#which you might know makes it really hard to sleep

[oneforthemunny]

you mentioned rockstar eddie watching her have their babies and still being obsessed ofc, and i’m wondering how janitor eddie would be, esp if she was feeling self conscious

so here's my thoughts on this, because i love janitor!eddie from the bottom of my heart, but... he's a little ball of anxiety and sometimes it makes the situation soooo much worse. like he gets in his own head, and stays in his own head, won't tell you what's going on just starts acting weird, so you think it's you and in reality, he's just in need of prozac lmao.

since oliver was adopted, there was no "down period" ya know? if anything, i think watching you be a mom to him and be sweet to him and kind and loving, it made eddie even fucking more insatiable than before in the most love sicken devoted way.

after you gave birth to olivia, it was different. through the pregnancy, he'd already been a little nervous with you. there's a full blurb about it, where he's nervous to touch you because he doesn't want to hurt you. bless him, there's not a lot out there at the time (early 90s) about having sex and being pregnant lol. so he's just scared. better to stay hands off than hurt you. which in the blurb, doesn't last because once you tell him you want to and it's ok, he's actually feral.

but after olivia, the doctor tells the usual, no sex for this six weeks or it can hurt you. eddie, ofc, asked a million questions about every single thing (turned a thirty minute visit into an hour and a half), but specifically about what could happen, how would you know if you're healed, what did they do to verify that everything was good, was there a test- like a million questions.

six weeks turns into eight, and it's really not too bad because you're both exhausted and literally collapse into each other. but around ten weeks, the routine is becoming more normal, olivia's sleeping through the night, you both feel like you can catch your breath, but eddie's still so distant with sex? like everything else is so good, but if you try to initiate, kiss him a little deeper, make yourself into the little spoon and back your ass up on him, he stills and shuts it down.

by eleven weeks, you're frustrated. by twelve, almost three months, you're hurt. wayne kept the kids for the night, wanted to give you two some alone time and wanted to spend time with his grandbabies, and you think it's perfect. you're about to go back to work, and it seems like a good time to "break the seal" so to say.

you have a dinner at home, he cooked, wined and dined you, is so so soooo fucking sweet and lovey. you're on the couch, watching a movie, but really making out like you used to. you can feel him, feel him getting hard, and when you try to make a move, he starts like panicking. apologizing, and trying to hide it.

"fuck, i-i'm sorry. i don't, just gimme a second, an-and i'll-"

"-so do you just think i'm disgusting now?" tears in your eyes, you're beyond hurt. you'd heard so many stories about men who saw their wives give birth and didn't want to have sex anymore, deemed them gross, but you never in a million years though eddie- your sweet, kind, perfect eddie would be one of them.

eddie is on the brink of an anxiety attack, because ???? why would you think that? you're the prettiest, most beautiful girl in the world to him, and he tells you so.

"then why... why are you not wanting to have sex?" you blubber around your tears. hormones still wild even after, emotional from the hurt too.

"i know you're hard. i can see it." you point to his crotch, his semi still prominent. "so it's me."

"no, no. what? no." eddie thinks he might throw up, head spinning so fast. "it-it's not you-"

"-yes it is! why else wouldn't you want to? it's because i had a baby, and-and you think-"

"-don't." eddie's throat is tight, swallowing his heart. "it's- i- i just- i don't want to hurt you."

"hurt me? you are hurting me. you're hurting my feelings because you won't even touch me."

eddie does nearly throw up, swallows bile and it's like his world is turned up side down. he was so fucking scared, petrified, of having sex with you after and accidentally ripping something. that maybe you weren't healed, that the doctor made a mistake, and he'd fuck you and cause you to like, internally bleed and die or something insane. or that he'd just hurt you, that it would hurt and he'd hear you in pain, and he'd never forgive himself.

you'd just given him everything he ever wanted, made the ultimate sacrifice out of love, and he would not- could not hurt you over that. if he did, he'd genuinely be unable to live with himself.

after he finally just tells you that, instead of being so fucking weird, you calm him down. tell him it doesn't hurt, that you'd let him know if it did.

"just... just use your fingers first. and if it hurts, we can stop and i'll go to the emergency room. i promise. you won't hurt me." you tell him, gently cupping his cheek.

and really, it didn't take much convincing after he finally spilled what had been eating at his mind, once you soothed him. i mean, he had also been in agony. every time you'd take off your top or bend over to pick up a toy, he'd have to run to the bathroom because he was so fucking hard.

it was never unattraction, it was genuinely just his own mind and anxieties and spiraling.

[didishawn]

Can you write about Ruben having a daughter with his girlfriend, but when kid is 2 they separate. But their little girl is totally daddy’s girl so they have to be real close with each other (like going to his games, going on vacation together). Recently the rumors started coming that Ruben is in a new relationship and it put a lot of pressure on their relationship, little one not really getting what’s going on.

Always yours (Rúben Días x reader)

warnings: none, a bit angsty

Masterlist

Masterlist 2

You damm Ruben's genes for going so hard and making his daughter an exact replica of him.

Each time you look into your precious baby girl's eyes, you see your ex boyfriend in them.

Ruben and you broke up back when Isadora was just two years old. It wasn't a messy break up really, just a series of miscommunication and busy schedules that made it inevitable.

Meaning: there was still love (at least from your side) and it's torturous knowing you can't be together.

Another fact that doesn't help, is that Isadora from the moment she was born, has always been a daddy's girl.

Meaning, the three of you still act as a family while technically not being a complete one.

Games both at home and away are basically a must-you are not prepared for the tantrums Isadora will do once she can't follow daddy all around the world because of school (knowing Ruben, he might as well suggest home school so he can always bring his little girl wherever he goes). Vacations are another thing you can't escape, having to either sleep in twin beds in a same room with Ruben, or a suite in which you either lock yourself in the room or plainly disappear so father and daughter can have some alone time.

You are not sure what Ruben thinks -from the moment you two broke it off, communication has been strictly only about your daughter (a limit you established, as while you could never hate him, you can't be his friend). You wonder if he too, finds the situation way too uncomfortable, or if he doesn't really care as what you two had, is in the past.

But you are on your limit, that's why when Ruben proposes a weekend away to switch things up after City's latest bad run, you refuse.

You make up some work related excuse, but tell him to take Isadora as some time together will do them some good.

You miss Ruben's disappointed look, way too into your own mind to realise what is really going on.

You can't even look him in the eye when you take a sleeping Isadora from his arms to put her into bed, and you are just about to slam the door in his face as he silently begs you with his eyes to let him explain himself.

You had been so happy, just a couple hours ago seeing him post stories with your little girls eating croissants in Paris, and enjoying the videos of her excitedly going up the Eiffel Tower.

It was a mistake, to answer your friend's call, her asking you why you hadn't told her about Isadora's possible step-mother, and the call ended with your own mother calling you to know whether it was true.

Completely lost, you entered one of those wag's gossip pages to be met up with an horrendous headline:

MAN CITY STAR, RUBEN DIAS, CAUGHT IN PARIS ALONGSIDE HIS DAUGHTER AND NEW FLAME, NEW FAMILY MEMBER ALERT?!

You didn't even know what to say nor think. Ruben had never mentioned seeing anyone, not given signs of it. Much less, has he said anything about introducing anyone to Isadora.

You didn't even have to call him or text him, before Ruben told you they were flying back to Manchester that very same evening.

You only responded with a thumbs up and went on to stalk this "new flame" of his.

A model, of course. Definitely his type, she had a nice smile too.

You can already imagine future vacations: them two in a room and you and Isa sharing in the one next to them. Having to explain to her that Ruben and whatever her name is need alone time and having to handle a fuzzy toddler wanting to be with her dad.

Great, just great.

There goes your heart, any thought you might have had in your child free, drunken nights about you and Ruben ever getting back together now that you are more mature, impossible now.

Also, there goes your trust in your baby daddy, because what the fuck is that about bringing strangers around your daughter without telling you???

Fuck him and his puppy eyes as he looks at you while you quietly come out from Isa's room, crossed arms and glaring his way, waiting for him to explain.

"I swear to God, there is nothing between me and her" he finally says, and you can only grunt.

"I don't give a fuck if you are not with her Ruben. I care about you sneakily bringing some girl around our daughter without telling me in advance. Worse so, having to find out from someone other than you"

"It's not like it was on purpose, I swear! It was pure coincidence y/n, you have to believe me"

He looks sincere, but there is still something fishy going on in your opinion.

"Right, you on pure coincidence crossed paths with some of your situationships on Paris and-"

"She is no one, y/n-"

"Let me finish, because not only did you do that. You were sending me pictures of Isa while carefully making sure I could see her, you were hiding her from me Ruben." you sigh again, already dreading how this is going down. "Look, Ruben, I don't care if you are seeing other girls, I am glad that this is a sign we have both moved on."

You lie, and hope he can tell so. "I am not seeing anyone, I promise."

"...We both know how you are, Ruben, you can't seriously expect me to believe that."

When you met Ruben, he wasn't someone to settle down, it was a miracle he once did with you, but you know it's not in his nature.

"Look, I just ask of you to not go around introducing just about anyone to Isa, I don't want her to ask questions. This whole thing is already hard on her"

You don't remember how the rest of the conversation with Ruben went down, just him giving out excuses that you don't believe.

Of course he is seeing other girls, you are sure of it.

You haven't seen much of him since, asking your best friend to please help you handle pick ups with him with another work related excuse.

Communication is now the bare minimum, every time he tries to speak with you about the whole mess, you just straight on ghost him.

Another child free night, means a nice bottle of wine to drown your sorrows and some romantic com playing in the background to try and convince yourself love might actually exist.

It's almost midnight when someone loudly knocks on your door. You quietly take a sneaky look outside, and open the door confusedly when you see him.

"Where is Isadora? Is she alright?" you worriedly ask and he nods his head.

"Yes, yes, all is alright, she is with my brother, don't worry about it."

There is silence for a moment as you stare at him as he fidgets in his place.

"Then, what are you doing here?" you ask, arms crossed and back to your cold persona now that you now all is ok.

"...You were ignoring me, and I need to speak with you"

You sigh, tiredly. "I was not ignoring you Ruben, it's just that there is no reason for is to keep discussing this topic"

You know that's a lie, everyone knows something bad is going on, it's even affecting Isa, as while she might already be used to mom and dad not living together, she has only really known a life of family dinners, weekly meet ups and movie nights. All gone now.

"That's bullshit and you know it"

He stares at you for a moment, in his eyes the same look he had when you two found out you were pregnant: scared, terrified about what the future holds for you.

You let him in, even offer him a glass of wine which he ignores. You can't really remember the last time it was only him and you in a room.

"...I would never take anyone other than you or Isa to Paris, I wish you accepted that"

Back when you had just started Ruben, he had asked you what was your dream trip, and it might be cliché, but to you it had always been Paris: the city of love.

A week later you had been enjoying a fresh croissant as you walked hand in hand with him near the Louvre.

The last trip you ever made as a couple, was just after finding out Isa's gender, you two in a boat ride along the Sena as you wondered what the future help in hand for your little family.

And it hit you hard, really, rhat he could just go and be with another girl in the city, in the meantime, the mere thought of the city had your heart acting for him.

"But it seems you did, Ruben"

"Y/n, please. You have to believe me. That girl and I just have some friends in common and I couldn't just tell her to get away from me, doesn't matter how much I wish I could"

"That still doesn't explain why would you hide her from me'

"I didn't hide her! She was literally there for about,five minutes, and that was enough for those stupid wag pages to make up stupid stories!"

"...Ok"

"...Ok? Just like that?"

"You prefer me not believing You?'

"Just...not used to you not fighting me"

"We can fight if you want to"

"I would prefer not to, afterall, it was a stupid fight that hot us here"

It's quiet for a second, the two of you watching the movie playing in the background but not truly paying any attention to it.

"Are you seeing someone?"

The question has you choking on your wine and stare at him, wide eyed.

"I mean...the other day you said that thing about moving on and..."

"Ruben, you caught me alone at home drinking a Friday night with the lames rom com playing on the background. You really think I am hiding someone from you?"

"...Good point, I guess" he clears his throat, then waits a second. "You might not believe me, but I am really not seeing anyone"

"Is the Ruben Días having trouble getting laid?"

"The only girl I want to get laid with- said no to a trip to Paris I had planned to ask her whether she would ever take me back"

"...That's not funny, Ruben"

"Only jokes are supposed to be funny, darling, and this is not a joke"

[deadhands69]

A New End: Reassurance

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Spoilers: Shie Hassaikai Raid (some divergence from canon) This series contains: gn/afab reader, angst, canon typical violence, cussing, eventual smut

previous - this is part 4

[series masterlist]

|\/\/\| reassurance |/\/\/|

Hours.

It's been hours since you sat in this dingy open dining/living room which is now serving as a meeting space and there's no end in sight. The peeling finish on the table chips off easily under your fingernails as you try to maintain any ability to pay attention. It’s hard when you’re all so tired. You especially.

Between grief, bad sleeping conditions, and constant overwhelming dreams you haven’t had much rest lately. The wind blowing through the cracks between the boarded up window pane whistled into your ear all night. When you finally did fall asleep, your dreams were nauseatingly realistic. A little girl with big red eyes and long grey hair has haunted your dreams. Much like the plague doctor from before, but a lot cuter and less malevolent. She looks remarkably familiar too. You made a mental note to ask Shigaraki if he has a little sister, but there hasn’t been a right time to ask yet. 

“Who else has something?” Shigaraki asks but no one answers. You've all given your ideas on how to handle the Shie Hassaikai situation but it's no use: none of your plans are perfect. They can't be, you have almost no information to go on without someone contacting them for more. Even then, they might be lying. 

You glance back at Shigaraki’s face. The exhaustion has settled itself deeply into all of his features. He looks frustrated too, but there's something else under it. In the months you've spent with the league, you've never seen him quite like this. His posture is always bad, but today he's practically melting into the chair. Eyes downcast, barely looking up for anything. It's like a tiny streak of hopelessness cracked through him when his sensei was defeated and only grew with the following events. 

Magne’s death. Compresses arm. The fact that this week you've switched from sleeping in a cold damp warehouse to an abandoned house on the border of the industrial area, which is also cold and damp all the time. Shigaraki isn't oblivious to the toll this puts on you all, both physically and mentally.

He carries the guilt of all of it while still needing to make the final call on bigger decisions. 

Some days it hits harder than others, today happens to be one of those days. This didn't need to be a meeting-worthy topic, but he made it that way in what you can only assume is stress about making the wrong choice again.

Through it all, he still has the same weird charm you've gotten to know by now. You just wish you could do something to help. 

His face falls at the lack of response. One of his hands scratches the side of his face while the other fidgets in his lap. Everything in you wants to touch him, hold him, tell him it's okay but when your hand reaches towards his wrist under the table you stop short. Fingers shaking, you will yourself to make contact. Give him a reassuring squeeze. Anything, really. 

His skin is so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of him but you can't bring yourself to make the move. Your quirk doesn't even activate; even future vision knows you don't have it in you. 

“Let's just take a break and come back to it,” he grumbles. There's a collective groan, you've taken a few breaks today and everyone wants to just be done with it already. There can't possibly be any more reasonable ideas than what you've already gone over. None that any of you would suggest, at least.

The others stand to leave and Shigaraki shuffles out to the hallway behind them. You stand slowly, pulling your hand from where it's been frozen under the table. 

‘I-” he mumbles under his breath, gesturing you into the hall. “I need your help.”

Quietly, he explains his plan to you. It’s basically the same plan everyone else had but with him actually going to their headquarters which felt like too big of an ask for anyone but him to bring it up. 

Even if he’s only coming to you in desperation after countless mistakes that could have prevented if he listened earlier, some part of you is giddy that he's finally directly including you in the planning process. You try your best to suppress the feeling so you can pay attention but it's difficult. In the end, your quirk kicks in. Visions of him coming home complaining surround you. He looks so grouchy that it's almost funny. You stifle a laugh to answer him.

“Yeah, that should be okay. We don't know what they have planned so we can't make any promises yet, but you'll at least be safe to meet with him. We can't make any decisions until then.” You leave out the part where he comes back unhappy, you'd rather not live through it twice. 

Shigaraki nods slightly in acknowledgement then turns away without saying a word, which you're used to by now. 

“Hey, Mimic? It's Shigaraki,” he projects louder into the phone. You hear his voice trail off as he walks down the hall, “we're willing to side with you depending on the conditions…”

A week passes and he's gone to meet them at their headquarters. The others are on edge, but you feel fine about it. So far, he hasn't strayed from whatever he was going to do since your last premonition so you know he'll return safely. 

At least, you’re pretty sure.

Out of everyone in the group, your visions of Shigaraki have become a pretty consistent occurrence. Even your quirk couldn’t have called your less than sociable boss being the person you become closest with, but you can’t help it. Especially not after he basically told you he wishes he could have a different life with you. Although, you’re still not sure if you’re interpreting that correctly - he could just mean it in a platonic sense. In any case, one sentence seems to have given the part of your brain that likes to stare at him when he’s not looking and gets butterflies when he so much as acknowledges you enough validation to keep it up. 

The heater kicks in for the first time today, you curl up near the vent with Toga to make the most of it before any warmth escapes through the broken windows. At least this hideout has electricity, even if you do have to conserve it to not draw attention.

The two of you joke about the place, talking about the dated furniture and curtains. Coming up with ideas to make it more ridiculous or sometimes just habitable, depending on the day. Once you even followed through and tried to move some of the construction debris from the room, but when the looming threat of tetanus became too realistic, you stopped. In any case, talking about it is a fun escape from the life you’re living.

Shigaraki’s footsteps pound up the stairs until he’s at the door. You hear him struggle to get the jammed handle to work for a moment before jumping up and helping so he doesn’t decay it.

As expected, he's in a mood. 

“Why didn't you warn me about that?” he groans, passing you at the door and moving into the kitchen. It's a small space so it only takes you a few steps to follow him. 

“It doesn't work that way,” you say, while he fills a cracked glass with water. “How would I have known what happens if you don't tell me things? I just saw that you made it home in one piece.” Sure you could have told him more, but you didn't know what the future would turn to if he knew and getting him back safely seems like the best scenario you have.

“So, what happened?” you pry a bit further. 

“I don't want to talk about it now,” he mutters, refilling the water glass.

“That's fine. I won't make you. But, if you want to know more next time, you'll have to communicate better than that.”

He makes a weird face and leaves, but the information seems to sink in. Over the next week, he’s much more open with you. Not only about league plans, like when he asked you to okay sending Toga and Twice to the Yakuza for a bit, but random life occurrences as well. It’s like he isn’t sure where the line between relevant and not is so he’s overcompensating. You don’t mind though, it gives you an excuse to talk to him more often.

Shigaraki stands at the counter, staring at the coffee maker. Every few minutes, he gives it a bump as if that will speed the process somehow. It’s an otherwise quiet morning, with Toga and Twice being away, Dabi off recruiting somewhere, and Kurogiri on a mission of his own.

“Is it supposed to take this long?” he asks. Because you knew where the filter, water, and coffee grounds go he now assumes you are the resident expert in the subject.

“Yeah, that’s how long it always takes.”

“Oh,” he replies shortly before taking a seat in one of the rickety chairs next to you.

“I think I’m going to shower today,” he says definitively. It takes a surprising amount of self-restraint to not ask if he needs help with that. You know you could play it off as a joke when he says no but knowing him, he’d take it as an insult and assume you don’t think he can bathe on his own.

“...is that okay?” he asks, making you realize he’s doing the oversharing-to-see-if- it-triggers-your-quirk thing again. 

“Yeah,” you nearly laugh, “it should be fine. No one will have any issues with you showering.” For a moment, you let your mind slip back to the thought of it. Being in a cramped space with him, the way the water would trickle down his neck to places you’ve never seen. The water pressure here is shit and the hot water heater only provides a good ten minutes of warmth if you’re lucky, but the thought still amuses you.

He eyes you suspiciously, searching for whatever he knows you aren’t saying. You’ve never been so glad his quirk isn't mind reading.

Later that day, Toga texts to let you know that the heroes have arrived on some sort of mission at the Shie Hassaiki headquarters. There are a lot of them, she says, but that should work out in their favor. Their current plans are to ride the wave of chaos and see what they can make it out with. No warning signals go off for you so you text her to go for it and you’ll keep in touch. 

Of course, this is the moment Shigaraki chose to take a shower so you yell the gist of it through the door at him. He gets frustrated at the muffled sounds, poking his still sudsy (and very annoyed) head out the door and having you give him the rest of the details before disappearing again. The sound of the shower resumes and you head back to your makeshift bedroom space.

Settling onto your sleeping mat, you sit back to enjoy the faint display of premonitions from the constant changes in direction and plans Toga and Twice are going through. It’s almost like watching a movie. Then you see her, but only for a flash. The little girl from your dream walking up the stairs and into the hideout.

Wait, go back! Your hands smash into the keyboard as fast as you can type.

The girl was there. Wherever you were about to go. 

There’s no response, but you know they saw your message because soon enough she’s back in your vision again, this time more opaque. 

It’s radio silence on their end for a while, without any change in the future. Waiting like this has always been stressful but now, at least people listen to you. You just have to trust that they’ll keep on the same track and make it out. A little while later, the texts come flooding in.

We have the little girl and Chisaki is in custody

They’re preparing him to be moved soon

Success!

It was a disaster!

Twice clearly got ahold of Toga’s phone, but you're glad for the update. You jump up to relay the message to the others who are waiting for the next steps.

Upon entering the living room, you find Shigaraki making Compress, Spinner, and Dabi compete in a Mariocart Tournament to see who’s driving later. A few days ago, they’d stolen the keys to a truck from one of the nearby warehouses for the occasion. You’re not sure how Mariocart makes someone qualified to drive but that doesn’t seem to matter to the rest of them. Given that Dabi seems more interested in the ceiling tiles and Compress has managed to get Princess Peach stuck in every corner in the course, it's pretty easy to guess who is going to win. 

You offer to drive, having an actual driver’s license, but Shigaraki declines, stating that your quirk won't fit this mission if anything goes wrong. Of course you fight him on that, knowing that your quirk is a better fit for being on the front lines than he gives you credit for but he won't budge.

So, you stay. 

“Don't pout,” he growls, laying with his feet over the armrest of a recliner across the room from you. “Your quirk is too important for me to put you in unnecessary danger. We can handle it.”

“What, and ours aren't?” Dabi glares at him from the floor in front of the couch. He's still not paying attention to the game. 

“It's different. Your quirk is important for lighting cops on fire.”

Dabi's mouth has been cracked from the moment he dropped the question, ready to fire off an insult. He seems sufficiently happy with the response though so he drops it. As expected, Spinner pulls Waluigi across the finish line and wins by a long shot. 

“Time to go,” says Shigaraki, ushering everyone out of the room, “Toga will call with an update and we can intercept Chisaki there.” Spinner looks on the fence about the whole idea but Dabi and Compress are excited, both immediately jumping into the truck. 

Shigaraki hangs back for a moment, looking questioningly in your direction. The way his eyes meet yours send flutters through your body. He can sense there’s something he’s supposed to do here, some missing interaction with you before he leaves.

“It’ll be fine,” you reassure him, “this will work.” Without noticing, your hands found their way around his wrists. He glances down at the touch, but doesn’t move to pull away. You feel his pulse quicken against the pads of your fingers, as he looks up back up at your face. 

“Come on, we’ve gotta go!” yells Spinner from the driver’s seat.

“I-” he hesitates, “I’ll keep you updated.” He slips out of your grasp, climbing up to the roof of the truck as Spinner lurches down the street and out of sight.

The group texts you with updates here and there, mostly Shigaraki. 

getting close

we see the truck

going in

And, finally, it’s done.

You breathe a massive sigh of relief when they’ve picked up Twice, Toga, and the little girl who you now know as Eri and are on their way back. Everything went to plan, for the most part, without anyone making any catastrophic changes. Dropping onto the outdated couch, you let yourself sink into the cushions. Closing your eyes to rest. 

Within the hour, everyone is piling in through the front door and celebrating. You’re not sure where the food and drinks came from but you’re almost certain Compress had something to do with it. You join them, happy to eat real food and feed off the excitement of the room. Eri is settled into the same bedroom space as Toga, she seems relieved to be here which makes you a little sad. Twice made her a bed and other basic necessities but it’s still a boarded up, musty old house with a bunch of strangers. Compress and Dabi are taking shots together and laughing about something that happened earlier. You talked to Spinner for a while before Eri came in, now he’s teaching her to play Animal Crossing on his switch. It's cute. Shigaraki is nowhere to be seen, you hope he isn’t avoiding you after earlier. 

As if you’d summoned him with your thoughts alone, he texts you.

meet me at the building two doors down 

you know the one

Curiously, you grab your jacket and slip out the door. No one notices, they’re all too busy cheering on Eri as she catches her first fish. 

The late-September air hits your face, feeling almost refreshing. It’s been over a week since you’ve had a chance to explore the surrounding buildings, most of your free time has been eaten up by league planning. It’ll be nice to get out for a bit, even if your heart is nearly pounding out of your chest at the thought of whatever you’re walking into. You really hope this is a fun lets-get-out-of-the-house type evening and not a don’t-ever-touch-me-again conversation but it’s been a long day already and your quirk is down to a mere flicker. 

Passing through the door and down a corridor you found last week, you see Shigaraki’s dusty blue hair glow in the moonlight. He’s standing near a wall in what used to be the main room of the old warehouse, surrounded by broken concrete and bent rebar from the collapsed roof. With only the full moon to illuminate the space, you tiptoe through the path the two of you previously forged until you’re standing right in front of him. The light hits his features softly. For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t look upset.

“I thought this would be a better celebration,” he says, fingernails digging into his neck. Stepping forward, you pull his hand away. Your grip on his wrist lingers. Even in the dim lighting, you can see his cheeks turning pink. His eyes meet yours before his gaze flicks down to your mouth and back up.  

A dizzying amount of visions surround you, but you pay them no mind as your lips crash into his. To your surprise, he kisses you back with even more passion. Pressing his rough lips into yours like he’s never wanted anything more in his life. You drop his wrist, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and sliding your fingers into his hair. He sighs into your touch. His hands wrap around you, a few fingers carefully peeled back. Turning slightly, he presses you back into the wall, hands sliding to the concrete behind you as you feel the weight of him against your chest. Giving his hair a gentle tug, your tongue meets his as he gasps. He returns the movement, his soft tongue a fun contrast from his chapped lips.

With every breath, the smell of him fills your lungs. He smells faintly of the cheap soap you’ve all been sharing at the hideout and a subtle scent between autumn leaves and rain that’s reminiscent of his quirk. Everything about him surrounds you and nothing else matters. 

Time stands still while the two of you spend the rest of the evening intertwined in the wreckage.

a new end masterlist - bnha masterlist

Taglist: @tomuratoucher @aryuunachigiri @shigarakislaughter @foxyboy0

[astroyongie]

spamming senpai until i see an a-z nsfw for geto

(doing it so I don't get canceled by you)

A To Z Analysis: NSFW

Geto

A = Aftercare

Gojo is actual good with aftercare even if it doesn't seem like it. he is the type to be practical and have everything prepared beforehand. He is also the type to talk with his partner and make sure they enjoyed it

B = Body part 

On himself he likes his feet. don't ask why, he just believes he has very good feet

on his partner he loves their hair, their skin so he can touch and pamper. loves the curve of their back which makes him quite touchy as well

C = Cum 

He isn't very messy with cum but he squirts out a lot. So it's quite liquid compared to some who can have a more thick consistency

D = Dirty secret 

He might have a thing or want to see his partner being fucked by someone else while he simply watches. Extra points if he knows the other person so it can add to his angst

E = Experience

Geto haș very little experience. he has enough to know how to deal with a partner, but he still has much to learn.

F = Favorite position 

Your legs/feet over his shoulder is a position he loves, but also holding you from the side for more slow and lazy smash. Missionaries when he is feeling more on the romantic side

G = Goofy

Geto isn't really goofy during the intimacy, that because there's a lot going on inside his head. He is mostly focused on his pleasure and his partners

H = Hair

He can be a little messy. he is groomed but he doesn't like to be bare or have too much little hair. Same for his partner, although he doesn't care how they present themselves, he prefers when they have hair so it feels more mature to him

I = Intimacy 

Yes, Geto needs a lot of intimacy during smash, he needs the romanic aspects and he needs to be in love with the person to be able to have sex

J = Jack off 

He can be paradoxical. there will be weeks where he is doing it every night to sleep tight, and there's weeks where he will forget to do it. it also depends if he has a partner or not

K = Kink 

Geto's kinks are vast and usually they bring something primal on him. It's anything that gets tangled in between kinky, taboo, hurt yet still with passion and love. From sado-maso play, to blood and prey play to recreating traumas to have possession of the moment

L = Location

Bedroom exclusively. he doesn't mind to bring it to the office, to the working space or even the couch. but he prefers the couch.

M = Motivation 

Geto îs particularly hard to get in the mood. He gets turned on by random things and something it just clicks on him. but some kisses and teasing can get him going when done in the right moment

N = No 

He would say no to anything including food, poop, sodomization and anything that would put him and his partner in an uncomfortable environment

O = Oral

He is a huge fan of oral. Although he prefers to receive and to geto, a blowjob can count like one session. He also doesn't mind to go down on his partner but he might like the practice with his mouth

P = Pace 

He is a slow and sensual pacer, he doesn't like to get too rough with his thrusts, he believes it doesnt make him feel his partner fluster around him

Q = Quickie 

He isn't a fan of quickies and if he can avoid them he would. although if you really are in a mood, he will use his fingers on you to get you satisfied

R = Risk 

Geto will have the game to experiment and he will take risks after a conversation with his partner to make sure no boundaries are crossed. he wouldn't take risks randomly

S = Stamina

He has a good stamina actually. He might finish a little too quickly but he has the ability to take a few breaks to make it last a little more in between

T = Toys 

it's an half and half. it would depend on what type of toys you want to bring on the bedroom and what the utility of it. he is more okay to use them on himself tho

U = Unfair 

He can be a huge tease if he is in the mood of a more dom play. but is teasing can be painful, to the point where he will deny any type of release

V = Volume 

He is rather quiet during smash, based on the chart, he is the type to make low grunts and growls. He rarely moans out loud, as he find sounds from him to be embarrassing

W = Wild card

He would allow you to carve your name on his body permanently during a smash session and he would exhibit it proudly

X = X-ray 

Geto is large and girthy. it's curved upwards and it’s somewhere in between rough and clean looking.

Y = Yearning 

His sex drive is mid, it really depends on his mood

Z = Zzz

After sex he doesn't want to sleep. he wants to pillow talk, to hug, to cuddle. sleep with you in his arms afterwards

[bluemotifofsleep]

Shield My Heart

knight! iwaizumi x princess! reader

-it was his duty to love her, and even if it wasn’t, he’d do it anyway. iwaizumi’s devotion came as easy as breathing.

read part one first :)

part two: a locked cage, and a sinking ship.

~

it’s hard to be a princess, and not be grateful.

it’s hard, but you do it anyway.

it’s not like you aren’t grateful for your life, you know you are much more privileged than most. you have a warm bed with as many pillows and blankets your heart could disire. you have warm meals waiting for you every morning when the sun rises, and every evening when the sun sets. people wait on you hand and foot, people bow to you, people sugar their words and widen their smiles and praise you fraudulently, just to be on your good side.

you have a castle at your fingertips, you have a whole kingdom. you understand that you are privileged, and you’re grateful for it, really.

but sometimes, you wish you were born someone else.

and you know, if you asked any girl in the kingdom, they would switch places with you in a heartbeat. which is maybe why you always have this festering, gnawing guilt that never seems to go away. it itches at the inside of your brain like a sickness and infects your mind until all of your thoughts are tainted with it.

you know what people think being a princess is like. you’ve heard the whispers biting at your heels, the distain and jealousy that follows you around like a second skin. people cant help but resent you, when you appear to have everything they’ve ever wanted.

in reality, being a princess is not what it seems.

being a princess is having eyes on you at all times. expectations that grow so much bigger than you, sometimes you feel they will swallow you whole. it’s having the weight of a crown bear on your neck without ever putting it on. being a princess is devoting your life to appearances, to other people’s opinions. being a princess is being something that everyone thinks you are.

your duty, is being anyone but yourself.

and you know, that it’s selfish.

to have dreams outside of the castle is traitorous to your kingdom, it’s treasonous to imagine yourself as anything but a good, well behaved, charming princess. a good daughter to the King, a beacon of hope for the less-fortunate, a spokesperson of the people.

but sometimes selfishness claws its way into your mind and won’t let go. it finds its way into every thought until all you can think of is “what if”. what if you weren’t a princess? what would your life be like, what would your days be packed with instead of trying on pretty dresses that you really could care less about, learning proper table manners, and swallowing your own tongue until it feels like you might choke on it.

sometimes, you wonder if your unhappiness is coming from inside you like rot. sometimes you dread that it’s not your life that’s the problem, but it’s you.

maybe you’re a bad seed. maybe no matter where you were planted, you would shrivel and rot just the same.

if you had a different life, would you still be selfish, too?

you wish you could grow roots and stable yourself, reach them outside the castle walls and finally breath. finally be free of this glorious title, that you resent, and you never asked for.

~

iwaizumi hajime hasn’t been sleeping well.

it’s a fact that has been pointed out by many, not that it needed to be. of course, oikawa just can’t keep his damn mouth shut sometimes, so iwaizumi must suffer anyways.

“you know, a little beauty sleep never hurts! your eye bags are making me feel tired.”

“your hair looks especially spiky today. long night?”

whatever that means.

unlike his polished brunette counterpart, fluffing his well-kept hair every morning and whispering devotedly of smooth skin and the absence of frown lines, iwaizumi doesn’t care much for how he looks. he’s never really put much thought into his appearance, because it doesn’t matter. it’s not important to his job. and therefore, not important to him.

no, his “eye bags that are dark enough to scare unsuspecting women away” and “spiky hair that resembles a morningstar more than a hairstyle” are only a problem to oikawa, not iwaizumi.

it’s what’s been keeping him awake, that is the real problem. every time iwaizumi has managed to fall asleep lately, his dreams are all the same.

he’s on a ship. a large, old ship that creeks under the weight of the massive waves crashing against its ribs. at first glance, there appears to be no one around. no one in the crows nest, no one at the helm steering. he is lost at sea, a steel knight glimmering like a star amongst the entire solar system, with no one but himself to keep him afloat.

there’s a storm on the horizon. a crackling, monstrous thing with clouds that look like jaws ready to swallow him whole, and the boat is headed with utmost certainty straight into its mouth. he has a distinct urge to run, a bubble of panic in his chest subdued by a wave of insanity.

you can’t run from a sinking ship.

when it happens, it happens the same every time. the boat lurches, tips on the edge of oblivion slowly as if taunting him, making sure he has time to process what he can’t change. then, with a crash and the unforgiving grip of the icy cold water, he sinks.

iwaizumi has never swam before.

there is no method to his panic, he flails and kicks and tries to reach the surface he can’t see, but he fails.

he’s drowning.

except, there’s a beacon of light, a saving grace to his drowning. there’s a hand. a soft, delicate hand that he somehow feels he is familiar with, but he can’t place it. he reaches out and grabs the hand, and it is shockingly warm against the biting cold of the sea, and then he sees you.

it’s your hand that he holds to keep himself from sinking further. you are his beacon of light, on this rocking ship he sails on. you are his saviour, the only thing keeping him from sinking into his own mind and never coming out.

you are both sinking.

as much as he wills it, his hand won’t let go of yours. he drags the both of you, down, down, down, into somewhere he doesn’t know there is an end to. his hand feels like stone against yours, it feels as if he’s been holding you for weeks without letting go, the muscles tensed and unwilling to release.

you both sink, and he screams soundlessly with bubbles pouring out of his mouth, and you smile at him sadly.

if he could, he’d cut off his own hand to free you.

just as the dream starts getting darker, as his suffocating panic makes it seem like he’s actually drowning, waking himself up, he hears you.

you whisper his name to him and it mysteriously travels through the thick water to his ears, maybe straight into his heart.

“hajime,”

your face is the picture of elegance, even at a time like this, and it’s so like you it hurts him. even when you’re drowning, you are the perfect princess.

“you need to let me go.”

~

he wakes with a gasp, as he has for the fourth time this week.

his room is bathed in moonlight, showering his bed and himself in a deep blue that sickeningly reminds him of his dream. waves clawing at his skin, your soft, tender hand trapped in his, screaming and bubbles and your words in his head, you need to let me go, you need to let me go, you need to let me go-

he breathes in a deep breath, holds it for five seconds, and then slowly lets it out through his nose.

his clammy skin sticks to his sheets, and he’s panting from the amount of adrenaline one gets from drowning, his body trying to fight something that’s not real.

it’s not real. even when he reminds himself, he feels this enormous guilt destroying him from the inside out.

he couldn’t let you go.

even in his hypothetical dream world, where neither of you even exist, he still couldn’t let you go.

~

you’ve had a shitty day.

it was your least favourite schedule of the week. you started with table etiquette training in the dining room, going over things you’ve heard thousands of times before. so many times, you imagine a blade on the inside of your skull drawing the words into your skin. “this knife here and this spoon here”, “fold your napkin as so”, “don’t let your silverware scrape against the plate dear that’s awful-“

you’re currently trying not to let your head fall with three books balanced on you, an “etiquette officer” as you’d so fondly named them (only in the privacy of your own mind, of course) to your right telling you all the things you’re doing wrong.

because that’s what being a princess is all about; all the things you’re doing wrong.

the only thing getting you through this for the millionth time is that in today’s particular schedule, you have some free time to yourself at the end of your training. a rare occurrence that whenever it happens, you seize the opportunity with both hands and don’t let go.

you know exactly what you’re going to do with you’re free time.

“alright, that’s all for today, princess.” the title sounds mocking when pared with the indifferent and slightly peeved sounding voice of your instructor. somehow she always finds a way to make it seem like you’ve failed, and you wonder how she manages it so spectacularly.

you (with elegance and poise, of course) jump out of your seat and try your best to not look like you’re running for the exit of the dining room, but you probably fail at that, too.

there’s one thing that’s been keeping you going all day. a certain gruff, brunette, knight-shaped thing.

when you make it down through large glass doors and into the courtyard, you instantly spot him sparring with another knight, oikawa tooru, your eyes magnetized to the metal of his armour.

“princess!” it’s not your brunette knight that calls to you, but rather a lanky boy with soft pink hair.

hanamaki takahiro, with matsukawa issei bringing up the rear.

you can’t say you’re extremely familiar with most of the knights on the kings guard, the exception being iwaizumi of course and the few others who were assigned your personal guards. your lives were too different to cross paths enough for familiarity, your days filled with things so different from each other they probably aren’t even comparable at all.

of course, you always be sure to learn their names, treating them with the same respect you would any other resident of the castle. you wouldn’t let yourself be like those other snooty royals, thinking themselves above chatter with common folk who don’t know the difference between a salad fork and a regular one.

in fact, you might have more respect for them because they don’t, you envy them a bit for it.

“all done with princess duties for today?” it’s matsukawa’s lazy drawl that reaches you now, his large frame looming over you and blocking part of the sun from reaching you, and yet, you don’t feel intimidated.

you feel at ease with the knights most out of everyone in the castle. for some reason, you feel like they expect the least from you. and maybe it should offend you, but all it does is lift an imaginary weight from your shoulders. with them, you can almost pretend you aren’t who you are.

“yes, all done with princess duties. ive come to collect iwaizumi from his knight duties.”

“good, he looks like he’s on his last legs fighting off oikawa over there.” hanamaki says, and you suddenly feel worry spike your stomach.

“has something happened?” you can’t help the desperate tone of your voice, and try to peer around hanamakis shoulder to see if you can notice any injuries on your knight.

“nah, oikawa said something about him not sleeping well though. figured he can use a break before he runs himself into the ground.” and all at one you feel relieved, and guilty for not noticing he was having problems sooner.

the problem with iwaizumi is he’s just so damn stoic all the time. the true image of a perfect knight, an unshakable force. it’s hard to tell when he’s suffering, because he never shows it outwardly. he keeps a solid wall of sureness on for everyone else’s benefit and doesn’t let it crumble for his own.

sometimes you wish you could take a couple of bricks down though, and peek through.

suddenly, the object of your thoughts is walking up behind the two knights you’re speaking to, with oikawa at his side. instantly you see what hanamaki was talking about.

he’s panting heavily from his training, clearly physically spent, but there’s something else you notice. there’s a deep exhaustion in the set of his face, his eyebrows tented over his eyes that have dark circles underneath. he looks troubled. on anyone else it might look like worry, but the way he masks his face into almost neutrality, you can’t be sure.

“you two aren’t bothering her, are you?”

he’s now flanking your side, and you realize that he’s not really speaking to hanamaki or matsukawa, he’s speaking to you, a questioning and probing look on his face.

“you have so little faith in us, it hurts.” matsukawa fakes a pained expression, his voice sounding unbothered despite his words.

“we were just telling her to take your tired ass out of here before oikawa beats you and we all have to listen to him brag for the next three weeks.” oikawa squawks behind hanamaki at his words, and you hear something like “sore looser” and “i would never”.

the display of familiarity makes you smile. at least here, the infectious greed of the castle doesn’t reach. there is no need for fake smiles and even faker words between comrades fighting for the same purpose. there’s no hierarchy among the knights, just simple companionship that ties them together like brothers.

you envy them immensely.

“i beat him, so you don’t have to worry about it.” and you hear more grumbles from oikawa.

iwaizumi suddenly turns fully to you, blocking your view of the other knights with his stupidly broad shoulders.

“where to, princess?” and he smiles at you, but not the kind of smile you see frequently in the castle. instead of the glint of unnaturally white teeth and squinted, condescending eyes, his smile is something that brightens his whole face. it’s something easy, something genuine and happy and it makes you feel like you’ve just put on your favourite sweater, his infectious warmth spreading over you like melted honey.

iwaizumi has always had that affect on you. he’s just so secure in himself, so sure of his protection over you that you can’t help but be calmed by his presence. it’s a welcome security that you don’t get much of these days, something that eases over your worries like soothing water on a roaring flame. something that you indulge in greedily, even though you know you shouldn’t.

“do you even have to ask?”

~

you had few places on the castle grounds that you truly felt at peace in, places where you didn’t feel the lingering gaze of spectators on you peeling back your skin and poking around at your insides. most of the castle felt like a forest to you, with predators stalking through the trees where you couldn’t see them. people who expected greatness from you at all times, so you could never let your guard down.

located behind the castle, is a quaint stone building with stalls staggered along the side of it. a large, green paddock juts out from the stalls, where the horses are let out occasionally to graze; the stables. one place where you could truly feel at ease in.

the stable hands hardly raise a brow at your and iwaizumi’s presence. ever since you were a little girl and the king introduced you to your first pony, it was hard to keep you away from the place. any second of free time you were granted was most definitely spent around the horses, if not on horseback.

you can never tell if iwaizumi minds you dragging him here all the time. he always just says “lead the way” with that calming look on his face and follows you on the familiar trek like a shepherd protecting a lamb. giving you a leg up onto your horse and then mounting his own.

there’s a long trail that circles the back of the castle, mostly used to exercise the horses to keep them fit while they werent transporting goods or being used by the knights. the trail cuts through a small, lush forest that pushes back against the town boarder, where a large stone fence separates you from your people.

you never understood why there was a fence in the first place when you were younger. every time you’d asked your father you’d be left even more confused than before.

“because, child.” he’d have you sat on his knee, sitting atop a throne that would one day be yours. “if you never stop giving, people never stop taking.”

the words had puzzled you then. what was your duty, if not to give?

now, as your age gave you knowledge you didn’t necessarily want, you understand his words. you understand, but you’ll never agree.

~

the trail is quiet at this time of day, the sun shining through splits in the trees and decorating the path in glimmering strips.

normally you and iwaizumi don’t talk much during your trail rides, and you enjoy the reprieve of the constant conversation you have during your time at the castle. with your knight, you don’t have to sweeten your presence with words. you don’t have to make yourself tolerable by striking up hallow conversations and smiling fakely.

right now though, there’s a question burning a hole through your throat and threatening to jump out of your mouth. with anyone else, you’d keep it to yourself. you’d swallow your thoughts down into the pit of your stomach where they’d make a knot that you wouldn’t be able to untie. keeping up appearances is more important than silly questions.

with him though, it’s different. his presence tugs at your mind like no one else. pulls the thoughts from you before you even know you’ve had them. you want to spill yourself to him, make yourself easy to read and drop your facade like a mask at a masquerade party.

and so, you do.

“iwaizumi, do you ever wonder about what you would do if you weren’t a knight?” the question sounds silly coming out of your mouth, and the pessimist inside you half expects him to tell you to “stop thinking so much, princess”, but he doesn’t.

instead, he tilts his head back slightly, humming to let you know he’s thinking up and answer for you. you look up too, wanting to see what he’s looking at. wanting to see the world through his eyes, maybe even wanting to sink into his mind and let his thoughts carry you away.

all you see is the sky. a brilliant blue with clouds partially obscured by the tips of the trees lining the path. you wonder what he sees it as. does that cloud also look like a crown to him? does it also strike nausea into his stomach and make him want to gallop away on his horse?

definitely not. your shoulders sink back down from where they’d hiked up to your ears at the thought. your knight is strong, and level headed, you can’t ever see him running away from anything.

when you tear your eyes away from the sky and look to iwaizumi, you’re startled to find he’s already looking at you.

the look on his face is something that strikes you as unique to him only. something that makes you think of being a little girl again, sneaking off to the gardens and making your young knight find you among the greenery. it makes you think of the word goodnight whispered to you almost every evening, it makes you think of the smell of pine and a soft breeze and fresh linen, and it makes you think “what if” for the millionth time.

“no, princess.”

it’s a look of understanding, of looking at you and not through you, something that fills you with melancholy and hope and the bitter taste of freedom you can’t have, you will never have.

“i was meant to be your knight.”

~

[tanadrin]

I see the points people are making that “addiction” is maybe not the ideal model to discuss this, but I also am very sympathetic to the idea that some people have problems with compulsive porn/masturbation to the point that it’s detrimental for them. I’d never claim there’s a chemical dependency as in, eg, smoking or cocaine use or something.

We need a simple word for “habit that has negative effects on my life, but which I don’t seem to have the self-control to eliminate”. Calling it addiction was/is supposed to encourage efforts to help people stop, but all it’s seemed to do is spawn the growth of weird evangelical 12-step programs for being horny.

I want to be horny, if anything, I’d like to be much *more* horny, that’s why I’m trying to quit watching porn.

for reference (and why this is on anon) I’ve probably jerked off 1-3 times a day, every day, for like 10 years, this isn’t a case of catholic guilt over mild sexual behavior. I have a very hard time staying aroused, I have a hard time even getting aroused, and I have a hard time finishing without fairly intense stimulation. If I take 1-2 weeks off of porn (challenge level, nearly impossible) I see improvements in these areas.

Several years ago, I made it almost 6 weeks, and by the end of it, I was firing on all cylinders like I was 19 again. Sadly, it apparently wasn’t the sole issue. I went to the club, picked up a woman, I got hard when we were dancing, I got hard when we were making out outside the bar, but when we were in my car and she put her hand on me, my guy was nowhere to be found. She went home by herself, I went home and was so horny I was able to get 110% hard and jerk off purely from my mind. Idk where that energy was when it counted, sadly.

Weirdly, taking a break from orgasming but continuing to watch porn often actually makes it worse. I tried edging for 8-10 days once, and by the end of it, I could barely get hard for my favorite types of video.

I’m in my late 20s now, and I know some things slow down, but I thought I was still a bit young for this type of thing. The problem is that I just can’t stop scrolling porn on twitreddit. When I’m bored, porn, when I’m lonely, porn, when I’m anxious, porn (and I’m anxious a lot).

A few months ago, I made it a week, and I was buzzing and confident, but then I backslid and went back to my old habits. It was nice while it lasted, I’d deeply missed feeling that little twitch of arousal from a random thought or from flirting with a pretty stranger. I feel neutered these days, there’s no hunger anymore.

I don’t think I’m anti-sex, really. I’ve only felt guilt from casual or relationship sex a couple of times, and my guilt from masturbation has more to do with frustration that I know it’s bad for me than with some idea of moral inferiority.

sorry if this is insane.

I really just want to stop watching porn so I can try to start dating or sleeping with people again, not much point when I’m 97% afraid my cock won’t work. It might not medically be an addiction, but for me it’s definitely a self-destructive habit.

sounds like a bunch of different things going on here. for one habituating yourself to a very specific kind of stimulus can make it hard to get off in other ways--one approach that seems to work for some people who are in a similar boat (especially men who are used to jerking off with a firm grip) is to vary how you masturbate, use different kinds of stimulus, and learn to come in other ways. masturbation provides a very close feedback loop between stimulus and response, in a way that is always going to be very different from partnered sex--most people who masturbate regularly can make them come much more quickly that way, even if they find, in absolute terms, sex with a partner to be much more pleasurable.

(an important component in re-habituating yourself like that is not to fall back on the technique that works when you get frustrated and can't come, which is why it can be difficult for some people to manage)

separately from this, having trouble maintaining an erection with a new partner is also a thing lots of men report, regardless of how much porn they look at--sometimes you get nervous! it's easy to get nervous with a new partner! this is why god invented oral sex and fingering. that kind of picking-up-a-stranger-at-a-club casual sex works well for some people, but it sure doesn't work for everybody. and because arousal and erections are heavily dependent on state of mind, being nervous about being able to get an erection can, unfortunately, make it harder to get and maintain an erection. so there's a feedback loop there that can be pretty hard to break.

thirdly, if the only filler in your life is porn--if you spend a lot of time bored or anxious with nothing to fill those gaps other than porn--it sounds like a big problem here might just be boredom or anxiety, fundamentally. i don't know you, so i'm speculating, but maybe you need hobbies, or more of a social life, or are having issues with low-grade depression that getting out of the house more would help with. and if you're fixated on porn as the cause of these issues rather than just a symptom, you're also going to be struggling with the self-esteem hit of falling back into the habit of looking at porn, which is happening because, well, you're bored and anxious and you have nothing else that helps you deal with that feeling.

[ryuichirou]

TWST boys switching dorms

Anonymous asked:

That seems oddly fitting... Does spark a question in me, who would you put in which dorm other than their own? Like what would you say is option no. 2?

As promised, I came back to this ask, or rather to the second part of it. Because it’s a very interesting question to think about! But my answers are a bit all over the place lol

They fit their own dorms so well that some of my choices ended up just being about me wanting to see the boy suffer in another setting, but for the most part I tried to be fair,  honest!

I also know that all of the boys said what other dorm they’d pick if they had to, but I haven’t seen all of those interviews and tried to not rely on them much. It wouldn’t be fun that way, right?

Riddle – you know, it’s a surprisingly tough one. I know everyone fits their current dorm very well, but with Riddle it’s so difficult to imagine him in any other dorm… I’m thinking either Diasomnia or Pomefiore, but I think I’d put him in Pomefiore, so he’d still have a lot of rules to follow, but also see how this set of rules differs from the rules he is used to lol Those are more useful, Riddle! But also, I think the uniform would look rather flattering on him.

Ace – Octavinelle. It just makes sense to me; maybe it’s his cunning nature, maybe it’s the cards, maybe it’s the fact that he is Floyd’s kohai and also stated that he would like to have Azul as an older brother at some point. He’d have a very hard time over there though lol

Deuce – Savanaclaw. I can see him in a situation similar to Jack’s: he really wants to be a proper student and do right things, but gets frustrated because of his senpais. And with Deuce’s background, he would feel both at home and as if his past is following him everywhere… still, he believes in the King of Beasts' spirit of persistence!

Trey – Octavinelle. I wanted to put him into Pomefiore at first because he would enjoy having a lab in his dorm, but a kitchen is closer to his heart. It’s not the only reason though; I think the Sea Witch’s benevolence would be a nice fit for Trey, who feels like a good senpai to a lot of people, but still has some darkness to him… Plus, he’s already wearing a fedora, so might as well look cool while doing it!

Cater – Pomefiore, and it feels like a very easy choice… Even if the Pomefiore regimen is too much for him, it can’t be that much worse than the Queen of Hearts’ rules! Plus, with every single Pomefiore student being super photogenic + Vil-the-superstar being there, Cater is probably going to enjoy his stay lol

Leona – I actually remember that he said he’d go to Pomefiore lol but I’m going to fip the script and put him into Scarabia. I was honestly this close to putting him into Diasomnia just to be mean (imagine Leona having Malleus as his housewarden lol), but… they just won’t let him sleep would they lol It’s going to be so noisy and annoying, so active and bright, that he would complain a lot. But I know that deep inside he enjoys the food that they get to eat… Kalim would insist that they’re besties now.

Ruggie – Octavinelle, easily. I think Ruggie could make it work anywhere, to be honest, but he seems to share a lot of values with the Octavinelle gang, plus, we’ve seen them working together before. And I really want to see him wearing a fedora… he would probably enjoy working at the Mostro Lounge and get promoted to manager at some point lol

Jack – Heartstlabyul. Looks like he’s switching dorms with Deuce..!! He would be confused and frustrated about all the rules that make no sense, but I think there is a lot about Heartslabyul and its housewarden in particular that Jack could at least respect. He’d also memorise the rules easily, I think lol I’ll also note that I really wanted to put him in Pomefiore at first, but… I’d end up putting everyone in Pomefiore, so I had to stop myself lol

Azul – Scarabia. Congratulations, Azul, now you’ll finally be able to pester Jamil all the time! In all seriousness though, Scarabia and Octavinelle feel like the two dorms that have some overlap in terms of their attitude (ignoring Kalim’s whole party thing, of course…), so Azul’s sly nature would shine there as well. The only problem is that it’s probably too damn hot there for Azul lol but otherwise, he’d just be smiling 24/7, so it’s for the best.

Jade – Pomefiore. Let’s be honest, he really enjoyed his time there… He would have a lot of fun! Well, maybe he won’t like yoga all that much, but that’s also a plus because we’d get to see long-ass Jade who doesn’t bend all that well lol Jokes aside, Jade would absolutely love the potionology aspect of this dorm + would probably keep making Rook jealous with how nice of an assistant he is to Vil.

Floyd – “why me??”, he would say, as I also put him in Pomefiore… remember that one Halloween scene where Vil asked everyone to remove their makeup but washed Floyd’s face himself for some reason? Yes, this, but now it’s every day! And we’ve seen him actually really respecting Vil’s strength a couple of times, so he could even have fun there sometimes… Of course, there is no way he wouldn’t have like 15 tantrums per day, but if there is anything Floyd (and Jade, for that matter) absolutely doesn’t lack, it’s tenacity, so he’s better enjoy his stay lol

Kalim – god, every other dorm is too mean lol Or rather, I feel like Kalim would turn any dorm into Scarabia the moment he enters it. He just has this power of taking the party vibes everywhere. Maybe Heartslabyul??  But he would also absolutely not follow the rules, but somehow never get in trouble for it. It’s not like he hates the rules – he just can’t remember them at all… but he does remember that they have tea parties! And he is always happy to participate, even if he can’t eat anything there!

Jamil – Octavinelle. I’m sorry, Jamil, but you know I’m right. I feel like Azul is the main reason he is so against joining Octavinelle lol But he would fit in perfectly, both because of his cunningness/cleverness and because of his culinary skills. He would be great as a chef and as a waiter… Every time I see Jamil I think about how big of an asset he would be to the Lounge... and to Azul in general… ah, if only…!!

Vil – Diasomnia; I am biased because I actually remember Vil saying that he would pick Diasomnia if he absolutely had to pick any other dorm, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. The uniform would look so hot oh my god- I mean, it just works, doesn’t it? Vil loves having strict regimen, and I think he even said something about not wanting to fight Malleus for the housewarden status… he would hang out with Lilia and discipline Sebek a lot lol

Rook – Savanaclawis an easy answer because he’s already been there, so I’ll purposefully avoid it… even though I think Rook fits in there perfectly lol But now I am truly torn, because I can see him somehow thriving everywhere… he is like a weed growing through concrete lol a part of me wants to put him in Ignihide!! But I’ll put him in Heartslabyul instead – he would enjoy it a lot: they have trees, beastmen, critters and a Queen to worship <3 All of his favourite things.

Epel – oh how much he’d love to be in Savanaclaw, and I’d love to see him there as well, but I kinda don’t want to grace him with such a gift lol So in Diasomnia he goes! First of all, once again, consider the uniform. He would look too damn hot for his own good. Second of all, what Epel really desperately needs is discipline, and if he’s not in Pomefiore, he might as well be in another dorm that is pretty strict in terms of discipline lol The entire aura would be good for him, I think. Or maybe I just love dark!Epel…

Idia – Octavinelle; I feel like this is the least painful option for him lol Of course he would still be a recluse, but it’s a bit easier in Octavinelle – as long as you don’t get in trouble with Azul and avoid the Tweels, no one is really going to bother you. And Idia is pretty good at that… He also has the same quid pro quo mindset as Octavinelle, so if he absolutely HAS to participate somewhere he could suggest doing something for the dorm instead, like building new computers, upgrading the Lounge’s kitchen gadgets, etc.

Ortho – I’m writing him last because it was the most difficult to think about this one, buuut Diasomnia. Pomefiore feels like a more obvious option because his favourite senpai is there, but because Ortho’s enrollment in NRC is pretty much an experiment, why not put him into a place where mister “I accidentally break phones” lives? With so many unique magical and cultural aspects related to fae AND with Diasomnia being so non-reliant on technology, Ortho would have to work very hard to figure out the best way to operate there. I just gave him a challenge…

Lilia – he would work wonderfully in Savanaclaw (he would make soldiers out of these pups!), and he would have a lot of fun in Scarabia, but I’m going to actually put him in Ignihyde. Both because he is interested in videogames and because of how much of an extravert he is. He is also pretty used to dealing with introverts, so for some reason I feel like he’ll find a way to make Ignihyde students somewhat more… willing to hang out and have a funky time. But maybe he’ll just be super bored because they’d start avoiding him because he is scary lol Well, Idia won’t be able to hide.

Silver – Heartslabyul because I want him to take care of hedgehogs and flamingos… he is also very good at following the rules and very careful; I feel like his attitude would work with the Heartslabyul’s vibes nicely. Well, it’s not like he won’t get in trouble for falling asleep during an inappropriate time. Imagine sleepy Silver in Riddle’s collar? Trying to wake himself up with some nice tea… He is the Dormouse 😭

Sebek – according to Sebek himself, if he didn’t get into Diasomnia, he would live in Diasomnia’s garden LOL Honestly, that’s a tough one. I can easily picture him in Heartslabyul or Pomefiore, both are very strict and Sebek would definitely thrive there, plus learn a thing or two. I would love to see both Pomefiore!Sebek and Heartslabyul!Sebek…!! But I’m going to put him into Savanaclaw; he can fight with beastmen and express his anger all he wants lol Maybe he’ll just get tons of enemies to punch on a daily basis, but who knows, maybe that’ll make them learn discipline. Oh right, isn’t his grandpa from Sunset Savannah? I forgot about it…

Malleus – Scarabia. Another very tough choice; I really wanted to put him in Pomefiore or Heartslabyul, because you know, the noble vibes and all, and Scarabia does feel like a weird choice, but hear me out: Malleus being invited to a banquet every single day? Having plenty of opportunity to dance and hang out with everyone? Maybe at some point people would even be a bit less terrified of him! And if not, well, at least he’d befriend Kalim… honestly, this sounds more like a doujin/fanfic prompt than anything lol

[frink-o-matic]

I’m not sure how much longer I can handle being anxious.

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[deoidesign]

.

[dzozef]

i got offered the promotion at work.... why am i every business owners wettest dream damn....

[floral-hex]

Another night I feel like my world is ending, so I went for a drive. Tried to sleep earlier. Nothing doing. Took a couple antianxieties. Surprisingly, not much help. Made me a little sleepy, cried a little, maybe a little more relaxed, but still…. blegh.

So, I’ve got my beeg drink, a podcast going, and I’m sitting in the Kroger parking lot because it’s 4:30+ in the morning and I need to see actual humans walking around. I don’t know how to explain it. Seeing other people continue on with their lives helps calm my doomer anxiety.

This sucks.

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument

love and deepspace

characters: Zayne, Sylus (pt2 here pt3 here)

note: they might be a little mischaracterized so bear with me.

Zayne

Usually, arguments with Zayne don’t get this heated. There was no yelling, not on his part at least, but he could be really cold with his words when he wanted to be. Not that you were any better. Some things you said hurt him to no end. So you came up with a decision - to sleep on a couch tonight. To be honest, it was more because to be petty, than not wanting to spend a night beside him. You gathered your pillow and blanket and got comfortable on the couch, which made Zayne sigh out loud when he entered the room.

“What is this?”

You turned your back to him as an answer. Another sigh comes out of his mouth. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you acting like a brat doesn’t ease anything at all.

“I know you’re mad, dear but is this necessary?”

No answer.

“Alright”

He left the room and before you could convince yourself that you didn’t care he was back with a blanket of his own and took a seat in an armchair. You turn your head towards him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“I guess we’re not sleeping in bed tonight”

“I’m not. You can go”

“I believe I didn’t stutter”

You scoffed and turned around again.

“suit yourself”

Minutes pass and sleep doesn’t come to you. Whether it’s because of an uncomfortable couch or an absence of his arms around you is hard to say, but after turning around thousands of times and still not being able to sleep is frustrating.

Finally, Zayne had enough of watching your struggle.

“How about we go to bed?”

“No” came your response after a second of hesitation. With a small amused smile on his face, he hovered over the couch.

“What do you say… I take you to bed and you can curse me out for it tomorrow?”

You shifted a little but didn’t answer, which made his smile widen. He gathered you in his arms and your lack of objection was all he needed to take you to your room and tucking you in bed. Even though you seemed to warm up he didn’t know how far he could push you, so kneeling beside the bed to be on your eye level he started:

“If you still need space I can-”

“Stay”

He smiled at you tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Okay”

He got up and kissed your forehead before slipping in beside you and pulling you closer.

"I'm sorry..." you mutter

"Shh, we'll talk about it tomorrow... but I'm sorry too"

You smile a little. You two will sort this out tomorrow.

Sylus

What Sylus says, goes around. His word is the law. This is what he’s used to. That's how it's always been.

Then you came into his life and even though he’s still in charge of how things go in the N109 zone, you just need to say the word and everything will be how you like it. No questions, no hesitation. He would give you the world if you so much as whispered the need. Whatever you want, whatever you need, he will make it happen.

Unless, when it comes to your safety. Now don’t get me wrong. Sylus knows you can defend yourself and then some. But when it comes to the N109 zone, there are things Sylus knows better than you. Additionally, The fact that you can be reckless in your battles does nothing to help ease his worries.

That was the reason for the heated argument tonight. Sylus with his harsh words and snarky remarks always finds a way to infuriate you. So you two go on and on for half an hour now and none of you seems to back down. You storm off to your room and take your things to get comfortable on the couch. However, on your way out Sylus blocks your way. He raises an eyebrow at the blanket and pillow in your arms.

“Now, what exactly do you think you are doing, sweetie?”

“move”

“I asked you a question”

“I’m not sleeping beside you- Sylus” you exclaim as he hoists you over his shoulder. you punch and scratch his back but to no avail.

“Careful with your claws, kitten”

He drops you on the bed climbing over you.

“Now listen, this is what will happen. You will stop acting like a wild kitten and sleep beside me. I am sorry for hurting you but we will discuss it tomorrow, when we are both a lot calmer. Understood?”

You don’t want to give in so easily. You also don’t want to sleep without him tonight. So you nod avoiding eye contact. He, however, doesn’t accept it and raises your chin with his finger to make you look at him.

“Use your words, sweetie”

“Yes”

“Splendid” He removed himself from you so you could get under the blanket. He laid beside you and pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest.

"Sy... I'm sorry too"

"So I'm Sy now?"

This man.

"Nevermind, you're still a prick"

You try to remove his arm but he holds you tighter as he laughs.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry, sweetie"

You felt him kiss the crown of your head as he caressed your shoulder with his thumb. you return to your previous position and listening to his heartbeat, sleep lured you in soon enough.

[loonylupinblack3]

Go Slow

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: SMUT! p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), riding, (brief) dry humping

Summary: it's your first time and Logan tries to go slow, he really does, but some things just can't be helped

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: i'm not too practiced in smut so sorry if it's shit 😭

Logan knew you were on the shy side of things. During the start of your relationship he’d had to coax words from you, feelings and opinions you held until you felt comfortable enough to share them without being asked. You’d be nervous and fidgety when asking to see him, acting like he was an attractive stranger when he was your boyfriend. 

In all honesty though Logan didn’t mind. He enjoyed your shy, almost naive personality, and was more than happy to wait for you to be comfortable with him before suggesting going any further. 

Sure, it was difficult for him to wait, but not impossible. If his pants tightened slightly when you walked in the room with ridiculously short shorts and practically sat in his lap with them, you didn’t notice. When you were sleeping in bed together and would unconsciously rub yourself against him, causing him to have to leave the bed for a bit lest he did something he'd regret, you remained blissfully unaware. And if he was putting away your laundry and came across a pair of lacy black panties with bows adorning it, you wouldn’t even notice they went missing.

Logan was more than okay to wait.

You, on the other hand, were not.

It started with small changes in you and your actions, though Logan couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was. You were more flustered around him than usual, jumpier and shier than you’d been before. You were quieter too, staring at him with more intensity than before, as if trying to read his mind. Yet it wasn’t as if you were pulling away from him, because you were much more touchy and clingy than usual, always needing to hold him and often being the initiator of any make out session you two might have- which is as far as you’d gone.

It was during one of these sessions, having started when you both grew bored of the movie playing on the screen, that you started straddling Logan, kissing him with more fevor than you usually did. Surprised, though certainly not disappointed, Logan kissed you back, hands resting on your thighs and occasionally running up and down them when his control slipped.

When he felt you rock against him slightly he knew something was up. You were never this forward with him, and was always the one to stop Logan when he got a bit carried away. Yet there you were, gently rocking against him while you kissed, moving against his jeans almost desperately, rubbing against him until there was a rock hard bulge for you to move against and Logan had to gently push you off him.

Immediately you started apologising, looking at your hands nervously fidgeting with your t-shirt, refusing to so much as glance at Logan.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright Bub,” Logan said gently. “I just don’t want to do anything before talking about it first.”

You risked a glance at him, trying to find any lie in his face. “You’re not angry at me?”

Logan would have laughed if he wasn’t worried about upsetting you further. “‘Course not. I fucking loved that, actually, but we can’t do it, or anything like that, without talking about it first. I gotta make sure you’re okay with it.”

You nodded your head with such eagerness Logan’s cock twitched in his pants. “I’m okay with it.”

He smiled at your needy demeanour and had to hold himself back from gladly going along with it. “What exactly do you want, Sweetheart? I gotta know that.”

You bit your lips shyly, glancing up at him from your lashes in such a way Logan was tempted to be fucked with all of this and just take you. He’d been waiting for months, however, so he could certainly wait a few more minutes, and restrained himself as such.

“I want to feel good,” you mumbled quietly. “Want you to make me feel good.”

Oh fuck.

Logan wasn’t sure he could handle this. Desire was coursing through his veins, his cock was throbbing almost painfully against his pants as he watched you, shy and naive but so wanting for him.

“Alright Bub, we can do that,” he eventually said, because fuck he wanted to make you feel good too. He wanted you moaning and whimpering his name, whining and panting underneath him because of him.

Yet as soon as he had you undressed and under him he could tell it wasn’t what you wanted. You looked petrified, eyes squeezed shut as you waited for Logan to enter you, and that just wouldn’t do.

“I’m not doing this Sweetheart,” he said, moving away.

You opened your eyes, seeming both relieved and disappointed at the same time. “What? Why?”

Logan sighed, wrapping you up in his arms and kissing your neck. Even with both of you naked it was surprisingly not desire filled and simply comforting. “Because you obviously don’t want it.”

You shook your head and turned around to face him, straddling him in a similar position as before. “I do want it. Just… it felt a bit scary like that.”

Logan thought about her words for a moment before inspiration struck him. “Do you want to ride me instead?”

You actually gasped, your eyes widening at the suggestion, yet he could also see the desire radiating off of you- he could smell it too- and feel the slick coming from your cunt at the thought. He smirked, taking that as a yes.

“I’m going to lift you up and slowly place you down on me. You can stop me at any moment, okay?” he asked you, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with this.

You nodded your head, looking apprehensive but also excited, as you glanced down at his hard on, licking your lips slightly. “I don’t know if it will fit.”

Logan nearly groaned then and there. “It will.”

Hesitant but sure, you let Logan’s hands wrap around your waist and lift you up, positioning his cock at your entrance. He gave you a few seconds to back out, and when you didn’t, staring at him confidently, Logan sunk you down on his cock.

Fuck even just his tip inside you felt like heaven, your cunt squeezing against him. You let out a gasp and he hesitated, waiting, and you slowly nodded your head, giving him the go ahead to continue. He did so gently, making you take him inch by inch, stopping every so often for you to get used to the feeling of him until you’d finally taken all of him inside you.

The feeling of your walls squeezing his cock was heavenly. He could barely think, and all he wanted to do was fuck you hard and fast, chase the release he so desperately wanted. Yet he waited for it to feel comfortable for you, waiting for the pain to ease before he did anything.

“Okay… what now?” you asked in a timid voice.

Logan had to muffle the sound threatening to escape him at the sight of you blinking bashfully at him while he was inside you. It was too good to be true.

“Now you move,” Logan said roughly, because he didn’t trust himself to move and not fuck you viciously like he wanted to.

You thought for a moment before giving an experimental rock, gasping at the pleasure accompanying the action. You repeated the rock again, then again, creating a slow but sure movement that was slowly killing Logan.

Every sway of your hips, the way you rode his cock eagerly if not skillfully, was pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it baby,” he rasped. “Just like that, you’re doing so good for me baby.”

You rolled your hips, whining at the praise and closing your eyes but only increasing your motions, one hand moving up to cup your breast. You grounded onto him, gasping when he hit that perfect spot, whispering Logan’s name like a prayer

He swore at the sight, and couldn’t help the jerk his hips made, a small gasp escaping you. It felt so good, the spike of pleasure overwhelming and your readily response too much, and he did it again.

You moaned this time, a dirty, high pitched sound that was ringing in Logan’s ears, urging him on as he took your hips in his hand and lifted you up, only to slam you down on his cock again. Your moan was delicious, and you placed both your hands on his chest, moving forward to make him go deeper.

Logan did groan this time, and used your hips to continue moving you on his dick, his large hands squeezing the soft flesh of your hips. You were a whining mess, eyes glazed and body limp above him.

“Feel so good,” Logan grunted, thrusting into you. “So fucking good for me.”

You whimpered, gasping as your eyes fluttered closed again. Logan grinned.

“You like that baby? You like me telling you what a good girl you’re being, riding my cock so prettily.”

Your moans came more frequent, panting every second, and Logan could tell you were close. He increased his pace, wanting to see you fall apart in front of him, and wasn’t disappointed by the result.

“Come on baby, cum for me.”

With a cry you threw your head back, ecstasy painting your face as you came, your walls tightening. The feeling of them squeezing Logan’s dick, your cunt milking it for all its worth was too much and he felt himself fall after you, his load of cum shooting into your already stuffed hole.

“Fuck baby,” he cursed, helping you ride out both your highs, moving your hips over him.

You were still panting as you slowly came down from your high, boneless as you laid against Logan’s chest.

“You did so good for me darling,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.

You let out a sound, nuzzling his neck, and he happily held you against him, pressing kisses to your face and neck till you were ready to move.

[gravegoer]

Do you write for Grayson by any chance? I really wished we got see more of her before her unfortunate demise

Sevika , Ambessa , Grayson ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

i write for anyone! and you can request a separate thing for grayson if you'd like but I decided to do the 3 butches in 1 so here's some random stuff for them

council member sevika fic

Ambessa doesn't love often, but when she does, she loves HARD.

Since you're close to her, she is constantly worried people about hurting you to get to her.

You might have enforcers on you 24/7 unless you tell her to stop and if that's the case. She will follow you around herself. Making sure people know you are always under a close watch by her.

When you walk in public together, she likes you to have your arms wrapped around her bicep/forearm, keeping you as close as possible.

If that's not in your taste she will sling a heavy arm over your shoulder, careful not to weigh you down.

She is always buying you expensive and lavish clothing. If your gaze lingers on anything for too long, you'll see it at your doorstep the next day.

When you see a nice shop you like she's going to take you in and make you try on clothes for her. Putting her hand on your waist as she spins you around. Inviting you to stand between her spread legs so she can see the details better.

If you like to wear heels and your feet start to get tired, she will sit you down and take them off your feet herself, opting to carry you around for the next few hours.

When she carries you, you can see all the scars on her arms and face in full detail. She doesn't seem to mind your staring and might even take pride in herself.

As you're cuddling, she loves it when you trace your fingers over her scars, admiring every bump and edge. She will tell you dramatic stories about how she got them. (Definitely exaggerating some details.)

You could talk together for ages, bringing up random stories and irrelevant details. Her rough hands combing through your hair, or massaging your shoulders.

This was a weekly thing in the hot springs. She sits on the ledge above you while your shoulders slot themselves between her thick, scarred thighs.

She will take care of you without expecting anything back, but she definitely loves it when you return the favor. She will rest her head on your thighs and groan in pleasure when you massage her temples or scalp.

Grayson is a romantic, she will be showing up at your door with flowers in hand.

If she met you in Zaun, she will insist on taking you out on a fancy dinner date at her favorite Piltover resteraunt.

If you refuse, that's okay too. She's fine with eating at any of Zaun's resteraunts. (Just not seafood, please.)

She's asking you what your favorite flower is so she can bring you those instead next time.

And if you are a Zaunite, she isn't ashamed of your relationship, showing you off proudly. After all, all the enforcers do look up to her. What are they going to do?

If you don't know how to shoot, she will be more than pleased to teach you. Your back is pressed against her warm chest as she wraps her arms around you to hold the gun steady.

Her rough voice firmly commands you on where to put your hands and which parts do what.

Speaking of her voice, she knows you love it when she whispers sweet nothings in your ear before you drift off to sleep. Her muscled arm cushioning your head and cradling you close to her chest.

It's easy for her to fall asleep once she knows you're safe and comfortable. (That's why she insists on moving in together.

Actually, she insists on doing a lot of things together. For example, she appreciates when you work out with her, sitting on her back while she does pushups, or maybe spotting her while she presses some weight. (Not that she needs it. She just wants you close)

She instructs you on what workouts you can do and where to place her hands, maybe placing hers on yours for a bit too long.

You can see the sweat gleam on her forehead and the veins in her forearm after every set she completes. This is a sight you can grow to appreciate.

She definitely subtlety flexes when you touch her arm or basically anywhere else she can possibly bring herself to flex. (You notice)

Sevika is the gentlest giant. At first, you might assume her tone is rough and condescending. But after some time, you start to see through her facade.

Her tone around is more firm and calm. It's more around you than anyone else. She tries not to get aggressive or angry with you.

And if she does, she's immediately making it up to you in every way but saying "sorry"

She's bringing you your favroite foods, giving you a little more affection than usual, reluctantly letting you fidget with her mechanical arm.

She does take you out to places, albeit not the fanciest. She makes do with what Zaun has to offer. Buying you a drink at the bar or a trip across the city.

Although she's not really a big fan of PDA, she will let you hold her arm while walking around Zaun. She swears it's a safety precaution to make sure no creeps get close.

When she plays cards at the bar, you are always beside her, no arguements. She doesn't want you sitting by any of the other shady men that play with her.

Maybe if there is few enough people you can sit in her lap and light her cigarillo for her.

What you don't do in public is definitely made up for in private.

She lays on your lap after a long day, taking deep inhales into your stomach to calm down. Grabbing your hand, she'll encourage you to run your fingers through her hair.

Let's you hold her face in your hands and trace her intricate scar while her eyes are closed, completely letting her guard down.

Her large hand engulfs your own as she cradles your hand close to her face, imprinting this memory in her mind.

Just know she is extremely touch starved. Most of the touching she gets all day is punches and kicks, nothing close to the gentle sweep of your fingers on her exposed skin.

She isn't a big gift giver, but if you give her a neat suprise, like an expensive zippo or a new shirt (God knows she needs one) you swear you see a small tear in the corner of her eye. Maybe its just the light.

But who cares because her lips will immediately be on yours, engulfed in a hot kiss.

i feel like sevika needed more screen time in the last act but its okay as long as she didn't die...

[mostly-imagines]

So This Is Love

jason todd x fem!reader

aka you show each other what love is supposed to be like

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: section 1: close-call panic attack for j, mentions of ptsd for j // section 2: implied sexual activity // section 3: mild angst w comfort // section 4: implied ptsd for j

He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.

The nightmare wasn’t anything unusual for him, but it did feel particularly vivid tonight. It was more of a memory than anything, though. That same one that plays on a loop in his head throughout the night the more he tries to push it away during the day. It was the last thwack of the crowbar that had him jolt awake in bed.

You shift in your spot next to him, opening your eyes to see his rattled state. If he’d been in a clearer frame of mind he would’ve lied to you. He would’ve expertly leveled his breathing and told you everything was fine and to go back to sleep.

But instead, he looks over at you with wide eyes, chest heaving and shaking like he might start hyperventilating at any moment.

You shoot up from the bed, instantly on alert. This isn’t the first time he’s had one of these nightmares around you, so it’s not hard for you to guess where this is coming from.

“Jay? What’s—what do you need?” You know better than to try and touch him unprompted right now, you’ve panicked enough yourself to know that sudden contact only makes it worse.

“I—I can’t, I—” Now he really looks like he’s about to lose all control of his breathing.

You sit up further, moving onto your knees. “Here, let me—can I see your hand?” you ask gently, holding your own out.

He extends it to you without question, a tiny act of vulnerability that he couldn’t have dreamed of doing in this state before he met you.

You flip his hand over, palm-up and start tracing lines over it in the moonlight. You’re looking at his hand quite intently like there’s something very important on it. It’s enough to make him question what the hell you’re doing. 

“I can read palms.” You tell him, simply. 

“What?” His voice almost breaks, like he’s right at the edge of tears. 

“Yeah, my friend taught me. I can tell the future and everything.” You look up at him, fingers not stopping their trailing. “Do you wanna hear yours?”

All he can do is nod.

You smile and start to inspect his hand carefully, tracing over calluses and a few tiny scars. You draw your finger across the short, deep line parallel to his fingers.

“This one…see the way it curves upwards right there?” He nods. “That means you’re very resourceful and ambitious. Like a leader.” His breathing starts to slow as he watches you, trying to focus on what you’re showing him in the dim light from the window.

“And this one,” you trace the line that curves downwards in the middle, “This one says that you’re strong and stubborn, which I can confirm,” he huffs out a laugh. It’s little but it’s genuine. “But it also means that you’re resilient. You’re built to overcome things and bounce back even stronger because of them. Which I can also confirm.”

He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He takes in a deep breath, watching you draw patterns across the base of his palm.

The sensation soothes him in a way that he frankly didn’t know he could be soothed. He figures he usually can’t, except when it’s you. He tries to match your breathing, syncing up with you. If anyone else tried to get this close to him when he was on the verge of a panic attack they’d get punched, at best.

But you…you always know how to help him. He’s considered in the past that he did something really right somewhere down the line and you were sent to him as reward. He’d racked his mind for hours of every good thing he’d ever done, trying to find one that could explain your presence in his life. For anything that could explain why he deserved you. He poured and poured over every memory he could dig up but couldn’t find any good he’d ever done that surmounted to a single piece of the good in your heart.

There was a time when he would’ve thought—when he did think that you were only in his life to be taken away as soon as he felt safe. That would certainly be in line with previous experiences. But you showed him quickly that you have this way about you…it makes those loud thoughts in the back of his head shut up and just listen. Listen to your words, your breathing, your footsteps, your laugh…anything he could. Because it turns out, when he listens, he feels safe. 

He’s quiet for a long time, contentedly watching you work. He notices that at some point you’d stopped tracing the lines and began drawing designs instead. 

He breaks the silence after several minutes, softly commenting, “You don’t know how to read palms.”

“No, I do not.” 

But you continued to leave your invisible art on the palm of his hand just the same, both of you taking comfort in the sound of the other's breathing and the soothing feeling of each other’s skin.

The radio plays lightly in the background, surrounding your night with soft ambience. You’re working at the cutting board with tomatoes as Jason leans against the counter next to you, having just finished getting the pasta set up on the stove.

His hands find your hips, resting them there as he watches you work over your shoulder.

“Watch your thumb.” He comments when the knife gets a little too close for his liking.

You shrug him off, “I know how to do it.”

He eyes the way the knife stutters as you cut through the tomato, slicing through not very cleanly at all. “Doesn’t look like it.”

You ignore him, elbowing him gently in the abdomen. He’s joking, but he’s not. The skill level you’re displaying is only above Bruce and slightly below Tim, which is not great.

“Will you let me do it?” he asks you when he realizes there’s going to be no improvement. 

“Fine.” You relent with faux annoyance. 

You switch over to the stovetop, keeping a careful eye on the pasta as it cooks. It’s quiet for a moment as he works, chopping with much more efficiency than you had.  

“You didn’t have to stay here tonight, you know.” You say quietly, still intently watching the stove.

In spite of the music, your low volume does nothing to faze him as he continues his actions, “Why wouldn’t I?”

You stir the contents of the saucepan around. “Well, I know Roy wanted you to go out…”

“Not missing much.” He mumbles, opening up the above cabinet to get out plates.

You lull your head to the side, “Come on, he’s your best friend.”

Jason frowns. “He’s not my best friend.”

You turn your head towards him, “No?”

He meets your gaze, frown consistent. “No. You are.” He says it like he’s confused that you don’t know that. 

“Oh.” You smile, “You’re my best friend too.”

His eyes soften at that, a light smile gracing his lips. He knew that, and he knew you’d say it, but hearing it out loud just…does something to him.

You flick the stove top off, prompting him to on instinct reach for the Marinara jar and crack it open for you. He hands it to you and you accept with a smile, twisting it open the rest of the way as you turn back to the stove. The jar sputters as you open, spitting out sauce.    

“Oh, shit.” You hiss, when the splatter hits your shirt.

He takes one glance at the mess on your shirt and pulls his own shirt off his back. He’s tugging yours off just as fast, replacing it with his. You’ve barely processed what happened as he scans your body, eyes lingering on where his shirt stops at your thighs. “Can you wear this to bed tonight?” He asks, hands running over your waist.

You laugh, “Really?”

He meets your eyes, face serious. “Yes.” He squeezes your hip, “You look good.”

“In your shirt.” You say with a knowing smile.

“In my shirt.” He confirms.

You turn back to the stove to dish out the salsa, his hands skimming around your thighs as you do. He watches you as you work, though rather than watching your hands he’s fixated on the size of his shirt over you and how fucking good you look right now. 

“Or…” He sweeps his eyes over your legs before looking back up at you again. “Did’ya turn the stove off?”

You tilt your head at him, “I did…?”

He grins at you, lifting you up by your thighs til you’re a head above him. “Good.” He maneuvers you over to the counter, setting you on top. He brings your wrist up to his mouth to press a delicate kiss before dropping to his knees.

You’ve been laying in bed for at least three hours, bordering on sleep but never quite falling in. You and Jason had a little spat, though nothing insurmountable, it was still the biggest fight you’ve had to date. You’d tried going out (at night) to see your friend that was having a hard time, and yeah, you should’ve told Jason you were going. It was only five blocks, give or take, but in Gotham at eleven o’clock at night, it’s a risk to say the least.

You should’ve told Jason, you know. But he wouldn’t have let you go or would’ve insisted on putting hold on patrolling to accompany you. You always feel bad when he does that—people could be getting hurt somewhere because you needed your boyfriend to walk you down the street. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter in the end because he caught you red handed before you’d even made it a full block away. Of all the nights for him to come home early, it had to be this one.

He dropped down from the rooftop behind you and scared the absolute hell out of you, and you didn’t even have time to be relieved that it was just him because he was on you in a flash. 

“What the hell are you doing out here?” His voice was hard through the modulator, a rare tone for him to use with you.

“I just—my friend—” he sounded tired and angry, sure signs that he’d really not had a good night so far which was probably all the more reason that you shouldn’t have been out by yourself in the middle of the night.

“What are you—no! Go home. Now.” You would’ve, you really would’ve, but your friend called you crying about her boyfriend cheating on her again and she needed the in person support. 

“Ja—” You’d cut yourself off, “It’s down the street, it’s fine—” He dropped his shoulders in a huff and faced you dead-on. You didn’t need him to take his helmet off to know exactly how he was looking at you.

He dropped down and hooked his arm around the back of your legs, lifting you off the ground with no discernible effort. “Wha—”

He started walking before you were even fully planted on his shoulder, arm wrapping around your legs to hold you in place. 

“Hood! I am so fucking serious, put me down!” You swatted at his back and struggled in his grip, though in the back of your mind you knew it was a pointless effort. Even if you were a match in size, whatever mood he’d been pushed in was enough to guarantee that you had no chance. 

He ignored you, not even pretending that you were giving him any difficulty with your squirming. He marched you back down the block to your apartment, not stopping until you’re outside your door. He set you down in between him and the entrance, digging into his pocket for his key.

He kicked the door shut behind him, finally letting you go. He wordlessly grabbed one of his spare guns and two cartridges of ammo from inside the closet by the door and turned back to you with a firm stance. “Stay here.”

You immediately tried to push past him again, at that point more angry about him dragging you back here than about having to duck out on your friend. He stopped you, holding you by the arms, which led you to respond by raising your voice at him, “Jason!” 

But he didn’t waste any time letting you know how it is, “I will lock you in this fucking apartment. Stay. Here.” Him cursing at you like that was very rare and not a particularly good sign, so through your anger you’d made the decision that it was better to relent, for now. Your posture dropped and you frowned at him resentfully, a visible cue that you were giving in without you having to say it. 

He stayed true to his word and locked the door on his way out, though knowing you could easily unlock it from the inside. You’d trudged into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.   

Now you lay on Jason’s usual side of the bed, partially because you do miss him, partially because the bed feels a little less empty when you can’t see all the empty space. You know he was just trying to keep you safe after what was probably a rough start to the night, so you feel less than great that you’d yelled at him.

Your dwelling over the memory is interrupted by a quiet creak of the bedroom door. You blink up at him blearily, “Jay?” You sit up, furrowing your brow. You didn’t even hear him come home. “What’s wrong?” You figure he must be hurt to come in here—it’s not unknown for him to sleep on the couch if he feels like he did something wrong or upset you.   

Your eyes attempt to adjust to the darkness, scanning over him for any injuries. He’s out of his armor and in his regular clothes which means he must have showered already. And you know from dozens of nights patching him up that he always tends to his injuries before showering.

This leaves you confused, as you look up at him, waiting for an answer. “I can’t…I don’t want to sleep without you.” He whispers, eyes on the floor. 

You shuffle back into your usual spot near the wall and hold your hand out to him expectantly. You’re still a bit cross with him, but you miss him too much to care right now.

It takes him a second to move, but he eventually lingers away from the door and makes his way to the bed. He takes your hand as he climbs onto the bed, letting go only when you lay down after him, staring up at the ceiling next to him. 

You weren’t entirely expecting him to wrap his arms around you and tug you into his chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’d assumed he would lay on his side and you on yours and that would be enough for him to fall asleep with. Instead, he tightens his arms and buries his face into the crook of your neck. You lay there in silence for a couple minutes, both thinking.

“You’re mad.” He mumbles into your shoulder after a while. You know he feels badly about the dispute, you knew it while it was still happening. As hard as he tries, he’s not very good at hiding his emotions. Not with you, anyways.

You shrug slightly. “Barely. I’ll get over it. This is more important.”

He picks his head up to look at you, “I love you. You know that?”

You wiggle out of his grip a bit, making him frown. You use the new space to flip over to face him, before placing his arm back around your waist. You peek up at him, looking him in the eyes, “I do. You know I love you. Even when we fight.”

He looks at you like he’s a bit thrown off by your words. “I’m sorry. It was just…it was a rough night…I—I’m sorry.” He tells you dolefully.  

You shake your head, frowning. “Don’t be. I should’ve texted you.”

“It—yeah. Please. I just worry about you.” He looks so sad and it makes you feel somehow worse.

“I know,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”  

“Don’t be.” He kisses your forehead, not moving away after.

You feel like you can finally relax and your tense body doesn’t take long to slacken in his hold. Soon after, he does the same, both of you closing your eyes. You feel your heart slow and your mind starts to find a space of peace.    

Jason didn’t get it at first.

Honestly, he didn’t really realize that you noticed things about him that even he didn’t see.

Your neighbor was having their place remodeled and you knew there would be construction going on near your apartment all day.

Jason didn’t really care, planning to bury his head under the pillow and trying to sleep through it. You however, seemed very adamant about getting out of the apartment that day. You’d left hours before the construction crew had even gotten there, telling him it was a nice day out.

It was an alright day, but he let you have your way.

You held his hand as you walked down the street, looking into shop windows and commenting on things you think he’d like.

You led him into a book store excitedly, telling him about how the author he’d been binging had just published something new. He didn’t even know that.

You were browsing the sections, flipping through books as you went. You peered across the shop at a kid holding an absolutely massive pile of books, who was clearly struggling to keep them in his arms.

His mother tried to help him but he shook his head and strided away independently, albeit very slowly. The weight of the books though, did get the best of him, and you could tell by the quivering in his arms that he was going to drop them.

“Loud noise.” You said quickly, seemingly out of the blue. Jason turned to you, confused, before seeing the stack the books splat flat onto the ground. It was indeed a loud noise.

He tilts his head at you, though you’re still busy watching the little boy as he throws his head back in frustration.

“What was that?”

You look at him, “He dropped his books.”

“Yeah, I saw. But why—”

His question gets cut off by the kid bursting into tears, wailing. You turn back to look at him, your gaze getting caught by the new book you’d been telling him about. “Ooh!”

You grab his hand and pull him over with you, smiling widely when you have the book in your hands. The sight of you makes him feel so warm so fast that he forgets about the odd interaction all together.

A couple hours later, you sit outside a cafe and eat lunch together, his back to the road, you sitting diagnal to him.

He’s telling you about the shit Damian got in trouble for at school last week, holding your hand with his right hand and eating with his left.

“He thinks he’s not going to get expelled for pulling shit like that every other week, it’s ridiculous.” He says, tossing his napkin down on the table.

Your smile is wavers as your eyes move past his shoulder looking down the block before widening, “Car—”

The sudden noise startles him enough to make him visibly jump, hand flying to where his holster would be. He looks over at the fender bender, shoulders relaxing.

He turns back to you to find your eyes looking far more worried than they should. You seem to be scanning his face, looking for something and he’s about to ask you what’s wrong when it sinks in.

He does get scared by unexpected loud sounds, doesn’t he? He never really thinks of it until it happens, but his mind is trained to expect gunshots or crowbars making impact.

It doesn’t happen often, but it noticeably takes a little piece out of him when it does.

“You…” he tries, but falters. He’s not even sure he’s processing this right.

He’s never seriously tried to fathom that you love him half as much as he loves you, though love doesn’t feel like a strong enough word. He lives and breathes for you, you’ve become a lifeline he’d been stranded without for most of his life. But now you're here and you’re everything, you’re in his head all the time, in every emotion he feels.

He thinks he’s here for you, that he was brought back from the dead because of you. You can’t possibly understand how much his heart is full of you, he doesn’t understand it himself.

He knows you love him, he’s gotten that through his head. But he can’t get a grasp on the idea that he’s equally matched in the who loves who the most battle.

Do you really care that much about him to go out of your way to keep track of things that might startle him? He knows there’s a million things about you that are in the back of his mind at any given time, but surely you don’t operate that same way with him?

Do you?

There’s this burning in his heart that aches and it only gets stronger when he sees you looking at him like that. So genuine. With care, with love.

He squeezes your hand, “I love you. More than anything.”

The look on your face sinks back into that sweet, adorable look that he’s so used to and it makes him want to scream.

You smile that bright smile and it sends his heart rocketing into oblivion. “I love you.” You squeeze his hand back, “More than everything.”

He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.