheer mass keeping you spread and pinned like a butterfly beneath him. Your breath stutters, fingers across his chest, shoulders, biceps. Anywhere you can dig in, find purchase - mark him back.

He knows he's got you dead to rights when your moan turns deep, unaffected. "Fuck, daddy," you groan and John bites back a dark chuckle.

"That it, sweetheart? Right there?"

You nod tightly, cords in your neck nearly visibly with how tight you've already been drawn.

"You gonna cum for me again?"

"Yeah, daddy, please -!"

"Dirty slut, cumming already," he tuts, but he pistons into you exactly the way he knows you need, his own groan caught like gravel in his throat when your cunt starts milking him and you mewl like you're in heat.

He's not nice about it; doesn't even let you wind down completely before his thumb finds your clit, drawing a tight circle across your sensitive little nub while he rocks the head of his cock against that spongey spot deep within you that damn near makes you hiccup in pleasure each time. It's no different now, your breath stuttering out in while you tense and shake beneath him. John waits until you're arched beneath him, clenched so tight around the base of his cock he couldn't cum even if he wanted to -

And then he presses his palm down flat and hard on your mound and you cum so hard it soaks his belly, dripping down to the sheets and collecting in the creases of both your joints.

"Fuckin' hell," he growls, planting one fist on the bed by your hip to support himself as he watches you drift back to earth.

You're fucked out and dazed, already drifting off when John rolls you onto your belly to straddle your hips. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" he rumbles, lowering himself to settle snugly over your back, keep you enveloped in his safe, sturdy weight.

"Yes, daddy," you mumble into the pillow and John presses a whiskery, satisfied smile against your temple. He slips back into you with so little resistance you barely even seem to notice.

"Just needed me, didn't you honey? Get some sleep now, yeah? I'll give you some sweet dreams."