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princesssmars · 2 months ago

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better leave your man at home!

mini stories of vi, sevika, abby, and ellie showing you your true worth.

wc : 7.306

contains : sfw and nsfw. fxf. fem!reader. cheating on the men's part until ellie's part lol. ellie’s is a modern!au the rest are in canon. mentions of violence and alcohol. silco but he's chill. owen but he's not chill. reader can be interpreted as bi or comphet i think!

a/n : ladies if you're reading this...cheat on him. or cheat back. yknow what just leave him.

VIOLET ꨄ

ʚɞ ever since getting out of prison and restarting her life, vi had been looking for a new purpose.

ʚɞ she had found a solid job, managed to reconnect with wither last siblings left alive, and started to build up a life for herself, but still, she felt...aimless. she longed for a deeper connection than the ones she had, someone she could yet again.

ʚɞ and then she meets you, a sweet little store owner with a voice that sounds like a symphony and an attitude as sweet as cookies. the first time she even met you she bumped into you on the street outside your bakery, knocking you supplies for your treats all over the ground. she's expecting that usual zaunite 'watch where you're going!' but instead you tell her not to worry, that you were carrying too many things anyway.

ʚɞ it was almost instinct for her to assure you she was at fault, downright demanding she help you carry everything that dropped inside and that it was the least she could do. you call her a sweetheart and tell her if she does you'll send her home with a plate of her favorite dessert. how could she say no?

ʚɞ she cant help but to quickly hang out with you whenever she can. after her shifts she stops by to help you close up, telling you its the least she could do for someone who was oh-so sweet. you seem to welcome her affections, whispering one late night when making some extra batter that you always appreciate when she stops by. she goes home on a high that night.

ʚɞ but then the worst thing ever happens. you get a boyfriend.

ʚɞ apparently he's some old family friend who moved back to the city when he found a small fortune overseas and was ready to come back to 'win you over like he tried years ago'. you told the story with a slightly wistful voice but all vi could do was nod along with wide eyes and a shut mouth.

ʚɞ eventually, she meets the guy, a tall and rather weasly looking guy who was waiting impatiently outside the store. she gave him a simple greeting and all he could do was tilt his head in recognition that she was there, apparently. she passed him and went to the back of the store and asked you what he was doing standing outside looking all suspicious. her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when you told her he was waiting to take you out but had to stand outside because he couldn't stand the smell of bread.

ʚɞ yeah, this definitely wasn't gonna last long. she’d just have to get you to see that.

ʚɞ sadly, she didn't have to do much work. ton a sunny day when the two of you were walking through the upper city levels together you stopped in your tracks, a talking vi whose arm was wrapped with yours questioning what made you stop before following your eyesight to see your boyfriend in the arms of another woman, way too close for comfort. vi wanted nothing more in that moment than to go and knock the bastard's lights out, but she had to prioritize you first.

ʚɞ you go into a depression for a week, your shop closed and your apartment locked as you skulk and cry in your home. but thankfully you gave vi a key not too long into your friendship, and she wakes you up one afternoon and demands you go and clean yourself up while she takes care of your chores.

ʚɞ you come out of the shower feeling rejuvenated and refreshed, your mood only lifting higher at the smell of cookies in the air. you pad out to the kitchen and cant help but smile when you see vi standing with a tray of perfectly made chocolate chip cookies on the island counter.

ʚɞ you sit up on your counter and moan at the taste of the cookies, vi accepting your praise of her baking skills with pride as she rubs over your bare thighs. eventually the topic steers to your recent heartbreak and vi makes sure you can complain and vent to her all you want.

ʚɞ but the last thing she wants to hear is you blaming yourself, teary-eyed and mumbling about how maybe you were too overbearing in your affections. she gently but sternly brings your attention to her, making sure you look her in the eyes when she goes on about how you’re the nicest and most soft-natured person she’s ever known and he was a fool to not see what an amazing woman he had in front of him.

ʚɞ and you cant help but feel even worse at the clear effect her affection has on you, unconsciously biting her lip at her praise and closeness. her eyes dart down to your lips and back to your eyes, slowly inching her head forward for permission. as soon as you slightly nod your head she’s kissing you with months of pent-up adoration, warmth, and lust.

ʚɞ a small part of you feels guilty for moving on to your close friend only a week after you broke up with your boyfriend, but when her fingers are drifting down to your cunt and making you cry as you cum over and over again, you can't find it in you to care.

ʚɞ “he was an idiot to give up on someone as sweet as you. but down worry muffin, i’m not gonna take that chance.”

SEVIKA ꨄ

ʚɞ sevika had made a promise to herself years ago: don't mess with married women.

ʚɞ she could give herself some grace, she was young and dumb, and the woman was incredibly gorgeous. and when a woman with legs that could bring any person woman or man to their knees comes up to you and asks you your plans for the night, you cant exactly pass up the opportunity. though she wishes she did after her partner caught them together in bed and she got in one of the worst fights of her life.

ʚɞ but she had to admit things in her life were getting a bit…stale, to say the least. her schedule was a steady routine of doing tasks for silco, reeling in jinx, and keeping the last drop working like a well-oiled machine. she didn't want anything drastic that would screw up their plans to happen, just…something.

ʚɞ and oh, does she get it. some out of towner got too rowdy in the bar and started a bar fight and before she could come in and get things under control theirams leg gets broken. so now she’s tasked with finding a good enough replacement to cover him for the few months it gets healed since he for some reason couldn't just take a shimmer dose and get back on his feet in no time.

ʚɞ she goes through dozens of recruits, all either too disobedient or downright atrocious behind a bar. she’s just about to give up and force one of the goons to do it when you come through the door. you’re rather unassuming, and at first she things you’re joking until you travel behind the bar and instruct her to give you any drink and you can make it. after ten different drinks she’s more than convinced.

ʚɞ she doesn't talk to you much at first, you’re just another cog in the machine that keeps the enterprise running smoothly. obviously she’s noticed that you’re attractive, surrounded by a stern but easy-going aura that makes most customers sit and want to talk to you for hours on end. it amused her when she watched how you convinced three different patrons to buy some more drinks so you’d continue telling them a wild story of some adventure you apparently had in bilgewater years back.

ʚɞ she can't help but ask you if its true later when the bar is closing and you’re wiping everything down, rolling her eyes when you call her out for listening to your conversations. you reveal that all your stories of adventure and excitement are true, but that you gave that life up when you decided to settle down after you get married.

ʚɞ she scoffs that the woman you married must be a hell of a catch to get you to leave behind such an exciting life, and she sees your eyes drop when you reveal that life with your husband is a nice and quiet alternative to your days of danger. sevika’s always had a good poker face, and she’s really glad she has it now after hearing you gave up all of that for a guy. and that her gaydar was apparently wrong, which never happens.

ʚɞ but its almost like this is the challenge her mind has been looking for, because after that conversation she keeps having late-night talks with you when no one else is around. you’re disarmingly easy to talk to, able to show a compassion and understanding that isn’t common for the folks down here. its only a few hours after she gets a bit too tipsy and accidentally lets slip a story about her upbringing that she lays in bed and slaps her human hand to her forehead in frustration when instead of being embarrassed all she can think about is your soft hand gently rubbing her shoulder as she poured her heart out.

ʚɞ she is so screwed.

ʚɞ eventually, you draw silco’s attention. mostly because the profits from the bar have nearly doubled since you started working, partly because he can tell a certain someone is distracting sevika. he gave her a list of tasks one day that he could tell she hated doing and she went off with a nod and without a word, and she either had a new woman in her life or she was about to snap. he made sure to find out about you a few minutes later, and asked/demanded to know more about your life. in particular, any outside connections you had.

ʚɞ sevika doesn't know whether she wants to thank silco or kill him when you’re given a more permanent position at the bar and finally introduce the crew to your husband, a man who silco has apparently given a job in his booking department. when sevika pulls him aside later to ask why he would od something like that, he just. shrugs. silco never just shrugs.

ʚɞ now that you’ve basically part of their little crime family it's even easier for sevika to spend more time with you. unfortunately for you jinx has taken a liking to you, but you handle it well and always make sure to give the girl her favorite drink in her favorite cup whenever she stops in the bar to babble on about some new weapon of mayhem she’s decided to make.

ʚɞ but after a few weeks she notices your mood start to sour, how you start getting snippy with some of the more rowdy drunks who stumble through the bar. she catches you a few hours after closing sat behind the bar with a half drunken bottle in your hand and mascara running down your cheeks. normally if this was anyone else she’d scoff to herself and quickly make her exit but instead she plops herself down next to you and demands you tell her what's wrong. through hiccups and tears, you tell her that you’re pretty sure your husband is lying to you. about a lot. in particular about where he spends his nights and comes back grumbling about ‘unfair bets’ and losing cash.

ʚɞ sevika assures you she’ll get to the bottom of it, and it only takes her a few hours of trailing thee guy to find out the problem. it seems your betrothed has been gambling your money away in seedy gambling circles, with some guys she swore she told to cut it out months ago when it came to rigging their dice when playing with tourists. but the amounts he’s using are definitely more than what either of you are making on a salary.

ʚɞ she tries not to smile when she picks the excuse of a man up by the back of his neck with her mech hand, reveling in the horrified look on his face as he makes up excuse after excuse for why he’s been stealing money from you and the boss, that he swears he’ll make it back up to silco-

ʚɞ you come in the next day as confused as ever, whispering that your husband packed up his things in the middle of the night and disappeared. sevika sits you down and explains that your husband was a thief, stealing hundreds from silco rather sloppily under his nose, and was dealt with in a timely manner. but she assures you that you won't be affected by any debts he may have had, she’ll make sure of it and make sure none of those gamblers come after you.

ʚɞ you only grow closer and closer after that night, and its no surprise you start to catch feelings for the gorgeous woman who constantly makes sure you’re safe and protected. its on one of the bars rather more exciting nights that you relent and play a drinking game with some members of the crew, and in a moment of weakness accidentally admit that since your husband left you haven't been laid in weeks, and in an additional moment of weakness admit that the first person you’d like to rock your world would be none other than silco’s second hand.

ʚɞ it was just your luck that the woman was walking by when the words left your lips, and fueled by her own dose of liquid courage came up behind you and whispered that she was free at that moment.

ʚɞ you expected many things when you settled down in zaun, and getting bent in half for hours on end by the second in command to the rule of the underground was not one of them. but when sevika groans in your ear and moans about how you have the tightest pussy she’s ever had the pleasure of taking, you’re really glad it happened to you.

ʚɞ “god, i’m really not gonna be able to stay away from you now. promise that the next time you get married you’re not gonna have to worry about being disappointed ever again.”

ʚɞ (when sevika walks in the next morning with a rare smile on her face silco does admit that he hired your husband knowing he’d be an idiot that she’d have to get rid of. you’re welcome.)

ABBY ꨄ

ʚɞ abby never saw herself as a jealous person. she’d only been in one relationship before, and even though it ended rather sourly she knew it was only natural that they’d both eventually move on. but when she sees you, a new wlf recruit walking and smiling side by side with owen, she feels…weird. really weird.

ʚɞ she does feel bad that as soon as he introduces you all to the group at a small party thrown by some of the soldiers all she can manage is tight-lipped smile and a small wave. you visibly deflate and smile it off, immediately pulled away by nora and leah to grab some drinks. manny butts her shoulder with his, giving her that ‘what the hell?’ look he loves to do. she defensively apologizes, because how should she react? her ex-boyfriend clearly has a thing for you, is she supposed to be all buddy buddy with you?

ʚɞ it doesn't help that its clear to everyone that you’re pretty. like, weirdly pretty for someone in the middle of an apocalyptic setting. crystal clear skin, smooth lips, and eyes of a beautiful shade. she caught herself staring once in the gym as you laughed with one of the trainers and had to quickly get herself together.

ʚɞ isaac must be playing a sick game because you then get assigned to go with her on patrol. she initially resented, questioning why you were tagging along when you mostly worked with the medics and mel was already trailing along. he said that apparently you had asked for the chance to get some more field practice and left it at that, dismissing her with a wave.

ʚɞ she was quiet for most of the ride to the patrol spot, hands tight on the steering wheel as you sat in the back of the truck with the others in the group and laughed at some story one the guys was talking about.

ʚɞ god, even your laugh is cute, she thinks as she carefully maneuvers the truck around a downed tree. youre like if a dream girl was placed down in this wasteland to torture her, a giant sign to tell her of course owen went after you, you were perfect. more perfect than she could be.

ʚɞ it isnt helpful that shes left partnered with you as you clear out the abandoned store in the strip mall they've all been sent to check and re-clear the spaces if necessary. she finds herself frustrated when you very reasonably and very smartly stick to her side the whole time. she swears she almost trips over an overgrown branch when she catches a whiff of your soap and she doesnt know where the hell you managed to snag vanilla flavored anything.

ʚɞ everything is fine for a while. you both remain vigilant as you walk through the barely lit aisles of the department store, the only action when a clicker jumps up out of nowhere and nearly tackled you before she’s roughly pushing you out of the way and kicking out its knees before bashing in its head with her boot. she’s panting and catching her breath before roughly asking if you were alright and reminding you to stay vigilant, taking your wide eyed stare for shock at a close encounter to what would be a rather painful death.

ʚɞ but despite her rather abrasive attitude you try your best to be friendly with her. you reveal that owen did confide about their past relationship, and as awkward as the situation sometimes was you wouldn’t let it drive a wedge between you, that you in fact wanted to be friends with abby. you had heard a great many things about her, how she was a loyal friend, a courageous leader, clearly an incredibly strong soldier-

ʚɞ her brain. short circuits a bit. the way you called her strong, like it was fact that was so obvious that she’d already proven it to you just by being out here. sure she’d pushed you of out the trajectory of that clicker but that was normal, anyone should and would do the same. she realizes you wouldn’t get the chance to see any displays of strength like that back in the base save for the visits to the gym, and a foreign voice in her head laments what a shame that is.

ʚɞ she doesn’t realize until a day later just how screwed she is.

ʚɞ whatever weird…feelings she has for you don’t even get a chance to go away or settle, just fester and multiply with your constant presence. where abby is her friends are close by, and that now includes you. at small get togethers, shared gym workouts, breakfast lunch and dinner hangouts, you’re always there with a bright smile and a warm greeting for her. she thinks she’s hiding whatever it is she’s hiding pretty well until nora pulls her to the side and asks why she just keeps staring at you whenever you’re around, that she understand there might be some lingering feelings of jealousy and resentment towards owen but that’s no reason to treat you rudely.

ʚɞ abby stumbles over her words, insisting that she’s not treating you rudely, that’s the last thing she would want to do. who would ever do that to someone as nice and sweet and gorgeous as you? she ends her mini explanation with a stiff chuckle and looks at nora who’s now staring at her with an open mouth and a flabbergasted look on her face.

ʚɞ so it’s clear that abby likes you. she doesn’t know how to grapple with the fact, and decides its best to just deal with it privately and wait for it to just pass as most things do. the only person who knows is nora, who after not talking to her for a few hours after their last encounter came back to abby’s room to apologize for walking out on her in a moment where they so clearly needed to talk more about what was just revealed. she assures abby that she’ll help her through this but it’s very confusing to herself as well. it’s not every day you have to deal with your best friend falling in love with her boyfriends new girlfriend.

ʚɞ she doesn’t agree with abby’s method, frequently telling her that dealing with this in private will only have the opposite effect. and just like normally she’s right, abby’s increased attempt at distance from you only peaks your worry and drives you to constantly check in on her to make sure she’s okay. one day you come by her room after one of your workouts, and the sight of you covered in a thin sheen of sweat in shorts and a tank asking her sweetly if she’s feeling okay and if she’d like to join you for lunch let’s her know for sure that she really can’t do this for much longer.

ʚɞ so she’s tries her best to try a different approach : exposure therapy. as bad as it sounds, she’s sure once she starts spending more time with you she’ll realize you aren’t some mythical girl of of her dreams and are just a normal person who’s dating her ex and who she can totally just be normal friends with. she comes up to you in the halls a few days later and asks if you’d like her to help you train for more field work and you beam up at her before wrapping your arms around her neck and thanking her a multitude of times before composing yourself. you go one about how you were so eager to prove yourself and you’d do no better than to have the abby anderson teaching you the basics. she zoned out as soon as she felt your skin against the back of her neck, nodding along to all of your words with a doe-eyed blank look.

ʚɞ it’s really nice bonding with you over the course of a few short weeks. you quickly pick up on the things she teaches you, and whatever you don’t she’s more than eager to help you learn. she hates to admit it but her conscious cheered a little bit when you told her you needed help aiming one of the bigger rifles, and it nearly screamed when she got to place herself behind you and helped you aim at the target practice. maybe she’s a bit delusional at this point but she swears she felt your body relax into hers, felt your breath stutter just a bit when her chest met your back.

ʚɞ and she knows it’s serious when she trusts you enough to share her space in the library. it’s a night when manny has a girl over so she’s in her usual cozy spot surrounded by the book shelves when she shears your gentle footsteps and call of her name, remarking that you initially went to the room out of loneliness about owen being gone for the night but came here when a breathless and shirtless manny told you her usual sleepover spot. she invites you to settle in with her in her heap of old blankets surrounded by dusty novels, trying her best to remain calm when you lean your head on her shoulders and insisted she keep reading her current book aloud.

ʚɞ she wakes up to the early morning light with her head rested on top of yours, snuggled up to battle the chill of the stadium air and your hand clamped around her arm. when she looks down at your face and wishes she could see you like this every day she realizes that she is really, really screwed.

ʚɞ luckily she doesn’t have to wait long to see you like that again. well, the circumstances are rather horrid. yet another soldier was having small secret party ok one of the larger stadium dorms and you were glued to abby’s side. everyone besides nora was confused but happy that the two of you seemed to be getting along so well, and nora herself kept giving abby looks that were a mixture between pity, worry, and just a bit of ‘you need to just get this off of your chest to anyone else but me’ annoyance.

ʚɞ abby was your designated drink manager, constantly making sure you weren’t too drunk and were drinking enough water to stave off any of the negative effects of the smuggled in alcohol they brought in for the party. you’re both sitting on one of the couches and observing the party when you make an off handed comment about not seeing owen for a while and abby decides to sit you down snuggly on the couch while she goes to look for him to appease your tipsy haze. her search leads her down the hallway, and it’s only when she hears an object drop in a nearby maintenance closet does she find out the truth.

ʚɞ she whips open the door to see owen and mel in a rather…well, let’s just say a really lewd position. in the midst of being disgusted and infuriated she finds a bit of amusement at mousy mel of all people doing a drunken hookup in a dingy closet. owen hurriedly tries to fix himself and his pants, insisting to abby that it’s not what it looks like, and suddenly his eyes lock on an object behind her and she turns around to see you, teary eyed and clearly betrayed before you silently stoop off to the direction of your own room.

ʚɞ abby is normally a calm person. as a soldier she isn’t afforded the luxury to let her emotions get the better of her in moments of stress. but seeing you with tears in your eyes and a wobbly lip makes her wish she broke owen’s nose on the spot. collecting all of her composure, she slaws the closet door in his face and quickly runs after you.

ʚɞ she quickly chases after you, making her way down the stadium halls until she finds your bedroom door agape, quickly knocking and entering when she hears your quiet cry demanding owen leave. she makes sure to announce who she is once she settles in beside you on your bed, gently extending her hands to make sure shes allowed to physically comfort you before pulling you into a tight hug once you let her know it’s okay.

ʚɞ she had again struggles to keep her composure when you cry into her shoulder, not minding the tears staining her t-shirt when she hears you weep about what a fool you wer, how you were such an idiot to believe that someone like him could truly care about you.

ʚɞ in the morning, she can blame the weeks of pent up feelings, or maybe the cup of beer she had an hour before, but she can’t stop herself from grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards her, commanding your attention before she reveals that should’ve warned you about owen earlier, that she should’ve known he would take advantage of someone with as sweet a nature as you. She’s always known he was a fool, but to ruin his chances of someone like you is the dumbest thing he ever could’ve done.

ʚɞ when you sniffle and look up at her with those shiny eyes and puffy lips and ask her if that’s true she feels her composed facade slipping, hands shaky as she reaches up to wipe your tears away before letting her palm letting her fingers trail down your face, biting her lip when she sees your eyelids flutter closer when her hands start to ghost down your neck.

ʚɞ she doesn’t feel sorry when she watches you take off your top, doesn’t feel guilt when she pushes you down to the bed and lets her lips bite and kiss from your neck to her chest and draw out all manners of whines and gasps from your throat. and when she feels your hips lift up and grind into her crotch, when her hands attach themselves to your hips and forces you to bring yourself to an orgasm in your pants, she doesn’t give a shit how it’ll seem when she parades you around the stadium tomorrow.

ʚɞ manny and nora are open mouthed and shocked when you walk hand in hand into the cafeteria the next morning, both starry eyed and covered in love bites as you sit together nearly attached at the hip. when owen walks in a few minutes later and quickly storms out after seeing the two of you, abby can’t help but shrug when manny asked her what the hell is going on.

ʚɞ “owen had his chance, and he should learn that jealously is a monster.”

ELLIE ꨄ

ʚɞ in moments like these ellie remembers laughing at how her fellow lesbians would fall for their straight friends in middle and high school and end up with broken hearts and broken friendships. and now as she sits across from you and listens to you lament about your boyfriend, she realizes that karma is real and she is totally a bitch.

ʚɞ truly, she has no one to blame, but herself the moment she saw you walk into the record store she worked at she knew that this would only lead to trouble for herself. It was obvious to Dina, who lightly pushed his shoulder and told her to stop drooling and to focus on her work and not fall into another relationship so soon after her catastrophic breakup with cat. she had rolled her eyes at the brunette and assured her nothing would happen, that she’d politely introduce herself, help you buy a product, and never think about or see you again.

ʚɞ god, what an idiot she was.

ʚɞ as soon as she introduced herself, you complemented her tattoo, mention that you had wanted one but were too indecisive about a design and placement. before she can even think of what she wants to say she’s telling you that wouldn’t mind hooking you up with her tattoo artist who could help you decide what you wanted. hell, she wouldn’t mind helping you decide what kind of vibe you were going for when it came to the body art and where exactly on your body would be best to showcase it.

ʚɞ you’re beaming up at her and thanking her, telling her that she really is just too kind. she’s even kinder when she continues to talk to you as she helps you look through the store, helping you decide which record would be best for your collection.

ʚɞ and helping you pick out another record as a gift. for your boyfriend. she can hear dina snicker at the counter all the way from three aisles away, passing it off as allergies when you turn to look at her.

ʚɞ but it’s not like she’s gonna fall for you. she gives you her number, but that’s because she already promised she’d help you with the tattoo stuff. and sure she talks with you for hours the following week and even goes with you to the parlor for moral support, but that’s because she’s a good person! and you even told her she’s a great friend for helping you with this! she’s just being friendly.

ʚɞ soon enough she basically becomes your new best friend. she doesn’t know how it happened really, somewhere between helping you when your car broke down in the middle of the road and having dinner with your parents when they demand to meet the person who’s been taking up an extra chunk of their daughters time. it’s frightening how easy it is to just be with you, to talk to you about any and everything. she remembers it took dina pestering her at work for weeks for them to become friends, and here she is laughing with your dad over roasted chicken after a month.

ʚɞ dina and jesse call her delusional. when the former shows the latter a picture of you on the instagram account you have to ellie he folds over in laughter and tells ellie oh so eloquently that she’s definitely going to fall for you, it’s only inevitable. but she remains vigilant that she wouldn’t do something so dumb. i mean yeah you’re basically exactly her type, like a deity went into one of her wet dreams and plucked the woman she manifested and placed you in the real world, but she was strong. there were plenty of fish in the sea. plenty of gay fish, to be exact.

ʚɞ she tries to go on dates, scrolls through tinder and likes every other attractive viable woman she sees. she even manages to have a few hookups. its really just a coincidence that they have some of your similar characteristics, truly. she’s not actually looking for you in any of these girls, that’d just be weird.

ʚɞ but then it happens. she has a girl over, her leg thrown over her shoulder as she grinds herself into the pretty girl’s cunt. she’s lost in a high after the blunt they’d shared earlier and her heads thrown back as she’s letting out expletive after expletive, and then she does it. she moans your name. she pauses, the girl pauses, and its silent as they remove their entangled limbs from each other and rigidly lay in bed side by side. it hurts even worse than the embarrassment when the girl pats her shoulder with a smile after she’s put her clothes back on, wishing her luck with whatever’s goin on between the two of you.

ʚɞ there’s no point in denying it then. she doesn't even get the chance to keep it to herself, the next day when she’s watching a movie on your couch you poke and prod at her until she reveals what’s got her in such a sour mood. she doesn't tell you the full story, of course, just that something absolutely mortifying happened last night when she was riding some girl. she groans that she didn't even get to finish and that was way worse then what she said, hoping the joke will ease some of the embarrassment she has telling the story and the guilt about passively lying to you.

ʚɞ she doesn't notice how you hips shift in your seat, how your teeth bite at the skin of your lip. she does notice when you question what she meant by riding a girl. she cant help but think about how adorable you are before explaining the position in the nicest way possible. you hum and turn your attention back to the movie and she thinks that's the end of the conversation. but only seconds later you’re asking her to show you.

ʚɞ she thinks she's dreaming. no, she knows she's dreaming. its happened before, weird dreams she has after a strong high where she swears her dreams become all the more vivid and lifelike. it was super annoying the second time it happened, she woke up to a world where she in fact did not win the lottery and get to make out with her celebrity crush. but this is just cruel, she didn't know her brain could be so masochistic. but no, the feel of your hand shaking her shoulder and shyly asking if you’ve made her uncomfortable is real, your big eyes flitting to anywhere but hers is real.

ʚɞ she stutters over her words, asking if you really mean it. and you say yeah, you’d been curious about this anyway. it wouldn't hurt to do it with ellie, you were friends, right? and god what an idiot she was because she’s nodding along like of course, this couldn’t make your friendship weird at all, right? so she gets to work, not doing anything too lewd except for gently pushing you to lie on your back as she maneuvers her body over yours, placing her crotch over yours until she can feel the heat of you through her jeans. she tries not to show a reaction to the sight of you looking up at her, curious and flushed as your hand briefly comes up to rest on her hip. its only when your hips delicately press up into hers that she abruptly removes herself from on top of you, stiffly chuckling before recommending you get back to the movie.

ʚɞ neither of you bring it up again.

ʚɞ it’s so much more difficult to be around you now. before she was resolute in the fact that she was alone in whatever weird feelings she had towards you, but eventually she might move on. but with only a few actions you threw that whole viewpoint out the window. now it was clear that you were interested. maybe not in ellie but in sex with another woman. a small part of her is upset at the fact it might not be her. its only cliche that if you started having these feelings you’d fall for your gay best friend, who the hell else were you thinking about? whatever, that wasn't important.

ʚɞ what was important was what occurred over the next few weeks. it happens slowly but surely, your complaints about your intimate troubles with your boyfriend. now ellie had met the guy before, and it made her feel slightly better that she had a valid reason right from the start not to like him. the man was clearly an ass, looking her up and down the first time they met and giving her a ‘yeah you’re weird’ look that he apparently didn’t think she’d recognize. luckily she didn’t have to see him often, only seeing him in passing when she spent time with you at yours or picked you up to go hang out.

ʚɞ but now his weirdness is apparently front and center. she nearly chokes on her chipotle when you tell her that he questioned why the two of you were spending so much time together, feeling like ellie was going to make a move on you.

ʚɞ and yeah, it was offensive. just because she was a lesbian didn’t mean she wanted to jump the bones of every woman she met. unfortunately that didn’t apply here because she very much did want to jump your bones. not like he knew that. hopefully.

ʚɞ but she doesn’t want to get in the way of your relationship, begrudgingly recommending that maybe the two of you should spend some time apart so he can chill out and realize he’s being paranoid. she’s very happy to hear your quick rebuttal, remarking how you’d rather dump him then spend any more time away from her.

ʚɞ god you are making this so confusing. and it only reaches a head the next time she sees you. you’d texted her to ask if she could come over late at night and obviously she said she would, along with a bag of your favorite drinks and snacks just in case you got peckish. so she’s sitting on the couch as you both eat some shareable m&ms when the topic becomes a bit more…intimate.

ʚɞ she notices your rigid shoulders as you sit stark straight on the couch and laughs about how pent up you must be. your following laugh is awkward as you agree that you have been a bit stressed lately. so she tells a joke, that your boyfriend isn’t up to par in bed. she expects you to laugh and hit her shoulder but you nod your head.

ʚɞ you…nod your head. and then you turn to her, and she’s getting flashbacks to the last time you were this close on your couch. her face is hot as whisper that the past few times you’ve tried to sleep with your boyfriend he, as you eloquently put it, ‘just pumps and dumps’, and brushes you off whenever you bring up the fact that you haven’t had a release. that as much as it ashamed you to say it, once he falls asleep next to you you sometimes find your hand trailing under your shorts and thinking back to her stories of the hookups she told you about, wishing she could show you how all of that felt.

ʚɞ ellie has always liked your bedroom. its soft and sweet, with vines of fake ivy hanging across the ceiling and a large canopy hanging over the bed. you even have an adorable collection of stuffed animals, a few of them gifted to you by her throughout the months of your friendship. all of the little guys have been shoved to the floor now, and for a fleeting moment she things they’re really just going to have to understand before her mind is consumed again with you, how you’re pretty flushed face is staring and moaning up at her as her wrist nearly cramps with how fast her fingers are pistoning into your wet cunt.

ʚɞ you haven’t even touched her and she’s already on cloud nine. your confession nearly made her pass out, and she swore she had died and gone to heaven when you asked her to help you with your problem and grabbed her hand to lead her to your bed. it was like her horniest dream come true to see you undress, to feel over your skin, to lower her head to your pussy and try her best to suck out your soul in the most loving way possible.

ʚɞ she feels her boxers get soaked when you cum around her fingers again, legs wrapping around her waist and head raising to muffle your sounds in her shoulder. she swore she nearly came when you bit into her shoulders, already knowing she was going to look into the mirror later to look at the mark your teeth left on her with a smile. but she didn’t predict for you to be so insatiable, for as soon as she pulls her fingers out of your cunt you’re whining and grinding your hips up into hers, whispering little *‘please, el, need more’*s

ʚɞ “don’t worry, baby, i’ll give you whatever you want. swear once i’m done you’re never even gonna think of that stupid boyfriend of yours again.”

2K notes · View notes

alexiroflife · 8 months ago

Text

how jjk men would react if they found out you sh…

Warning(s): cw//self harm, graphic depictions, mentions of depression, anxiety, sensitive content, angst/comfort

-> if you or anyone you know is struggling with self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression, etc., know that you aren’t alone. as someone who used to struggle with these things myself, i understand how difficult it can be, but know that you are strong and you are loved. and thank you for the ask, this is a very important topic and i appreciate the vulnerability of the request. sending all the possible love in the world to all of you.

gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna

satoru gojo: satoru has an incredible sense of sight, thanks to his gift of the six eyes, as well as very keen observation skills. he picks up on little habits you harbor very quickly during the beginning of your relationship. you always choose to wear long-sleeved clothing, even when it’s warm, and you tug at your sleeves as though you are desperately trying to conceal a certain part of yourself from the outside world, from him. he doesn’t understand why at first. the thought crosses his mind that you just aren’t comfortable in sleeveless clothing, but you’ve shown him pictures of yourself from a decade ago when you’d wear variations of different tank tops, short sleeves, and more. he doesn’t understand what changed somewhere along the line. perhaps your sense of style has shifted? maybe you don't like your arms? (he can't understand how because he finds them to be the most gorgeous arms he's ever seen).

but no, something is nagging at him in the back of his head, churning the contents of his gut as though there is something he needs to know, to see that you were hiding, and when the moment unveiled itself, he instantly saw.

you’re in your kitchen while satoru watches you from the other side of the island, leaning over and gazing at your movements with a soft smile. his blue eyes scattered across your body, admiring you while simultaneously searching for any clue, any answer to his hovering questions.

“where’d i put the containers,” you murmur to yourself in the midst of making lunch for the week, moving about your space rather slowly.

satoru offers his own help, pointing a slender finger over to the space above your head. “did you check that cabinet?” he asks.

you turn over your shoulder and quirk your brow. “oh, do you live here now? suddenly know where everything is?” you ask playfully, a small smile rising to your lips as satoru chuckles.

“not yet,” he winks. “but i sure am working on it, though. you know i have to make myself familiar with the space in case we share it someday.”

“is that so?”

“or, of that doesn't work out you could always live with me. i’d love to have you.”

“we’ve been together for three weeks, satoru.”

“yeah, but what does that matter when it comes to loveeee,” he pouts and you giggle, shaking your head as you turn back to reach for the cabinet. you stand on your tiptoes and reach out, sleeve of your sweet draping down to your elbow.

satoru is quick to his feet to help you, though you’re more than capable, when he catches the sight of what looks like a scar streaking over the inside of your wrist. his face falls and his brows angle, marching over to you quickly with a look of urgency on his face.

you don’t register how fast he is moving until you feel him behind you. you turn and look up, caught off guard by the way his eyes had hardened and his pupils shrank. your hand stalls on the cabinet handle, the scars on your arm completely slipping your mind momentarily.

“satoru? you okay?”

he doesn’t answer, grasping your wrist in his hand gently and pulling it down from above you. your eyes flicker up to the movement, and when you realize what is happening, your heart sinks. your eyes go wide and you try to tug your arm away, but satoru’s grip tightens slightly, extending your arm by your wrist to display the inside of your forearm before him.

he thinks his vision is blurring over, his heart ringing in his ears, his breaths quickening as his eyes detail over the row of rigid scars lining from your inner elbow up to your wrist. his world collapses around him, lips stretching into a disbelieving grimace as his wild eyes survey the damage. some of those scars look newer than others, scabbing over with specs of purple, while the others are far older.

you panic, trying to tug away again, but satoru’s grip on you is too secure. a lump forms in your throat as you search for things to say, anything to say that could take your boyfriend’s attention away, that could excuse the sight before him as something else. “s-satoru, wait-” you stammer, your voice weaker than you had intended it to be.

satoru looks like he can’t hear you, nose flaring as he stares, and stares, and stares, and suddenly, your vulnerability is bare naked before him, on display for him to judge, to belittle, to curl his brows at and determine as pathetic and weak. you can feel yourself about to cry already, shaken by this sudden attention.

“satoru,” you whisper, arm trembling within his grasp.

“what is this?” he breathes out so quietly, his voice betraying himself and hardly reaching over a brush through the wind. when you do not answer, those pained eyes are on you, tormented by the sight he has just witnessed. “(y/n), what is this?”

you feel small, avoiding his eyes and looking all over the floor. “i- it’s nothing,” you murmur.

“nothing?” he repeats, as though he has been burned by your response. the white haired man quickly seeks out your other wrist, reaching down to your other side as you try to turn away, but he, of course, manages to seize it and extend it like your other arm and roll up that sleeve. the same row of scars litter your beautiful skin.

satoru’s a mess, frightened, confused, devastated. this is what you had been hiding from him all this time? “this isn’t fucking nothing, (y/n), they’re all over you! what did you do?”

you still can’t respond, you can’t muster up an excuse, you can’t do anything. satoru’s concern is far too overbearing, his gaze too intense, and his hold on you too secure. it feels like he has you laid out on a slab before him, stripped of your clothes as he examines your body with contempt.

he’s disgusted. he’s ashamed, you think.

amid his grief, he catches the terrified look in your eye, your lips tugged downward as if to prevent yourself from crying. you look so scared.

how could he have not seen this sooner, that you’re hurting? that you’re hurting yourself?

“baby, what did you do?” he repeats, softer this time as he leans down to look at you, your body trembling in his hold. his thumbs graze your inflamed skin, hesitant to touch you for fear that you may break.

“please don’t,” you breathe out in a huff, voice wobbling as you scrunch your eyes closed. “please, don’t look. just forget you saw it, please.”

“forget i-?” satoru has to stop himself from lashing out poorly, from allowing his emotions to overcome him in what he understands is clearly your moment of need. “how could you ask me to do something like that? (y/n), your arms, baby!”

“satoru, please-” you shake your head. you want to shrink away, to hide, to vanish into thin air. “i don’t wanna talk about it. please.”

“(y/n),” he exhales, closing his eyes to gather himself. “(y/n),” he repeats softly, hands releasing your wrists slowly and sliding up your arms to delicately hold your shoulders. “we can’t not talk about this. you have to tell me what’s been going on. you have to, baby, you have to understand how scared I am right now. help me understand. let me help you, let me take on whatever burden you’re carrying, please, I’ll do anything as long as it means you’re not hurting yourself.”

his hands move to your neck, cupping over the skin as he ducks his head down to look at you more clearly.

“i can’t stand the thought that you’ve been- and i haven’t-” satoru was stumbling now, throat straining as the urge to cry rose. “why didn’t you come to me? i’m right here for you, (y/n), i always have been. why didn’t you tell me?”

“...it’s embarrassing,” you manage to say, your voice fragile, on the verge of breaking. you can feel your boyfriend’s eyes peering into you even with your own eyes closed. “didn’t want you to see… I didn’t wanna be a burden.”

satoru’s heart is breaking for you, hurt that you could even think of yourself as a burden to him. “have i- have i done or said anything to you to make you feel that way?” he asks genuinely, and you cringe, turning your head to the side to open your eyes.

“no, of course not.”

“then why would you think that, baby?”

you shrug helplessly, tears welling into your eyes. satoru sees you, all of you, his heart thrumming to capture the pain you feel and to lift it from your chest, to help you breathe even just a little bit. he releases a weighted sigh, one of sadness, of love, of heartache for you, and he’s pulling you into him as your arms dangle limply at your sides.

you scrunch your eyes and immediately break down into him, sobbing into his shirt as his warm hands wash over your frame and cradle your head to him, the muscles in his face tight with anguish. he holds onto you like he’s horrified that you will fade away within his arms.

“i’m just so tired, toru,” you cry into his chest, dampening the fabric of his shirt. “i’m sorry.”

satoru doesn’t respond, afraid that if he speaks, he’ll end up crying too. you’re his girl, his beautiful, loving girl, and the fact that you have done such harm to yourself is incomprehensible to him. if you love him so, how can you hate yourself enough to have done this?

“how long?” is all he can ask you, breath heaving into your hair and ear. you hesitate, for he already seems so wounded by his discovery. “tell me.”

“...two years…”

he’s crushed. how did he not see sooner? how could he have been so blind after having bragged about being able to see everything so clearly? how could he have left you like this?

he holds you tighter, digging his head into the crook of your neck and hunching over, your eyes now seeing over the curve of his broad shoulder.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes to you in turn, fingers curling into your hair as he holds your scalp. “i'm sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

you’re confused as to why he’s apologizing to you since the entire thing is your fault. satoru has a tendency to take on your emotions, piling them onto his own weight of carrying the title of the strongest. you never understood why he did so naturally and willingly, and why even now as you stood limply in his arms, he’s crying for the things you did to yourself.

he pulls away with shiny red eyes, gazing down into your shiny red eyes and tear stained cheeks. you’re so beautiful, he thinks. he hates that such beauty has been suffering in so much silence.

“(y/n), I love you more than anything in this goddamn world. please don’t- don’t keep doing this to yourself. if you’re hurting, come to me. hurt me if you have to lash out, but don’t hurt yourself beautiful.”

“i would never even think of hurting you, satoru.”

“then don’t think of doing it to yourself,” he says firmly, and you press your lips together.

“…i-i don’t know how to… to stop,” you mumble, and he’s taking your hands in his and kissing them gently.

“i’ll help you. we can get you help, baby, I promise. just promise me, please,” he begs you, holding your hands close to his heart. “you come to me when you feel like doing that, okay? you come to me. and I’ll do whatever I can. let me help you. let me be there for you. i won’t let you push me out, (y/n).”

you're crying again, tears streaking over your face as satoru’s love captures you within his words, within his warmth as he forces you to understand that you are not alone, and never will be.

satoru kisses your hands again. his lips reach your cheek, and his hand comes to tuck your head into his shoulder again, holding you and telling you that you have him to go to when your world grows dark.

geto suguru: if suguru could sum you up into one word, he would say that you're his universe.

everything in his life he does for the sake of you and his girls, for the sake of keeping you safe and making you happy. your happiness and your comfortability are the only things that suguru prioritizes above all else, making them his very goal to serve each and every day.

suguru's not the most stable, you know that and he knows that himself. he has his off days, where he falls quiet and the world around him numbs itself and the noise becomes a muffle in his ears until you step into view, giving him a smile and wrapping his big frame up in your small arms, your voice whispering to him and breaking through the fog. you're his sanctuary. you're his safe place, and he loves you so much. he owes his entire life to you, therefore ensuring that you feel just as loved as you make him feel is very important to him.

so when he catches sight of the scars on your stomach one day by accident, when you lift up mimiko to sit on your shoulder as nanako jumps up for you to pick her up to, and her shoe kicks up your shirt from your waist momentarily, suguru freezes.

are you hurt? did someone do this to you? did you do this to yourself?

countless thoughts are racing through suguru's mind as he stares at you in a daze, watching you laugh so joyfully along with the girls as though no trouble plagues you.

but there is. you've just been hiding it. hiding it far too well.

his mind is elsewhere for the rest of the day, unsure of if he had been imagining things or not. he knows you so well, or at least he thinks he does. how have you been hiding those marks littering your lower abdomen? how had he missed them?

he thinks back to the moments you two were intimate and recalls that you never wanted to remove the tanktop you wore or let him kiss further than your ribs. he recalls the days you all went to the beach and you kept a white shirt over your swimsuit or elected to wear a onepiece. he recalls how quickly you change when he's with you, your back turned to him as you rush to throw something on over your upper body.

the signs... they're all there. you've been hiding yourself from him, but why? what have you been doing? have you truly been harming yourself, or is that thought a trick of suguru's worst fears?

he tries to keep himself calm around you and the girls for the remainder of the day until they are put to sleep and the two of you are alone again.

you sit on the edge of your shared bed, rubbing lotion over your arms with your back facing suguru again. he watches you carefully, back resting against the headboards and hazel eyes trained on your figure as though you aren't real.

he waits for the proper moment, waiting for you to crawl up and curl under his side, his arm subconsciously wrapping over your waist as your head lays on his chest. he stares at the ceiling for a moment, thinking as weighty silence overcomes you, then he's cautiously speaking.

"(y/n)?"

the soft call of your name brings your head up to peer at him curiously, blinking innocently. he turns down to look at your face and his heart clenches. while he knows that he knows what he saw, he doesn't want to believe it. he doesn't want to think that you, such a selfless and caring person for him, would hurt yourself.

you hum up at him, wondering what he has called you for. you see the pensive look in his face, the subtle knit in his brow as he stares at you, gears in his head turning. "yeah sugu?" you say gently.

he doesn't want to ask, but he has to. he doesn't want the confirmation, but he needs to know.

"i want to ask you a question..." he says, and you grow slightly befuddled.

"...okay?" you start. "is it serious?"

"yeah, it is," he admits, and you suddenly grow nervous, immediately catching an idea of what this could be about. you don't like the look on his face, the way he appears so serious.

"...alright," you mumble, suddenly meek.

the black haired man stares for a few more moments, just looking at you, taking in your the features he feel so deeply in love with, the features that bring him comfort and peace. "i saw something earlier, when you were holding mimiko," he begins softly, thumb caressing your back to ease you into the conversation.

you feel your heart jolt anxiously, trying to keep a straight face so as to not give your nerves away, but knowing suguru, he could likely already tell that you're getting antsy.

you lift your head to look at him, hand resting over his chest, and his eyes follow you smoothly. his eyes are focused, lips in a firm line.

"your shirt lifted, and i saw your stomach. i saw some marks. a lot of them, actually," he says, and you still completely, like a deer caught in headlights. his hand presses gently into your back, trying to keep you present with him as his concerns grow worse when he sees you stiffen against him. he frowns, denial still taking hold of him. "(y/n), please tell me those aren't what i think they are," he sighs heavily.

you feel caught.

you knew that suguru would find out at some point or another, but that didn't make this moment any less horrifying for you. it's so quiet in your room, so isolating, no background noise of the girls giggling or the distant buzz of the tv to help weaken the intensity of this point in time. you feel like a spotlight is shining overhead, an audience awaiting eagerly for you to reveal your secrets to the crowd.

suguru sits up slightly, his calmness gradually shifting into terrified incredulity. your eyes are on his face but your gaze is elsewhere, far off. you look uncomfortable, stuck, and no explanation hits suguru's ears.

"(y/n)," he says your name again, looking desperately down at you. "tell me i'm wrong."

you wish you could, you really do, but you can't lie to suguru. he knows you too well, he loves you too much, and to lie to him would be like denying his understanding of who you are.

you feel your skin flush with shame and anxiety, heartbeat likely loud enough for your boyfriend to hear.

you worry. you worry about your boyfriend's judgment, for his reaction. is he going to be angry with you?

"hey," he snaps you out of your daze with the drag of your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes as he stares at you helplessly. you look at him and frown, ashamed that you are the reason he looks so pained. "what's going on?"

the question comes out so delicately, it makes your heart break. a whisp of understanding blends into his tone with empathy, yet a crushing sense of sadness and guilt that overpowers the aforementioned emotions. you struggle to look him in his kind eyes, dreading his consolation that you feel you don't deserve.

"talk to me, (y/n)."

you chew angrily on the inside of your lip, looking down at your finger as you pick at his shirt. he watches your brows furl, an array of different feelings capturing your features. "i was gonna tell you about it..." you murmur, and suguru is floored.

"what?" he breathes out as though he has no more air. you wince, lowering your head. "you-" he pauses, mind jumping from one place to another. "you did that to yourself?"

"i'm sorry, i-" you can feel your throat growing tight. "i've been trying to-"

"to stop?" he tries to finish for you, grasping for any kind of explanation. he's devastated, not only because you've been harming yourself, but because you've been so busy looking after him and the girls that he hasn't noticed. you're the one who always comforts him, but while you've been doing that, you've been aching on the inside and trying to hide it.

you nod meekly when he concludes for you. "i just- i thought the feelings would go away, so i didn't say anything, but they're just getting worse and i don't know what to do anymore and i only feel better after i..."

"(y/n)," he stops you gently, his heart shattering upon listening to you ramble, spilling out the things you have been holding onto for what he assumes to have been so long. "you've been dealing with this all this time?"

"...it's on and off," you confess. "some days are better than others, but..."

suguru finds your words familiar, for he often finds himself in the exact same mindset; feeling functional and confident some days, and others, not so much, but you're the reason why he's able to handle his bad days, yet he hasn't been the same for you for as long as the two of you have been together.

he feels almost sick. he loves you to death. you're his everything, but you've been in pain, and he hasn't seen it.

the way he's looking at you now makes you feel guilty, remorseful, embarrassed. you know you should have told him, but you could never find the strength to. you had always been too scared. and the longer you self-harm, the less you are willing to admit to yourself and to your boyfriend that you have a problem.

you're shocked, though, when suguru's hands tighten over you and his face grows bitter, not with you but with himself. "how could i have been so stupid?" he grumbles, distraught. "and so selfish? all this time, you-"

"no, suguru, please, it's not your fault," you try to tell him.

"i should have seen, baby, i should have noticed something sooner. and all this time, instead you've been looking after me when i should have been looking after you."

"don't say that, suguru," you shift, looking sadly into his eyes. "it's my fault. i'm the one who did this, i'm the one who's to blame. i'm the stupid and selfish one, not you."

suguru's frown deepens, sad eyes looking over your face. you blame and belittle yourself just as easily as suguru does, and he can't stand it. he can't stand to see you like this, to be so aware of hurt before him. he wants, no, he needs to take all that pain away from you. he needs to exorcize it, rid your body of it, cast it away so that you can be happy from now until the rest of time. he needs you to be okay.

"i swear on my life, (y/n)," he begins firmly, eyes boring straight into yours, holding your cheek. "i will do everything in my power to get you through this. whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes, i will be here for you. you're not alone, you understand? you don't need to pretend for me. the girls love you- god i love you so fucking much, and i can't stomach to think of the times you've suffered in silence for my sake. i'm no good if you're no good, baby. i need to know these things, i need to be able to help you."

your nose twitches and your jaw clenches as you look into him, breathing growing unstable. suguru has always been so generous and so loving. he has a way with his words and how safe they make you feel even during your worst moments.

"but what if i can't do it, sugu?" you whisper, his thumb catching the tear that leaks from the corner of your eye. "what if i'm not strong enough to get better?"

"you are strong enough," he affirms confidently. "more than strong enough. and when you feel weak, lean on me. but you have to promise me something."

you nod slowly, mutely, keeping his gaze as he stares at you lovingly, wistfully.

"promise me you won't do it," his words come out as a quick, hasty breath. his brows curl further upward, his desperation plain on his pretty face. "promise me you'll let me know as soon as you want to, but don't hurt yourself again, (y/n). don't do it. i'm begging you. you don't deserve that pain."

though you are unsure if you can even make that promise to yourself, you force yourself to try. for suguru's sake. "okay," you mumble, and he sighs, kissing you softly and pulling you to his chest to whisper sweet nothings as his hands soothe over your stomach and your back.

nanami kento: you twist your fingers around each other as you sit in the living room while kento cooks in the kitchen. you're nervous, more nervous than you have been about anything in your entire life, but you know that you need to rip off this bandaid to approach your boyfriend about such a serious matter.

recently, you find yourself returning to the old habit that you believed to have been relinquished. you thought that you had gotten better, that the urge to self harm had completely gone away after having spent so much time in therapy trying to heal, but recently, you've been feeling down again, useless, angry with yourself. you didn't want to tell nanami at first because you didn't think that your current mood would go beyond feeling depressed, but now that you've started scratching away at your thighs and your arms again, you know that you need to let him know what's going on. you know that you can't go on like this anymore.

but you have no idea what to say.

nanami has been nothing but doting toward you, bringing you flowers every morning, making your meals, ensuring that you remember to schedule doctor's appointments or to keep yourself warm when it's cold out- the man's life revolves around your comfortability, and while you know he would be far more offended if you keep this to yourself, you're horrified to see his reaction when you tell him that you relapsed.

nanami is well aware of your past difficulties with your mental health, and he always tells you that if you are ever in a dark space again, he needs to know. even so, he hasn't been with you when you're like this. the two of you got together after the multiple therapy visits that helped you to shift mindsets, so now that you feel this way again, and while in a relationship with nanami no less, you feel petrified.

you don't even notice when he rounds the kitchen counter to make his way over to the dining table, setting down two plates of food. he looks over and catches the way you stare ahead blankly, lost in thought. you've been doing a lot of that lately and he wonders if something is wrong.

nevertheless, he knows that if something is bothering you, you'll tell him. "sweetheart, dinner's ready," he calls out, and you snap your head over to him, his voice bringing you out of your daze.

you stand wordlessly, movements somewhat robotic, as you slowly make your way over to the table. "thanks, ken," you say softly, lacking your usual energy, and at this point, your partner knows for certain that something is off.

he watches you carefully as you sit down, pushing in your seat for you and pecking your forehead before sitting down next to you. "tell me how your day was," he starts, brushing off his hands and reaching one out to rest one on your knee as he always did at the table. he's prying, you can tell, trying to learn if something that happened throughout the day affected your mood.

your heart is hammering loudly, your eyes stuck to the plate and unable to look up at him. "it was okay," you respond.

"just okay?" he questions and you nod slowly. "did something happen?"

you flicker your eyes up to his brown ones suddenly, caught off guard by the question. he sees the questioning in your eyes and replies accordingly.

"you seem to be a little off, this evening, that's all."

you hum, unsure of how to respond to his observation. you look away again, contemplating. just say it, you think. just tell him, just get it over with.

as you struggle against yourself, nanami only grows more concerned. you don't confirm or deny his comment, and the way you turn away has him wondering if he's done something to hurt you.

"did i do something wrong, darling?" he asks.

you furrow your brows and quickly shut down the idea. "no, no. not at all, ken. it's nothing you did."

"then... there is something troubling you?"

you stall a bit more now that you're on the spot, cursing the fact that kento is always so quick to pick up on the smallest changes in your demeanor.

"(y/n)?" he calls you when you don't answer.

"i have to tell you something," you say abruptly. you see nanami's brows raise ever so slightly, soft brown eyes looking over your face in an attempt to read the situation before you tell him anything. "it's... a lot. so i need you to just... bear with me. and please don't be mad."

nanami's brow twitches slightly as he looks at you, head tilting. he grabs the bottom of his chair and shuffles it closer to you, leaning over slightly and running his hand over where it resides on your knee.

"i could never be mad at you," he tells you earnestly, as though it's the most honest thing he's said in the world. "what's the matter, my love?"

god, he's so sweet to you it makes you physically ill that you have to break this news to him.

"...do you remember when we talked about... um..." your voice fades off, nanami's concentrated gaze only making you more nervous for what his reaction will be.

"take your time," he encourages you, and you only feel worse.

you return to chewing on the inside of your lip anxiously, picking at your shirt under the table. the blonde man beside you is ever so patient, allowing you to gather your thoughts before you verbalize them.

"...um...it's.... about what we talked about a while ago..."

"...and that would be regarding?"

"my... past."

nanami furrows his brows, still not quite understanding. "i apologize, honey, what about your past?"

just rip the bandaid. just rip the bandaid.

"my past with self-harming," you rush out, and the weighty silence that follows is enough to make you want to sink into the floor and let it swallow you whole.

you can feel his eyes burning into you, processing what you just told him, and all you can hear is the pound of your heart in your ears as his hand stills upon your knee.

nanami, on the other hand, is completely shocked by your revelation. while he understands that your relapsing has always been a very realistic possibility, he never wanted to entertain the idea that it could very much so happen- at least, not while he's around.

a sense of fear grips him. are you going to tell him that you relapsed? have you already hurt yourself? has he failed to be there when it happened??

"did you-" he doesn't know what he wants to ask, or how. he hates that he is already jumping to conclusions, but the way you are structuring this conversation with him only leads him to believe the worst. "what happened?"

your head hangs low and your fingers taut on your shirt, lips tightening as they press together. you can hear the disbelief in his voice already, and it breaks you.

"i relapsed."

the brown-eyed man clenches his jaw, falling completely silent once more to not react in a way that may worsen your state. you feel his hand tighten into a fist over top of your leg as he lowers his head, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and inhaling sharply. you feel like a child who is awaiting punishment as you look at his hunched state, a million questions of what he will do next running through your mind.

you hate to do this to him. nanami already has so much on his plate, you know this is the last thing he needs to be stressing over. you wish you could be okay for him. it's not his fault that your mind takes you to these places, and you don't want him to bear responsibility as though it is his doing. even so, you already know that he will because that's the type of man kento is. that's the type of boyfriend kento is.

you wait a few more moments in unbearable muteness. after what feels like forever, kento lifts his head again and rests his chin on his fist, elbow propped on his knee. he's looking to the side, deep in anguished thought. he no longer looks surprised, but rather guilty and frustrated. "when?" is the first thing he asks.

"yesterday," you answer dejectedly, and he almost jerks, his body twitching in reaction. "...are you mad?"

nanami looks at you and his hardened expression immediately softens into something melancholy. "no- no, of course not, (y/n), no," he shakes his head as if the notion is unfathomable, releasing his fist to cup your knee again more securely. "i will never be angry with you for what you're going through. never. no, i'm not mad."

you nod quickly, a meek sense of relief and sorrow taking over you, a weight heaving from your chest upon letting it out. "okay," you whimper.

"come here, my darling," he coaxes you softly, opening and grabbing your hand from under the table delicately to lead you to stand over him. his hand guides over the small of you're back once you're up, leading you to sit on his lap with your back pressed against the table and your legs dangling over one side of his chair.

he holds your forearms gently, looking up at you with sad, understanding eyes. "are you comfortable showing me?" he murmurs so intimately, easing you into his warm consolation.

you don't nod or answer him verbally. instead, you wordlessly roll up the sleeve of your sweater to reveal angry red scratch lines running up your inner forearm. nanami's lips curl in pain as though he can feel the sting of your scars, holding your arm gently for him to look over it.

the sight kills him, though he tries to keep his cool. this isn't about him, it's about you, but goodness, the image of the scars on your beautiful skin makes him hurt like no other pain he's experienced.

"is this all of it?" he asks you, and you shake your head.

"there's some on my thighs," you mutter, looking down.

he nods. "alright," he sighs. "alright."

"...i know you have so much on your plate already... i just-"

"don't. don't even," he stops you, eyes still roaming over your irritated skin. nanami usually commends himself for remaining collected in times of crisis, but he's desperately fighting a part of him that wants to yell out and cry for the sake of you.

he imagines you struggling with this on your own, long before he came into your life, and the thought makes him cringe to picture just how far this must have gotten. these scratches he is surveying now already look bad enough. were the other ones worse?

"(y/n), you know this isn't okay," he looks up at your face and sees how you are avoiding his eyes. you look so small compared to how you usually carry yourself, and it kills him. "to harm yourself like this... you can't treat yourself this way, darling, you know you can't."

"i know," you mumble. "i just had a moment, and now i'm scared that- that i'll go back to how things were."

"as long as i'm with you, you won't. i promise you that," nanami swears. "it was just this one time since you last?"

you nod. "yeah..."

"okay," he nods once more, convincing himself that this is something he can help stop before it gets any more out of hand. "why'd you do it this time, my love? what were you thinking that led you here? is there something i can do differently? is it work? is it a combination of things?"

"i wish it were that easy to explain, kento," you frown, glancing up at him helplessly. "but it's just... it's just a feeling i can't put into words. i can't pinpoint the source. i just... one minute i felt like i couldn't breathe, and the next i was..."

"okay," he repeats, letting you know that you no longer need to say anything more. you don't have to revisit it. he understands. he will take care of it. he'll help you. "okay, darling. how about this. i call off of work tomorrow and we can sit and talk about seeing a new therapist. then we can go out and do whatever you want. just for fun. does that sound okay with you?"

your nose flares and your lips tug to the side as you nod, truly not comprehending how you managed to find a man so patient with you. "yeah, that's good," you say softly, and nanami is at least relieved that you are willing to take further steps into a better direction.

"good," he whispers, rolling the sleeve of your sweater back down so that you no longer feel exposed or feel like you have to think any more about the things you did to yourself when you felt alone. "it's alright, my love. we'll get through it. you'll get past this just like you did last time," he encourages you, moving to caress your shoulder lovingly as you hold his gaze. "it's okay," he tells you again, and you nod weakly, leaning over to plop your head against his shoulder.

nanami holds you to him and exhales, food completely forgotten. his only priority now is to be there for you in the ways he could not before the two of you met.

"thank you for telling me."

choso kamo: choso worships the ground you walk on because he can not fathom a world without, nor the fact that you happened to stumble into his life on a whim. to imagine you hurt is the very worst thing that the man can think of, and the notion that you would hurt yourself is beyond his comprehension.

you aren't actively trying to hide any of your scars when he finds them. the scars are old, faded reminders of the pain that you used to endure and how you attempted to cope with it. while you are now six months free of self harming, the scars remain very present.

choso happens to catch sight of your scars when you are getting changed. he's sitting at the edge of your bed, face flushed, as he watches you blissfully change out of your pajamas and into clothes that you feel are best suited for a walk to the ice cream shop that choso has proposed. it's a bright sunday afternoon, and the brunette is eager to take advantage of the weather with the woman he holds close to his heart as well as his baby brother, who the two of you intend to meet at the store.

you're now dressed in nothing but a large white shirt and underwear, your legs bare as you strut around the space freely. choso's jade eyes follow you as you walk, completely obsessed with the way you move. he could watch you do the most mundane things for hours, which he truthfully tends to do anyway.

your back is to him before you round the bed, disappearing into the bathroom momentarily before coming back into the living room. choso's eyes still don't leave you, tracing over your face down your figure and finally to the front of your bare legs.

he falters, and his brows draw together when he catches dark marks littering over your inner thighs, only revealing themselves with the movement of your limbs as you walk.

the pale-skinned man grows confused and slightly concerned. he's never seen those marks on you before, and simultaneously, never on anyone else he knows either. he finds them to be a strange form of battle scars, especially due to the placement, the small size, and the sheer number of them. some of them take different shapes too, blurring together or over each other, while some stand out alone. they almost look like burns, but it's hard for choso to really tell.

you proceed about your business, searching through your drawer to pull out a skirt, when choso speaks up.

"love? what are those?" he asks curiously, perplexed.

you turn over your shoulder, shutting your drawer closed with your foot. "hm? what's what, cho?" you ask him, unsure of what he's referring.

choso, still slightly flustered by the vision of your half exposed body, nods his head into the direction of your lower legs. "those," he says again, and you look down, still lost.

you lift your foot momentarily, checking to see if something is stuck under or on top of it. you then survey the rest of your body, searching for something out of the ordinary. "uhhh," you trail off. "i'm not sure what you mean, baby. you're talking about my legs?"

you are far too desensitized to and familiar with the image of your scars to process that choso has never seen them before. the brunette, however, is unsatisfied, wanting an answer that you have yet to provide.

he leans forward, lifting his hand and pointing his finger directly to a patch of dark spots peeking out from your inner thighs. you follow his gaze, eyes landing on the culprits, and your shoulders drop in realization. "oh," you say shortly, choso retracting his hand.

he looks at you innocently, awaiting a response while you try to figure out how to explain this sight to him.

you don't want to worry him, but knowing choso, if you lead with the fact that these scars are there because you inflicted them onto yourself, he would have a heart attack, failing to find reason to your words.

even so, you know choso only wants to understand you as much as you desire to understand him. he wants to see the ugly parts as well as the beautiful parts of you that he is so drawn to, and if you hide it from him, that would only create a rift in your budding relationship that you aren't entirely too keen on creating.

you want him to know you, all of you, and these scars are as much of a part of you as the bones in your body and the blood pumping through your skin.

they're a sign of what you've been through, what you've overcome, and who you are now. they're important, and choso should know why they are there.

"that's a good question," you sigh, putting your skirt on the bed as you move to sit next to him at the edge of it. choso immediately turns to you, glancing over the marks shamelessly now that he has a better view of them.

"did someone do that to you?" is the first thought that crosses his mind, red drifting into his vision at the mere idea that someone has hurt you in such an intimate way.

"...no," you shake your head, lifting one leg up onto the bed, brushing his own, as the other dangles. "i put them there. a while ago," you explain honestly.

choso scrunches his brows tighter, eyes flickering up to your face then back down to try to identify what exactly the marks are. "what are they?" he repeats.

you exhale, puckering your lips as you prepare yourself for this difficult conversation. "they're burns, cho. from a match," you tell him.

now, the half-curse is incredibly confused. burn marks? on your lovely skin? in a place where only you could reach? put there by yourself?

you burned yourself?

"i don't understand," he frowns, shifting to face you better. "why would you..."

"i used to be in a really bad place, baby," you purse your lips, watching as his face contorts with consternation as he comes to understand that you purposefully harmed yourself.

"what do you mean? bad enough to do this to yourself?" he sounds mortified, his voice growing ragged the moment his tone picks up volume.

his pupils, moments ago blown pools of affection, are now shrunken dots of shock.

"don't look at me like that," you beg him, placing your hand over his own. his eyes snap to the sudden contact, then back to you with concern. "sometimes, when certain people are suffering from depression, or anxiety, or just overall bad thoughts and they feel like they have to... break out, or maybe punish themselves in a sense... they resort to hurting themselves."

choso gulps, lump forming in his throat as he listens to you with shaking eyes. "and that's what you did? you felt like you needed to punish yourself?"

"it's hard to explain to someone on the outside. i know it sounds... crazy, but it was the only way i knew how to cope with everything that i was dealing with."

"why didn't you come to me instead?" he immediately asks and you give him a sad, knowing look.

"because, we didn't know each other then, cho?"

"i don't care," he shakes his head, eyes keeping yours. "you should have found me."

the idea brings a hint of a smile to your lips, choso's sweetness warming your heart. "i didn't know who you were, baby, that would have been like begging a stranger for help."

"so?" he scoffs. "i loved you the moment i met you. it wouldn't have made any difference to me.

you sigh again, bringing your other hand to rest over top of your boyfriend's as you smile softly at him in an attempt to get him to calm down.

the panic is still written all over his face as he takes in your smile, the vision somehow only making him sadder. you're so gorgeous, inside and out, and that smile is only scratching the surface of your unending beauty.

to know now that your radiance was once outweighed by the torment in your mind encouraging you to harm yourself... well, it makes choso want to ball his eyes out. it makes him want to confront the physical manifestation of your past traumas and pummel it into the ground, bashing its head in for all the hurt that it has caused you.

"i ended up just fine, cho," you reassure him.

"why didn't you say anything before? were you trying to keep it from me?"

"no, baby, i just didn't think to tell you. i kinda forgot about them," you say, and that comment alone makes choso soften his features slightly.

"you forgot..." he recites your words. "does that mean you're better now?"

you hum in affirmation, smiling warmly. "it's been a while since i've hurt myself or done anything like that. i got through it. i'm okay now, these scars are just a permanent reminder of the past."

his frame sags slightly with relief, brows lifting as he looks over you with a blank expression. "i think i understand," he mumbles, looking back down at the marks. "i'm sorry you ever had to go through any of that."

"it's not your fault. you weren't there."

"i wish i had been. so i could have helped more. i know you said you're better, but maybe if i had been there i could've stopped you from hurting yourself at all."

"i wouldn't put that responsibility onto yourself, cho. it was my responsibility."

"still," his brows arch slightly. "i would have stuck with you every second of every day to make sure that you never had a second alone to do any of it. i wouldn't have let you, and i won't let you now." a thought seems to pop into his head when he finishes his last sentence. "you wouldn't go back to trying to hurt yourself, (y/n), would you?

you exhale. "i mean, i'd like to think i wouldn't, but sometimes these things aren't linear," you admit. "i just know that for now, i'm okay."

"the second you're not, though, you'd tell me?"

"yes. i would."

"you promise?"

"i promise, baby."

"okay," he sighs. "because i don't think i'd be able to function knowing you're upset."

the brown haired man leans over, carefully holding your thigh as he looks over your marks again, no longer flustered by your bare skin but entirely focused on the severity of your burns. you look down at him, hands slipping from his own as he surveys you closely like he's a doctor.

"they don't hurt anymore, do they?"

"nope. just scarred."

choso looks at you for a bit longer in silence before looking back up at you from his hunched state. "can i kiss them?"

you laugh softly, hand falling into his hair at you gaze at him with your heart aglow. "you want to kiss them?"

he nods. "so they can feel loved."

you coo, thumb smoothing over his temple as his eyes swell with adoration right before you. "of course you can."

toji fushiguro: toji is absolutely no stranger to scars. he's a human man with no cursed energy, having had his fair share of close calls on risky jobs that have left him with slashes over his calves, small pierces in his flesh, and cracked callouses. then, of course, there's the scar on his mouth bestowed upon him by his oh-so-loving family, which will be stuck with for the rest of his life.

scars follow toji like moths follow a flame, and he's numb to it. he believes that they are a part of life, both physically and mentally, especially with the kind of life that he leads. whether the wound is a large one or a small one he can barely see, he accepts scars as a part of who he is-

who he is.

while toji likes to parade around with a hardened exterior decorated with faded, scabbing wounds, that is something he deems fit for him and him only. he doesn't care what other people do with their lives as long as they leave him the hell out of it, but for the love of all the money that he has acquired over the years slaughtering sorcerers, he will be damned if he finds a single, tiny little scratch on your body.

scars are for toji, not for you, his darling little girlfriend and the day he finds out someone has hurt you enough to leave behind a mark is the day he's putting several bullets into the culprit's head.

toji's worst fear, though he hardly discusses it, is losing you and watching you get hurt. god, he practically lives to protect you, and to feel as though he has failed to do so would wound him detrimentally. he's a tough guy, but you make him so soft, and admittedly he wouldn't want to be soft for anyone but you. you're his rock, his little hot head, and he loves you more than life itself.

if you're hurt, he will lose it.

therefore, when he finds out that you're self-harming? oh, he's on the verge of losing his fucking mind.

he does a double-take when you step out of his room and into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your body, his eyes widening and his brows arching immediately.

now, toji knows your body inside and out. he's explored every inch, he knows every crook, every crevice, every mark, every texture, and he has never once in the six months you have been together seen the red lines over your inner wrist.

he watches you with twisted lips as you grab an orange from the counter before walking back into his direction. you're almost back into the room when toji calls you.

"uh uh," he stops you, and you pause, turning over your shoulder and purposefully moving your left wrist to press into your towel.

"what?"

"come here," he orders and you give him a strange look.

"why?"

"i wanna see somethin'. come here."

you're quick to snap back easily with your own sarcastic retort, clearly in a foul mood over something. "if you want to fuck, can you wait until i'm fully dried off and after i finish this?' you hold up the orange in your other hand, a perturbed look on your face.

"i don't want to fuck, (y/n), i want you to come here."

toji's voice comes out sternly, and on the verge of anger. you survey his posture, his arms leaning over his legs as he cranes to look at you with a suspicious, firm expression. you can tell that he's serious, and a sudden sense of fear overtakes you that you mask with annoyance.

you don't say a word when you slowly walk up to him, crossing your arms over your chest to conceal your wrist, the hand holding the orange tucked under your elbow.

"what is it?"

toji holds out his palm. "give it."

"...my orange?"

"put it in my hand."

you huff, carefully maneuvering your arm around to keep your inner wrist pointed toward your body as you bring forward the orange and plop it aggressively into his hand. toji watches your other arm the entire time, taking clear note of how you refuse to let your wrist show, and you know you're fucked.

the green-eyed man tosses the orange to the side of the couch and holds out his large palm again, eying you intensely. you look down at him with a frustrated frown, shrugging. "i don't have anymore oranges."

"don't be cute, doll."

"what? do you want my hand?"

"you know i want your hand."

you roll your eyes, raising the hand you had held your orange with when he stops you. "not that one. the other one."

your heart pangs, shaking your entire body as he looks to you expectantly. how the fuck had he managed to notice the scar on your wrist so quickly?

the moment you hesitate, he knows that what he saw earlier is something to be concerned about. you normally never hide yourself from toji, and the way you go about hiding your arm now is defensive enough to raise several brows. he knows you're not dumb, too. he knows that you know exactly what he wants to see.

"(y/n)." he cocks a brow, the severity of his demeanor only making you more uneasy.

he can't see. he can't see what you've just done. he'll hate you. he'll look at you like you're crazy.

"what if i don't want to give you my hand?"

"then i'll just grab it for you, and i don't think either of us wants to go there."

you release a trembling, aggravated breath. you can't get away with anything when toji's around, and while you ponder having chosen to get an orange later, you know deep down somewhere you wanted toji to see. you wanted him to help you, which is why you walked out of that bathroom half an hour after having put those scars on your arm.

"hand, now."

you turn your eyes away with a grunt, slapping your wrist into his hand facing downward. toji is quick to whip it upside once he has a grip on you, and his eyes seem to freeze over the sight of three fresh slices on your upper forearm up close.

his jaw clenches, then unclenches, then clenches and unclenches again as his lips twitch and his eyes adjust to the vision. you're hurt. not only are you hurt, but it looks as though you've recently been hurt. you've hurt yourself.

toji has a hard time figuring out what to do. he's not good with things like this, but he knows that seeing you with scars on your arm is quite literally about to set him off. he always imagined having to defend you from others who seek to hurt you, but never having to defend you from yourself.

he can't fathom it. he's struggling, the muscles in his eyes are twitching, and he can't handle it. he can feel his heart begin to race, unsure if he is angry or scared or mortified or devastated.

there are three lines in your arm. bright red. staring right back up at him.

and you put them there?

no way, you put them there.

but you did. clearly you did, or else you wouldn't be looking so guilty right now.

but when did you? how did you? why did you?

he doesn't know what to think. he doesn't know what to say. he swore he'd always protect you, but how does he even begin to try to protect you from yourself?

"are you out of your mind?"

the question leaves him rather calmly, a low inquiry that you are unsure is meant to be directed as an insult or a genuine ask.

you can't look at him. you don't even know what to think yourself. it had all happened so fast while you were in the bathroom, before you got into the shower.

one minute, you were staring angrily in the mirror, cursing your reflection as your wicked thoughts sprouted grubby arms and guided you toward the pair of brow scissors that you kept in your makeup cabinet on the left side of toji's bathroom.

you wanted to feel in control of the disdain you felt lurking within your soul. you wanted to feel something for fear that you would never be able to feel again, and before you knew it, you were dragging the exposed blade over your skin.

"d'you wanna explain why i'm looking at these cuts on your arm, (y/n)?"

and you know, you know that it's a bad sign when toji uses your name instead of the plethora of pet names he normally elects to call you: doll, princess, mama, girl, pretty baby- anything but your actual government name, and when you hear it roll from his tongue under these circumstances, you can only imagine what's going through his head.

you shift on your bare feet, looking down at your toes. "dunno," is all you say, and toji scoffs in disbelief.

"you don't know?" he emphasizes. "that's all you have to say?"

"if you wanna embarrass me, go ahead, toji. seriously, i'm tired."

"what the fuck makes you think i wanna embarrass you? i wanna know why the fuck my girlfriend walked out of the bathroom with cuts on her arm!"

you rip your arm away immediately when he yells, storming back off into his room and slamming the door behind you.

toji jumps up, suddenly frazzled. he doesn't want you alone in there. he doesn't want you out of his sight.

the navy haired man moves quickly to his door and grabs the handle, only to find it locked. he jiggles it harshly and bangs on the door. beginning to panic. "open the door, (y/n)," he shouts, meeting no reply.

little does he know, your back is pressed against the other side as tears crash over your cheeks. you don't know how you expected toji to react, but the look on his face just now and his tone of voice was enough to send you running off.

you feel ashamed, weak. you shouldn't have gone out there at all. you should have waited until you were dressed, discarding the whole idea of letting toji see what you did so that you could suffer in silence without his help, because what help could he truly provide anyway?

toji's a tough man, but he's soft for you. he would stand in front of a moving train for you. he would sacrifice his life for you, so when you don't answer, he imagines the worst.

"open the door," he says again, weaker, tugging desperately at the handle though he knows it won't budge. he knows he could break the door down, and he's prepared to until he hears you sniff amdist his pounding. he immediately stops, face dropping.

fuck.

this is bad.

he knew it was before, but for some reason, it's only now registering how bad this is.

you're in pain. you hurt yourself because you're in pain and you need him, but he doesn't know how to help you. he's never dealt with anything like this before.

his hand slides from the door and to his side, forehead knocking against the door though his other hand remains tight on the handle. he just needs to see you.

"princess," he mutters defeatedly. "don't make me kick this door in."

silence.

"please," he softens even more. "please, (y/n), let me in."

the house falls quiet once more and you give in. you feel so lost, and the only person who can at least comfort you, in his own way, is toji.

you slowly turn to unlock the door and step back as toji opens it swiftly, staring down at you with wide eyes and at least relieved to see that you haven’t done any further harm to your body.

he does, however, see your tears.

his face tightens as he bends down to scoop you up in an instant, your legs and arms tightening around him as you snivel into his shoulder, his large palms sliding over your body. he feels your small body tremble against him as he walks the two of you over to the edge of his bed, sitting down as you cling to him like a koala.

"i dunno what happened," you whimper into him. "i dunno why i did it. i dunno. i dunno."

you say it over and over, your voice as broken as toji feels listening to you.

he wishes he knew what to do. he wishes he was better equipped to handle this, but never in his worst nightmares did he dream that he would find you here, his fiery girl, the love of his life.

he's been so busy trying to protect you from the outside world that he hasn't even thought about the things that could harm you from within.

he stays silent as you babble to him through tears, holding you just like he knew how. he doesn't want to picture those scars on you. he doesn't want to picture what led you to put them there. he just wants to hold you, to at least let you know that he's here and he's not going anywhere. he may not know how to help, but he knows how to love you and he hopes that's enough.

"i'm not letting you out of my sight, y'hear?" he says gruffly into your ear and you nod meekly. "i'm not letting this happen ever again. not as long as i'm alive."

he mentally swears to rid your house and his of any and every sharp object he can find and to throw it all in a safe as you sink into him.

toji knows how to protect and toji knows how to fight. though he's more acclimated with fighting others, if he has to fight to protect yourself from your innermost demons, then hell, he will find a way to do just that.

sukuna ryomen: lord help you and lord help anyone within a fifty-mile radius when the king of curses discovers that you've been harming yourself.

sukuna is not at all very good with his words or his expressions of affirmations. he is a being of action, and he believes that he has proven his love for you enough by simply allowing you to be in his presence longer than anyone else ever has or ever will.

at first, when he sees a scar or two on your leg, he thinks its just an accident or a result of you being clumsy. then, three more pop up, then five, then far more than he's even willing to count, and he decides that this scar pattern is somehow intentional.

he knows no one else has marked them onto you because he is prepared to kill anyone who comes too close, especially if they have ill intentions. if you were in danger at someone else's hand, he would be the first to know and the person meaning you harm would be dead before they could even think about touching you.

therefore, when he sees that the only person normally within your company is him, uraume, and yourself, the process of elimination leads him to you.

he goes about confronting you rather harshly, as well, for he knows no other way to be.

you're out in the garden of his large residence one day, soaking up the sun, when you hear familiar, loud stomps heading your way from behind.

you turn around and squint to peer up at sukuna, who is standing over you with a menacing glare in his crimson eyes. you don't necessarily find this out of the ordinary, so you greet him as usual.

"hi, kuna," you say sweetly. "you good?"

he is not good. not at all, so he gets straight to the point. "come inside, woman."

you quirk a brow. "why? i just got out here?"

"do not question me."

"can it wait, like, fifteen minutes?"

"do you wish to live in the next fifteen minutes?"

you sigh, entirely too used to sukuna's facade of cruelty around you. you know by now that the king of curses would never dare to hurt you.

"i do intend, to live, yes," you smirk.

"then you will come inside as i have demanded."

"no, sukuna. i want to stay out here for a bit. i've been inside all day."

the pink haired man fumes, teeth grinding together in agitation. he doesn't want to delay this conversation any further than it has already been delayed, but of course, you choose to be difficult.

"very well, we will do this out here," he growls and you smile.

"good."

you don't prepare yourself for when sukuna grabs the back of your chair and whips out around to face him with the unpleasant screech of the legs against the cobblestone. you wince, then retract your face when sukuna lowers his to stare at you from mere centimeters away, one of his arms grasping to push up the lose leg of your shorts up to reveal the set of scars littering your skin.

your eyes go wide, his movements too quick for you to process all at once.

"are these your doing?" he hisses and you gulp.

"s-sukuna-"

"i did not ask for you to say my name. i asked if these scars are your doing."

his eyes are piercing, striking directly into yours. "what are you talking about?" you whisper shakily.

"are we going to pretend like you're an idiot now?" he snarls. he's so mean, but he feels it's for good reason. your body has been tainted, and for some reason, you have been doing the tainting. he needs to know why.

you shake your head weakly. "no..."

"then answer me properly. i will not repeat myself a third time."

you bite down on your lower lip, heart ringing in your ears. you didn't even know sukuna paid attention to you enough to catch wind of something like this.

"yes... i did this," you finally tell him, and sukuna is livid.

"and why would you be doing something so foolish? scars are not something you are meant to give yourself, human."

"please don't be a dick, sukuna, not right now."

"i am asking a perfectly reasonable question and i expect you to answer it," he glowers. "now."

"you wouldn't understand if i told you," you frown and he clicks his tongue.

"stop assuming things of me before i lock you inside of my room where you can not escape or even fathom doing something like this to yourself again under my supervision."

you curl your brows, frowning up at your boyfriend. "if i tell you, you'll call me foolish."

"because this is foolish," he grunts. "but i will not if my doing so will get you to fucking explain yourself."

you shake your head, looking down and contemplating before deciding to just get it over with so that he can stop putting you on the spot. "sometimes i just feel shitty," is all you elect to say.

but sukuna is hardly satisfied with this response. "so you choose to inflict pain upon yourself instead of calling upon me?"

"i told you, you wouldn't understand," you say. "it's not something i can easily explain to you either."

sukuna narrows his eyes. "fine."

he lowers himself to grab you legs and throw you over his shoulder. you squeal, grabbing onto his back as he begins to walk you back into his home and toward his room. "sukuna!" you kick your legs around. "put me down!"

"no. you're coming with me, and you're going to sit and talk me through every single thought that has crossed your little mind to make you think that injuring yourself in such a way is tolerable within the walls of my residence. then after that, you'll come with me everywhere i go from this point on."

"what?!" you exclaim from where you hang upside down. "I don't wanna go everywhere you go," you wine.

"too bad. you should have thought of that before you decided to harm yourself."

sukuna is horrible with words, and far more horrible with expressing his concerns, but despite your temporary discomfort with how he goes about approaching the situation, you can still see in the pinch of his brow and the stiffness of his posture, combined with his refusal to let you go without a proper explanation, that he cares very deeply for your wellbeing.

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trickbxbes · 22 days ago

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𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝘿𝙖𝙚-𝙃𝙤 & 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙨 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝘿𝘾𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙉𝙎

DAE-HO

It’s been a long day for Dae-Ho. Struggling to pay off his debt made the man a busy bee. He was working himself to the bone, wanting a better life for you, his loving girlfriend. And so, you decided to give him a little treat.

He comes home, giving a little, “I’m home!” in the studio apartment you share. When he makes it to the bedroom, his jaw literally drops agape.

You’re there, sitting in the middle of the bed, candles lit in the dimly lit room. You wore a baby pink thin dress. “Welcome home, honey.”

He’s at a loss for words as he approaches. Gently touching your body to see if he was seeing the real thing. His hands gently caressing your hips with his thumbs.

Before he accepts what’s actually in front of him and mutters a, “This is all for me…?” He kisses up your collarbone to your neck, pulling you into his lap.

For someone so shocked about your surprise, he was staring more at your eyes than anything else. He looked like a loyal puppy, adoring you. You didn’t mind too much.

Gentle kisses turn into steamy make outs as he manhandles your body. “So pretty… so so pretty…”

Enjoy lots of foreplay before he gets to the real thing. He wants to admire how cute you look for him as long as possible.

Muttering soft words of affirmation, wanting you to truly know how much he appreciates this, and you

But don’t get me wrong he still fucks you like he means it, making sure you kept on the dress.

THANOS

Choi Su-Bong spent the day at the recording studio, embracing his persona ‘Thanos.’ But no matter how much attention and fame he got, you were always the one he wanted to go back to. No other girl could compare to you.

You saw him through the parts of him no one else could consider seeing into. The deep depression he fell into from being in so much debt. But recently, his newest song got him nominated for the Korea Music Awards. You thought now more than ever did he deserve something special.

He gets home, entering his loft that you both had to move into when his debt got worse. He rubs his eyes, tired from dealing with the press. He shuffles through his pockets, pulling out a baggy of a few pills. He stared for awhile, considering his next course of action. But then he heard the music.

He followed it to find you laying on your shared bed. A pink led light setting the mood. You wore a purple two piece lingerie, laying against the pillows with half lidded eyes. “Welcome back, babe~”

A small smirk immediately forms on his lips. “Baby?”

He’s on you in an INSTANT. Kissing and nipping at your skin, leaving marks down your body. “Fuck. I dunno why you bothered, I’m just gonna rip it off anyway—“ Yeah, you don’t know what you were thinking.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He’d claim.

You’re face down in the pillows screaming his name as he rails you from behind. He had one hand on the back of your head to keep you there. He’d have your brains fucked out and your guts rearranged. “That’s it… that’s my girl.”

#dae ho #dae ho x reader #dae ho squid game #squid game #squid game s2 #squid game x reader #thanos x reader #thanos squid game #squid game smut #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong #thanos

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just-a-ghost00 · 17 days ago

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A portrait of your fated lover

Group 1

Cards : Agate - Find your solid ground, Knight of pentacles, Treat yourself eat what you want, Underworld, Newborn butterfly, Majestic stag " I honor my self worth by asking for what I want."

There's a predominance of Earth energy in this spread, especially Taurus energy. I also picked up on Venusian energy so Libra may be significant as well. This person's energy feels very feminine. I think it is safe to say that this person is a lover by nature. They are very caring, kind, generous on a daily basis but those qualities will be even more highlighted when they are with you. They have a very empathetic nature as well. Their sensitivity shows in the way they talk and in their gestures. They walk very slowly, their touch is deliberate and careful, their tone is reassuring and warm. They are very encouraging and supportive of others as well. I feel like your trope with this person would be friends to lovers. Connection to and through music seems very significant. Music could be part of their hobbies but it could also be their job. They need time to trust people but once their mind is made, this person does not back down until they get what they want. They have a steady and secure approach with relationships. They take the time to get to know the other and make sure that both partners are on the same wave length because they value stability and authenticity. When they are dating, they are in for the long run. They're not interested in short term connections. This person is family oriented and also career oriented so they would appreciate a partner that is respectful of their goals.

They definitely are a foody ! In the past, they may have struggled with their body image and physical health. They could have struggled with eating disorders. But now, this person is very conscious of what they eat. However, they do not deprive themselves of what makes them happy. They've worked really hard on their sense of worth and can now proudly say that they love themselves. They've gone through an important transformation in their life. This could have involved a physical glow up. But I feel like their mental state changed drastically as well, as I get the impression with the underworld card that they overcame a period of depression. With the energy of the stag, I feel like this person has stepped into their true power after many trials. I also pick up on the fact that they feel grateful for these challenges because they're aware of the role they played in their progress. They learned how to set their boundaries and ensure that their needs are met. They may have been neglected in past relationships.

They enjoy spending time alone in nature to get back to their center. If in the past they used to be surrounded by many people, they learned the hard way that sometimes being alone was better than being in bad company. This person now values their alone time and makes it a part of their routine. Speaking of routines, their energy feels quite organized and stable. This person likes for things to be explicit. They like to know in advance what their schedule will be, what people expect of them, what resources do they have and so on. Unpredictability may scare them. Physically, I feel like they're quite tall and fit. They put a lot of work into their health and their appearance. They dress aesthetically. Their physical traits are natural for the majority : they don't dye their hair, they likely do not have any piercing or tattoo, if they've had any surgery it isn't something that is appearant and it was likely done for health purposes only. They may not wear make up or if they do, they use very little amount of product. I get a very clean vibe from this group. Honestly, I feel like your person could be modeling for an ad. For some of you, that may be part of their job. Anyways, they are definitely good looking and I feel like you'll particularly enjoy looking at their face. They may have straight hair with bangs that hide their eyes. They may like to wear hoodies and beanies or caps a lot. I feel like their fashion style is rather genderless. What stands out the most is how clean and tidy it looks all together. They may go for a casual chic vibe more often.

This person has a very romantic vibe. They could mostly show affection through physical touch, acts of service, gift giving and quality time. Though they may be very artistic and don't have any difficulty communicating in their daily life, I feel like in an intimate setting they have a hard time finding their words. They may not say "I love you" very often but their actions will show you without a doubt that they do. They'll bring you your favorite food when you're feeling a bit down, surprise you when you least expect it because you deserve it, anticipate your needs, make significant gestures to help you on your journey. Their love feels slow and steady. They'll build a cocoon around you that you'll never want to leave because of how safe you feel in it. You'll never have to fear this person's reactions or wonder whether they're faking it. Everything they do is very genuine and deliberate. If they tell you they like you, they mean it. If they gift you something, they meant to. They don't have any second thought, any ulterior motive than to take care of you, nurture you and love you wholeheartedly.

Channeled song (s) : Jimin - Lie, BTS - Butterfly Extras : niche interests, book worm, ASMR enthusiast, workaholic, gamer, middle child, ESFP, ISTP, ENTJ

Group 2

Cards : 8 of pentacles, Chrysocolla - Be your own mama, I've got superpowers, The Observer, Sturdy crab, Eternal roots "Guidance is available to me now. I know that angels, ancestors and spirit guides are always at hand. I do not walk alone.

Okay, this is definitely my psychic / healer group. This person is a good mix of Earth and Water energy, especially Taurus, Scorpio and Cancer. This person has a hard time looking at themselves in the mirror. They struggle with their body image and they are not comfortable with showing their body. They are very modest and this could also be because of their cultural background. They are a hard worker to the point that when they're up to something they have a hard time stopping. They may stutter or have a hard time finding their words in public settings but in private they can be pretty elaborate. This person had to grow up very quickly and parent themselves. They could be working in a medical field or a position that requires them to care for others : teacher, paramedic, massage therapist, psychologist and so on. They use their hands a lot or they have the ability to provide healing through touch. They may also do a lot of manual activities as a hobby. They could have the ability to read into energies. This may or may not be a conscious thing. This person is possibly religious and/or interested in the occult.

They have a hard time trusting other people. They have a sturdy shell that not many have been able to see beyond. This person is alone most of the time. They have a hard time making connections. They may struggle with ASD. This person could be neurodivergent. They need a lot of quiet time to recharge. They could also struggle with mental health issues. This person has been through a lot, that's for sure. And despite all of that, they are the kindest and sweetest person you'll ever meet. In group settings, they tend to be like a mother. They cater to everyone's needs exept their own. They encourage and compliment others, make sure everyone's eaten and drunk their water, that everyone's had a proper sleep and is feeling good. But they forget themselves in the process. Physically, they have rather long hair. They can be quite curvy but I feel like what stands out the most about their appearance is that they hide behind a lot of clothing. They wear oversized clothes or clothes that aren't revealing. They may layer clothes a lot. If they wear skirts or dresses, those are quite long and flowy so that it doesn't stick to their body. Even in Summer, this person is covered up. This person masks a lot of their true self in public. This could be litteral in the sense that they wear an actual mask in public, maybe for health purposes for some. But it could also be metaphorical in the sense that they wear things or act in ways that is not relevant to who they are as a person. This is likely a defense mechanism and they may do so because they feel pressured. Of course, it could also mean that this person wears a veil in public.

In connections, I feel like they show their affection in all ways. They have no problem changing love languages to adapt to their partner's needs. This person feels like a chameleon a little. I think this could be related to their ability to mask certain aspects of themselves but also to their high levels of empathy. I am not given many details about their physique but more about their personality so it could also mean that looks don't matter to them. They also feel very balanced in their feminine and masculine. It could be possible that this person is gender neutral. I see a lot of green on the cards which relates to heart chakra energy. So this person has a lot of heart that they put into everything they do. They are a very genuine person that only wishes to love and be loved. Their shell isn't easy to crack but once you've earned their trust, you can be sure that they will treat you like royalty. They are 100% a giver and tend to be on the submissive side. In that sense, they feel a bit similar to group 1's person. Family is important to this person. They may wish to have a family of their own in the future. Like group 1's person, they are not into short term connections. They date for the long run. They look for a partner that can be understanding of their shadows and will not run away when things get difficult. This person is dealing with an abandonment wound. In past connections, they were mostly left out and never chosen. They may have been bullied as a child. This person is extremely loyal and dedicated to their lover. You will never have to doubt about this person's dedication and intentions.

Channeled song(s) : Mario theme, Naruto OST, Saliva - I walk alone (Dave Bautista entrance theme) Extras : words of affirmation, cultural differences, kinky 24/7, first born child, golden retriever vibes, ASMR enthusiast, ISTP, ENFJ

Group 3

Cards : Copper - Energize your whole world, Strength, Hierophant, Do what you love, Cunning fox, Forgotten arch "The more I honor my inner light the more I brighten the world. I choose to shine."

This group gives of fire and earth energy, especially Taurus, Leo and Sagittarius. There are two things that are striking about this person : their eyes and their voice. They are smart AF. If you were to debate with them, you wouldn't be able to win. They are very convincing people. And also very charming. They ooze confidence. This is someone that is very active physically, both for health purposes but also for fun. They are very passionate, bed time included. They are also very funny. They make a lot of snarky comments and sexual inuendos. They speak and type really fast. They cannot stay still. They have many interests and can pretty much do anything. They're an all rounder and a fast learner. They are very skilled and popular among their peers. They have core values that they would defend no matter what. They cannot stand injustice. This stems from past experiences, including romantic ones. They could have been cheated on by ex partners. This person may have been told quite frequently in their life that they were "too much", "too loud", "too noticeable". Which may have birthed a lot of resentment in this person as well as anger issues.

Physically they are quite bulky and impressive. They intimidate people just by their looks. There's something about them that's very warm. It could be because of their fashion style, their shining smile or their incredible charisma. They are intense. Not only because they are constantly on their guards and ready to fight but because their personality is complex and they have a lot of depth. This person may be religious. Or at least they're very traditional. If they define themselves as a man, they may be a bit of a machist. They have a very dominant energy. I feel like they're the type to believe in that alpha/beta/omega dynamic between people. And they want to be perceived as and embody that alpha energy. They come off as very masculine in their energy. So they may struggle with expressing their feminine side more. This person is likely to show affection through actions than words. They are definitely sensual and kinky. They have a lot of stamina. They are stubborn AF. But they're also incredibly uplifting and inspiring. This person is the type that would push their partner to be the best version of themselves and help them embrace their own light. I feel like they would challenge their partner, tease them a lot, bring out the more competitive side of them because they themselves are very competitive. They aren't afraid of depth and shadows so if their partner had any rocky past I feel like this person wouldn't mind. They're the "only matters the here and now" type.

This person has a very curious mind and I feel like that applies sexually. They may like to spice things up quite often. They may enjoy spicy food and boosting their stamina with certain herbs deemed as aphrodisiacs. They could believe in superstitions. Again, I get a very committed vibe from this group. If this person dates someone, they do it with the hope that it will lead to something long lasting. They are the most likely to commit very early on in relationships. They do not like to dwell on the past. I also feel like very early on this person will make you feel like royalty. They definitely pamper their partner and spoil them. Even though they may not be into PDA, I feel like this person will deliberately at times use physical touch to show others you are off limits. They definitely are the jealous and possessive type. They may be a bit rigid at first in connections and they need to be sure their partner is as serious as they are if they want to be able to release the need to control.

Channeled song(s) : The Final Countdown, Doodle - Changbin Extras : book worm, cultural differences, gift giving, kinky 24/7, drama queen/king, INTJ, ENTP, INTP, INFJ

#just-a-ghost #pick a card #pac reading #love pac #oracle cards #tarot reading

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eowynstwin · 21 days ago

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peristalsis - ii.

selkie!soap x reader. depression. suicidal ideation. strangers to "lovers." . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.

You sleep long enough that, when you wake up, you have enough energy to cry.

It’s a big one. The kind of cry that threatens to turn your throat out, with how hard you sob. Alone in the cottage, far away from anything resembling civilization, you wail like wounded animal, choking on your own tears and mucus, losing track of your body buried underneath the covers—

But it happens at a remove. You watch yourself implode from someplace deep inside, not entirely sure why it’s happening at all—but long past trying to figure it out.

This is how it’s been for a while. There’s nothing special about it anymore. Nothing urgent. Most of the time, you are a blank space of a person, a vacuum where joy or rage or fear should be, but occasionally some maelstrom or another kicks up to fill it in, and your only course of action is to ride it out until it ends.

You’ve stopped trying to fix it. And you’ve stopped hoping anyone else can, either.

So you cry, until at last, you’re empty again. Or you’re too tired to continue. The difference is negligible, but functionally irrelevant. Once it’s done, you get out of bed.

The pressure in the shower is as weak as Johnny reported, but the water is indeed warm when you turn it on; you stand naked under the flow, arms hanging at your sides.

The day stretches itself out before you with nothing to occupying it, just as you’d planned. Nothing to work towards; no effort to put forward. Nothing, thanks to your choice of locale, to feel guilty about not seeking out.

A day of peace and utter quiet.

Suddenly—violent banging, somewhere in the cottage. It startles you; you jump so sharply at the noise that you smack your wrist on the soap caddy attached to the shower wall. The banging comes again—annoyed, you realize with no little bemusement that someone is at the front door.

You wrap yourself in a towel and hobble out of the bathroom to answer it, a piece of your mind on your tongue, dart-shaped and ready to fly—

Of course it’s Johnny.

Johnny, big and burly in a sweater, kilt, and pelt once again, two paper cups balanced in one large hand and a grocery bag hanging from the other. Whose dark brows shoot up his forehead as his eyes travel with surprise, and blatant appreciation, down the dripping length your body.

“Well, good mornin’, bonnie,” he purrs.

“What,” you grunt. A cold breath of wind chooses that moment to force its way through the door, gasping across the shower water still running in rivulets from your hair to the rolled edge of your towel. Goosebumps erupt from your bare skin in millions of simultaneous pinpricks—you flinch bodily at the chill.

“Ah, hell’s bells, don’t just stand there,” Johnny says, following the wind. “It’s freezin,’ go on, let me get in, hurry.”

You let him step inside, for some reason, and he shuts the door behind him with the heel of his boot. He wastes no time after that, heading to the kitchen to set down his things.

“Brought breakfast!” he says cheerfully. “There’s this bakery on Barra I thought you’d like, fresh doughnuts and coffee. Dunno how you take yours, but there’s sugar in the pantry and cream in the fridge.”

“I don’t want breakfast,” you say.

“What? ‘Course you do. I’m no’ takin’ you seal-watchin’ on an empty stomach.”

He starts unpacking the grocery bag and setting things on the counter while your jaw hangs open. Several things occur to you to say—I never agreed to that and what the hell is wrong with you, for starters—but your stomach growls at him before you can. The aroma of fresh-baked pastry wafts through the kitchen when he opens one box, and he turns to grin at you, cheeks dimpling.

“Do you get dressed, bonnie,” he says. “It’ll still be here when y’get back.”

It is less polite than he perhaps intends it to be, given that his gaze travels appreciatively across your bare shoulders. You cross your arms fruitlessly over your chest and, nothing else for it, retreat to the bedroom, feeling his eyes on you the whole way.

You return to the kitchen after having pulled on wool leggings and the same fleecy sweater from the day before. Johnny, one hip set against the counter, has a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a half-eaten cruller in the other, crumbs at the corner of his mouth.

“Got anythin’ heavier?” he asks around a chewed-up mouthful. “Gets cold out there.”

You look down at his bare calves, broad and taut and covered in a down of dark hair. “You seem alright.”

“I’m used to it,” he says, shrugging—the muscles flexing under your gaze.

You purse your lips. “I don’t have anything.” You hadn’t intended to leave the cottage overmuch.

You approach the counter. Johnny does not move a centimeter, forcing you to stand close as you pick through the two boxes of doughnuts and feel the body heat radiating off of him, displacing the scent of fried dough with his musk.

“That’s all right,” he says. You’re close enough to hear the way his voice hums deep in his chest. “I can keep you warm.”

You snatch a plain glazed from the box and take two very large steps away from him. The hair on the back of your neck lifts as you press against the sink behind you. If he notices your reaction, it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest—he lifts the cup to his lips and drinks, eyes sliding closed with simple, obvious pleasure, dark lashes curling against his cheek.

You take the brief respite from his gaze to stare at him. In the morning light, on a full night of sleep, you can almost believe that whatever you’d seen in him yesterday had been nothing more than a misfire of exhausted synapses. An overlay of a dream; a circadian prompt to rectify nearly seventeen hours of sleeplessness. You’d been cold, and tired, and hungry. That was all.

You bite down on your doughnut, not really tasting it. The nerves along your spine twitch and contract around the memory of his flashing gaze.

His eyes open again, and he smiles at you. “Good?” He flicks a look at the single bite you’ve taken, looks at your mouth, and then waits for your reply.

“It’s fine,” you grumble. Then, “How did you get here? I didn’t hear the truck drive up. Do you live close by?”

“Sometimes,” he says. He looks pleased that you’ve asked, that you’re interested at all, and you immediately regret inquiring. “Live on a boat, me. Moored in the cove right now.”

“A…boat,” you say.

“Aye.” A wisp of dark hair, something he must have missed when he gelled his mohawk this morning, flutters as he nods. “Nice and cozy. Not as grand as all this, mind.” He gestures around with coffee and doughnut at the less than five hundred square feet of the cottage. “But it’s still a sight nicer than some other places I’ve slept.”

He’s likely hinting at his military service. “Okay,” is all you say, unwilling to entertain it.

He smirk—undeterred. “We’ll take her out once you’re ready.”

“I never said I was going.”

Dark brows lift. “Got somethin’ else planned for today?” he asks, incredulous, as if he never imagined you wouldn’t want to hang out with him.

“No, I—”

You wrack your brain. You have no intention of explaining to this complete stranger that the last thing you’d wanted to do, when you booked this trip, was really anything at all—and in fact, you hadn’t even considered that that might be something anyone else would care much about.

Much less proactively address.

“No,” you repeat, sulking.

Johnny considers you, chewing. His eyes do not stray, this time, to places they don’t belong; but there’s an insight to them. A sharp awareness. A perception in his gaze that is just as undressing, as if whatever is going on with you is visible to the naked eye.

“I figure,” he says, slowly, as if to coax, “you put your wee shoes on, an’ I’ll pack this back up, and we take it along.”

“You don’t have to do this,” you grouse. “I don’t need you to, like—be my tour guide.”

“Aye, but that doesnae mean I don’t wanna,” he retorts, smiling.

He shoves the last bite of cruller in his mouth and gazes patiently at you as he works it with his jaw, the muscles flexing along his temples as he chews.

Exhaustion, your constant companion, stares you down alongside him. It would take so much more energy to fight him than to go along with whatever he has planned. Energy you just don’t have anymore. And going along doesn’t mean you have to pretend to enjoy yourself—it’s not like you care enough about Johnny’s self-esteem to conjure up a happy face to show him.

You can go, and be a bitch about it, and once you do maybe he’ll realize you’re not at all worth the effort he’s making, and then finally leave you alone.

“Fine,” you say, which is how you end up on a fishing trawler headed south toward, ostensibly, a colony of breeding seals.

It’s an old vessel—that much is obvious. Its edges and corners are dull with the passage of time and constant maintenance, scuffed by innumerable passes-over with cleaner and cloth. Mildew competes with the aroma of fresh varnish as Johnny leads you onto the bridge, which is mercifully closed in from the ocean wind.

The interior is mostly wood of a warm, orangish variety—you can’t tell if that’s a decision made with aesthetics or function in mind. The space comprises a kitchen, surprisingly well-appointed with a stove, sink, countertop, and fridge, and a small sitting area with both couch and booth seating. Surrounding windows allow in the grey light of the morning.

“Bought it off an old bloke on Lewis,” Johnny says, taking his place at the wheel, which is in a little alcove off the kitchen.

If you’d thought steering a boat would have curtailed his chatting, you’d have been wrong—he seems to have no trouble with that and talking, incessantly, at the same time, as he pulls the vessel away from the cove and into the open water.

“All his family moved to the mainland, he told me, an’ this is after generations fishin’ these islands, even makin’ it through the Clearances! No money in it anymore, he said, not like you could make in some office somewhere countin’ someone else’s money.” He checks something on the dashboard in front of him, but it doesn’t distract him for long. “Held on for a while, but people just kept leavin,’ an’ he was gettin’ too old to go out on his own. Got such a good price on it, I think he was just happy someone else was gonna take up the tradition.”

“Did he sell you the cottage too?” you ask, and then dig your nails into your wrist for encouraging him.

“Yup,” he says. “No one else wanted it, but me? I saw somethin’ special about it.”

He turns to smile at you—no doubt pleased you made the connection. You avert your gaze.

“Imagine someday I’ll have my own family here,” he continues. “Good place for it. Nice and slow, not like city living. Can hear yourself think out here. Perfect place to have a few wee ones.”

“If people stop leaving,” you mutter.

He turns to you again. “I’m no’ worried about that,” he replies. He’s still smiling. “You came here, after all.”

You have nothing to say to that.

The trip is a short one—Johnny brings the trawler alongside an island he informs you is called Mingulay, a square mile smaller than Vatersay’s tiny dot in the North Atlantic. Unlike the latter, he says, this island has not been inhabited since 1912, and has been completely reclaimed by the ocean and its wildlife.

After he drops anchor offshore, Johnny disappears down a steep flight of stairs below deck, which he had not offered a tour of, and emerges a short time later with a large, bulky coat.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he says proudly, holding it out by the shoulders. “Here, turn ‘round.”

You pause in the middle of reaching for it. You don’t know exactly why you comply—it occurs to you that if you grabbed for the jacket, he could simply not let go of it, and you would end up exactly where he wants you anyway. So you lower your arm and, resigned, give him your back.

He steps up behind you. Warmth pours off of him, more than you think any human body should be able to generate.

You hear him inhale, deeply, as he brings the jacket to your back. As you slide your arms into the sleeves, you feel his exhale on the nape of your neck, teasing through individual follicles of hair.

“There w’go,” he murmurs, much closer than you expected.

You can hear the low hum of his voice in his chest; his hands linger on your shoulders far longer than they need to, heavy, big enough that his index fingers brush along your collarbones.

When his hands make to slide down your back you step away from him and fumble to zip the jacket up; he chuckles lightly behind you. When you turn to face him, his lips are curled—smug.

“Alright then,” he says. “Let’s get out there.”

He rows the two of you to shore in a small kayak, two pairs of binoculars in your lap as you huddle away from the wind. You’ll be walking to the haul-out, he says—getting too close to the breeding grounds, which he calls a rookery, would spook them, possibly causing a stampede.

“It’s grey seals we’re gonna see,” he explains as the two of you pick your way across the rocky landscape. “Not the biggest haul-out you could see, some colonies get into the thousands, but we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

He insists on taking your elbow every time the two of you cross particularly uneven terrain, even though you don’t need it. You think he takes your attempts to shake him off as proof of your lack of balance, because he grasps you all the tighter every time.

“I’m not a child, Johnny, I can walk on my own,” you finally snap at him.

“Just bein’ a gentleman, bonnie,” he replies nonchalantly. He does not let you go.

As you get closer, you hear the seals before you see them, and when their voices reach you across the open island, you stop dead.

Groaning, grunting, hissing in a cacophonous chorus. Some part of your hindbrain double-takes, reshuffles itself—some ancestral instinct always on the lookout for predation. If you’d been given a chance to guess what a colony of mating seals might have sounded like, you’re not sure you could have guessed what they sounded like.

Certainly not like what you hear now—

Like people.

Johnny grins at you when he notices. “Aye, it’s a right ruckus, innit?”

He leads you up a small rise, where he has the two of you settle belly-down over the machair to overlook the wedge of rocky coast that the colony has claimed for its own.

And when you finally see it—it’s underwhelming.

Perhaps two hundred long, fat bodies, in varying shades of brown and grey, lay indolently along the rocks, in groups of three or four, some heavily galumphing from one place to another while others roll occasionally from side to side. The shifting winds catch their scent and blow it uncaringly into your face; you nearly gag at the admixture of dead fish and ammonia.

It doesn’t escape you that this is a rare thing to witness; you are not wholly immune to the fact that you are only a hundred meters away from something most people only encounter on a screen. It’s just that without a swell of awed music in the backdrop, or a narrator’s breathless wonder at the miracle of pinniped life, what’s left for you to observe is a population of wet, stinking animals, shitting where they lay, vocalizing without cease while they laze about doing basically nothing.

Johnny does not seem to notice your disillusionment; he hands you one pair of binoculars, and directs your attention to activity along the shoreline. You follow to where he’s pointing; one larger seal is hassling a smaller one, which snarls at the aggressor as it thrashes around with its substantial bulk.

“Little one there—” Johnny says, “that’s a female, probably obvious. Big one knows she’s ready to mate, can smell it on her.”

The female bares her teeth and lunges at the bigger male, which flinches back but holds his ground.

“Doesn’t look like she agrees,” you mutter.

“She’s just givin’ him a hard time. She’s all in heat, see? Just makes her cranky,” Johnny says. You feel his eyes on you, and lower your binoculars to look at him. “She’s got to fight to feel all in control.”

You flush. “Right.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” you say. “He’s—he’s just bothering her.”

He gazes at you for a moment, contemplative. Corners of his mouth quirking upward. He does not reply for a long moment, long enough that you have to avert your gaze from his.

“Nah,” he finally says, and you don’t think you’re imagining the low, sultry note in his voice. “She wants it bad as he does.”

You scowl, uncomfortably perceived, and return your binoculars—the pair is still facing off, gurgling and growling at each other. The female is slim, almost sleek, unlike most of the other seals populating the rookery.

“Is she sick?” you ask.

“Hm? Oh, no, she’s alright. The mums lose a lot of weight when they nurse. Takes three weeks, and they don’t eat in the meantime.”

“Jesus.”

“Be nice if the dads ever brought ‘em a bite, aye?” Johnny agrees. “Deadbeats, the lot of them.”

The two of you survey the colony in silence for a moment. As the morning wears on, the cloud covering thins overhead, allowing cool sunlight to filter through. The temperature doesn’t rise in response; begrudgingly, you tug Johnny’s jacket a little tighter around you.

Then, suddenly, his hand lands on your back, between your shoulder blades.

“Got some pups over there,” he says. “Look, by the kelp.”

You find them; smaller bodies, white dinged with wet sand and dirt, lounge near their mothers or wriggle with aimless difficulty. They’re fluffy and round as plush toys, with shining black eyes and noses, and once Johnny’s pointed them out you can differentiate the higher, sweeter pitch of their cries from the overall cacophony.

“Sometimes,” Johnny murmurs, “search and rescue’ll get called out because someone thought they heard a baby crying. Some kid stranded or lost, right? Turns out to be a baby seal.”

“That’s kind of scary,” you say.

“Aye,” says Johnny. “Always makes me think that’s where the old legends come from, about seal people or mermaids.”

A small ways away, some of the mothers lay with their pups far into the surf, letting the waves break over them. You watch as one mother thunks her large head overtop of her pup’s as the water rushes toward them; the pup wriggles, and then, as the wave engulfs them, it begins to thrash, whipping up a panicked froth.

“Time for swimming lessons already?” Johnny muses. “Seems early.”

You’re horrified. “She’s going to drown it!”

The hand still on your back pats you consolingly. “Just watch,” says Johnny.

The wave reaches as far up the shore as gravity allows, and then begins to recede. The pup’s thrashing calms as the air meets its face once again; the cow allows the pup to lift its head, and after a few sputters, the pup seems no worse for wear.

“They’re hardier than they look, bonnie,” Johnny says.

His hand, heavy and warm even over his borrowed jacket, slides down from your shoulders to your lower back, and then he rubs, slowly, side to side, as if to comfort you—but the knobs of your spine contract at his touch.

“Last of the births this season, looks like,” he says. “Mum’s getting ready to leave—probably not the only one.”

Something hard drops into your stomach.

“They leave their babies?” you ask.

“Aye. Once they’re done nursing, they mate, and then they go.”

You look back at the other cows with their pups. One baby has its muzzle to its mother’s belly, quivering and suckling, while she lays with her head on a patch of grass. She looks uninterested—more, she looks disinterested. As if how voraciously her pup is nursing has nothing much to do with her, and she’s bored of even having to think about it.

Bored—and already looking forward to the next part of her life without a baby in it.

“That’s horrible,” you say.

“They’re solitary animals, bonnie,” Johnny says, not ungently. “The only time they’re really all together is for this.”

A line tightens between your stomach and throat, and you feel it start to build between your ribs. A tremor—foreshocks. The wind picks up, bringing a sharp chill off the ocean and up the rise that cuts into your stinging eyes, abrades the naked skin of your hands and the exposed part of your neck.

When you look through your binoculars again, you wonder how many of the pups you see have already been abandoned.

“Aw, bonnie,” Johnny says. There’s a kind of pity in his voice that has your hackles raising.

“I want to leave,” you say, yanking away from his touch and shuffling down the incline. “Take me back to the cottage.”

“Bonnie, it’s okay!” Johnny protests, rolling to his back to look at you as you stand. “The pups make it, they figure out how to fend for themselves.”

You glare at him, vision blurring. “All of them?”

Some part of you knows you’re being irrational—knows that nature is a cruel home, and that many children face worse fates than the seal pups. Abandoning the young, the needy, is no aberration; it is, in fact, far more the standard than the human practice, which lingers for decades—

Most of the time.

Johnny has no response. He holds your angry gaze, brows drawn low, mouth pressed into a thin line. It’s the first time that cocky aura, which seems to rest in every fine line on his face and every angle at which he holds his body, is completely absent.

He isn’t reflecting your anger back at you, though—he’s internalizing it. Letting it hit him, you think, and trying to use it to figure you out.

You do not want to be figured out.

You scoff again. “Take me back,” you repeat, and then you start walking in the direction you came, without waiting for him to follow.

Johnny drops you off in the cove, and thankfully does not linger this time before he departs—he bids you farewell after rowing you to shore, contemplation on his face, and then leaves you to yourself.

You retreat, seeking the cottage’s empty quiet.

As you perch on the couch you listen to the radiator hum—the wind blow over the reeds in the thatch roof—your own heart beating a drum in the arteries of your neck.

Percussive. Quick and hard. Like heavy knockers on a door. Pounding as if to burst through.

You realize you’re still wearing Johnny’s jacket, and you throw it off, disgusted with yourself. You get up and pace, and try to ignore it lying in a heap on the floor.

You do something you swore you wouldn’t do the moment you set foot on the island—you turn your phone back on.

True to Johnny’s word, there’s no signal. You picked this island, this part of the world, for a reason; for the past several years, a slow exodus from the British isles has vacated the need for dedicated cell towers or satellite or internet access, especially given that the only ones who remain are too old now to want it or need it or know how to use it.

It’s isolated. Cut off. Left behind by anyone with better options, and only clung to by those trying to preserve the only way of life they know.

Some kinder part of you belongs with that demographic; the part that was telling your mother the truth, before getting on the plane.

The rest of you holds your phone up and starts walking around.

In the furthest corner in the bedroom, you find a single bar of signal. A tiny chip of connectivity—a thin, frayed thread. Something you lied to yourself about cutting.

It’s a weak connection. Unstable. It could take a while—you stand there, waiting.

The screen dims. You tap it again.

Blank.

You unlock it, look through your apps. Wonder if maybe your notifications are bugged by your new SIM card.

Nothing—

No one.

You whip around and, with a cry, pitch the thing at the far wall—it hits the stone with a crunch, falling to the floor in pieces.

You’re out of the cottage then in a mad dash, door slamming behind you, driving yourself back into the wind. Far away—you want to be far away, far from everything, so far that nothing could possibly reach you. You trudge down the path toward the beach, banding your arms across your chest, shivering in the cold, and yet you hardly feel it.

Not worth it. No point. Waste of your time. Energy. All of it. Stop trying. Stop wanting. Nothing. Nothing. You want nothing.

You’re halfway down to the shore, not really knowing what you’re going to do when you get there, when you catch sight of a body on the sand.

You gasp, a sharp breath down your larynx, and freeze in a dead halt.

The body is completely still.

A swimmer? A diver? It’s dark, like it just pulled itself out of the ocean—or washed up—

Then, it moves. A twitch, a ripple across its bulk, and your chest rapidly decompresses.

A seal. It’s a large seal, lounging alone on the beach.

You stand motionless. You’re very close—much closer than you and Johnny had been at the rookery. You hadn’t contended with the sheer size of the animals, tucked safely up and away from them, but there is no illusion of distance now.

It’s the biggest one you’ve seen today, you’re sure of it. Bigger, you think, than most adult men. Its pelt is a riot of every shade of grey, splashy, like liquid paint thrown across a canvas. Black speckles scatter overtop of marbled white and cool slate, and down the center of its back is a broad, dark line, soft at the edges, which reaches all the way up to the top of the seal’s head.

The bull—it must be male—turns over. It lifts its head, and opens its eyes—

Fear suddenly zips up your spine as it looks right at you.

You stumble backward and trip on your own feet, landing hard on your ass. Johnny’s care with keeping enough distance from the colony rushes back to you, along with the warring couple’s bared teeth.

They can’t move that fast on land, right? They aren’t interested in people, right?

You scramble backward. It’s so much bigger than you ever would have imagined. If it got to you—threw itself over you—it could crush you with its weight alone—

The bull watches you placidly. Unperturbed.

You pause.

Its small eyes are dark and glossy—watchful and focused. The whiskers on its muzzle twitch a little as it takes you in. It breathes, deeply and evenly, huge body expanding and contracting at a slow, calm tempo. Its—his—nostrils flex, widening and narrowing, as he blinks docilely.

Unafraid.

If anything—curious.

Then he snorts, and wriggles in place. It startles a laugh out of you, more reaction than humor. Still watching you, the bull lowers his head back down, resting it again on the sand.

Your heartbeat abates. He doesn’t move again—nor does his attention leave you. Slowly, you sit up.

Wary. No sudden movements.

He doesn’t react; only continues to watch you.

You draw your knees up. Wrap your arms around your shins, and dust a bit of sand from your leggings. Rest your chin in the crevice between your knees.

There’s an intelligence in the bull’s eyes that is fathoms deep. There is a massive gulf between his experience of the world and yours, millennia of evolution separating your species from his—and yet…as you hold his gaze, you recognize the look in it.

Him, seeing you. And seeing you see him. The pendulum swinging between awareness of each other, and recognition of that shared awareness.

An empty space in the cloud cover passes overhead; sunlight touches the earth, warms it briefly before disappearing again. You wonder a little why this bull isn’t with the other seals.

Johnny would probably know.

“I didn’t come for you, you know,” you grumble at him.

The seal blinks. Awareness notwithstanding, you don’t share any language.

You sigh. “I guess you didn’t come to see me either,” you say.

But you don’t move away.

And you stay like that for a long while, you and he—regarding each other as the wind breathes out across the shore.

a/n: follow for more seal facts™

Also huge thanks to Lev for trawler listings/info. Didn't explore it much this chapter but Soap's boat will show up more soon :)

#soap x reader #soap x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #john soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x you #soap mactavish x reader #soap mctavish #john soap mactavish #mwritessoap #madi writes #am i happy with the photos i used? no #am i going to make an effort to change them? also no #does that image of a whirlpool look terribly erotic? oh yes #selkie soap #peristalsis

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astra-ravana · 3 months ago

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Tips For Working With Demons

Here are some tips and general advice for working with demons and spirits. I'll probably add more to this list as things come to mind.

• These are individuals, people like you and me. Many of them have had human incarnations here on Earth. They understand your struggle and have their own issues and emotions as well. They have favorite things, best friends, family, and feelings. They are powerful, yes, but should also be treated with love and respect.

• They can and will speak to you. If you possess psychic abilities you may be able to channel some or all demons. People often ask how to tell the difference between the voice of a spirit, or an internal voice or hallucination. Spirit will never speak over you, interupt your ability to think freely, or control your mind. They simply speak, if you're willing to listen. They may also manifest physically, move objects, visit your dreams, send you signs, they have many ways to get their point across.

• Do not stress over time. If you haven't spoken to or left an offering to your patron demon in a few weeks because you've been depressed or busy, this is fine. Spirits do not experience time as we do and your absence is little more than a blink of an eye to them.

• Get creative with your offerings. King Paimon loves chocolate, Bune loves fancy perfume, Lucifer fancies himself some whiskey. You may wonder how offerings help demons, since they lack a mortal body. All physical beings possess a spirit and as such, all physical objects possess an essence. This essence can be absorbed by a spirit to allow them to taste/experience the offering. This gives them energy as well. Fun fact: once the essence of a consumable offering is taken it will be dull and tasteless. Try it sometime.

• Remember to say "thank you". Show appreciation and gratitude to any demons that lend their time and power to enhance your life. This is a team effort and no one likes to be used. Friendship and growth should be your top priorities when working with spiritual entities.

• Go ahead and draw that sigil badly. It's ok to only give a tiny drop of blood. Demons are far from perfect and do not expect perfection from you. Your effort and intention is what matters most.

• Stay away from Solomonic or Abrahamic methods that aim to control or trap demons. This is not likely to end well for you and it is a huge betrayal to the trust of a powerful cosmic being. If you are afraid of the interaction, there are many other forms of personal protection you can employ.

• Chances are there is a demon or spirit that resonates with you. Don't get discouraged if your first several attempts don't spark a connection. Read up on different entities and mediatate to find where you should try next.

• Let go of your preconceived expectations. Demons are not going to just make you rich, successful, or smart. These things are the result of forming strong bonds of power and raising one's consciousness. Often times you won't get what you want, but what you need instead. Spirits can see the bigger picture of who we are, our capabilities, and our soul's path. Trust their vision.

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curlyfriesgalore · 1 month ago

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the tulpar's very own "mom" & "dad."

i sent an anon message to a user (iykyk 🫣) about the reader dating curly while being a co-captain/pilot alongside him. they're seen as the mom and dad of the group because of their positions as leaders, and daisuke claimed they both had major facebook mom energy. definitely not self-projecting.

the two rolled with it, but discovered that they liked it way more than they realized, eventually calling each other mommy and daddy in their own space.

★ this is a sfw & nsfw list of headcanons and what is essentially a one-shot that's broken up into bullets. [4,211 words]

☆ gen tags: fem! reader (she/her) who loves being captain and doesn't know what's popular these days. reader and curly are in their early 30s. no crash au. curly wants to have a family with you. jimmy is a janitor here LMAO.

★ nsfw tags MDNI: mommy (mama) kink. daddy kink. role switching but leans into fdom/msub. curly secretly got a thing for breeding 🫢.

[any feedback on my writing is much appreciated btw! since i'm doing this to improve —iris🌠]

sfw.

★ the dynamic.

you and curly met through working at pony express. both of you were equally capable captains and pilots of your respective ships, bonding over the responsibilities and pressures of your roles.

curly adored your genuine drive for this job. you were so passionate about bringing out the best in people and enjoyed micro-organizing every little detail, making sure everything went smoothly.

meanwhile, he was just good at talking, which you would always praise, but he never found much pride in what he does. however, it paid immensely well, and, at the very least, he got to indulge in his love for astronomy at every waking hour, distracting himself enough from cycling through his depressive thoughts.

so, he's not complaining. plus, he gets to ogle at and hang out with the prettiest and coolest person at pony express.

(sure, he had jimmy, so he wasn't always so alone with his mind, but with you in his life, he might actually have a chance at settling down. though, curly was getting ahead of himself. he'll try to drop his future family fantasies for now... juuust until he's sure he can bag you).

curly finds your way of leading to be so endearing and... intimidating, honestly. while he was calm and compromising, you were firm and authoritarian. you were never swayed by incompetence and planted a strong ground when navigating discourse between crewmates, but, at the same time, you were nurturing. you have an air of deep kindness and wise guidance that sends him reeling. he'd openly tell you how much he admired that, but would never admit that he daydreams of how hot you looked when you ordered your crew around. he's got to stay professional, after all!

at some point, the two of you were paired for a 3-month long-haul flight. you, the captain, and he, the co-captain. one thing lead to another and without the company's knowledge, you two fell for each other.

how could you not? you two had all the elements of a power couple and understood each other better than anyone else. besides, he is one hunk of a man. of course you'd want to snag him for yourself, who wouldn't?

funnily enough, you guys asked to see each other in the cockpit with the same intention of declaring feelings.

and, of course, since you two were grown adults stuck on a spacecraft far too long for your libidos to handle, it only took two confessions interrupting each other, two pairs of hands holding, and two soft kisses to lead to the two of you passionately making out, with you straddling his lap as he wrapped his arms around your back.

it's been years since then, and the tulpar was just one of many long-haul trips where the two of you got to work together.

however, you guys have kept your relationship hidden for the sake of professionalism. even jimmy was dumbfounded to accidentally find out nearly a year into dating.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"dude, why the fuck do you have captain l/n in your wallet...?" jimmy squinted at the photo. his eyes scrolled down the print, coming to a halt and widening at what he saw, "wait, shut up, is that you two kissing?"

his eyebrows contorted into a tense knit. his mouth gaped as he stared at curly, who stood and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "since when?!"

as curly explained himself, jimmy half-heartedly laughed as he shook his head, bemusement painting his face. whether or not he was ever happy to learn about this, curly will never know.

then, realization hit. jimmy frowned as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "oh, god, please don't tell me those stains i've been cleaning were from you guys?"

"huh?! no, no! jimmy, i swear, that wasn't us, i promise!" curly panicked, his head shaking profusely.

turns out, it was, lmfao. jimmy gave him an earful, and curly kept apologizing, embarrassed that his best friend knows a little too much about what he's been doing around the ship.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

this man adored you, more than anything. the security you had in him—in yourself, most of all, was intoxicatingly comforting.

the two of you swore to stick together for as long as it takes, and have already planned out your wedding, buying a house together, changing careers (curly wants to be a stay-at-home dad, maybe freelance in something if he's got time), owning pets, raising kids (he is 100% a girl dad!!! i can see him wanting at least 2, but if you still have room for one more, he'll gladly take responsibility *wink* *wink*), etc.

curly believed that you both balanced well as parents. you would teach the kids to be brave and confident in themselves, whereas, he would help them learn to handle confrontation calmly and be friendly to all.

(he's not saying that you weren't friendly, just that, between the two of you, he specialized more in the charm department. he wasn't wrong, though! back before you guys dated, he cranked his charisma to a max, and look where that's got him now 🤭).

all of this meant everything to curly. he had quite a rough start to life, not financially but familially (how you want to interpret that is up to you). it's why he's become such a people-pleaser and tends to be a doormat, growing used to internalizing his feelings because he believed others were more deserving of pity (a belief that's been reinforced by jimmy throughout their friendship).

not to mention, how much he worried about being with someone who had to stay on earth. he felt guilty for this hypothetical person, how they'd be akin to a military spouse, waiting for god knows how long, just for curly to come back and stay for less than 6 months at a time. it sickened him to think of how that would affect his future children.

so, for him to be in a relationship with someone in the same occupation and caliber as him eased a lot of that fear. and, this is the same person who is known for her emotionally maturity, who knows how to express her thoughts and feelings, and who loves curly for all that makes him him, giving him more reasons than he already had to get down on that knee.

good GOD does he wish he could go ahead and do that already, but proposing on an aged piece of metal in outer space wasn't the most... romantic setting, as much as you jokingly insisted it was.

but, no worries, curly's got it all planned out. once you all land back on earth, curly is making sure you get your dream proposal, for that man is stopping at nothing to wed you and love you for the rest of his life!

★ the beginning to a never-ending petname.

one night, anya pulled out a pop-culture board game, one that the others understood the rules and references of fairly quickly. but, you and curly? oh, you guys needed time.

you two weren't dumb by any means, you guys were just... a little behind on the trends—trends that have been out for forever 💀.

everyone poked fun at how much you would both pause and say, "huh...?" or "w-what's that from, again?" how your brows would knit and furrow, your faces looking blank as ever. the two of you would take a slow glance at each other, then at the others, and shake your head in confusion.

admittedly, swansea was in the same boat as you two, but even he knew a couple of things better than you lot. "the benefits of raising two nerds for kids," he'd say. he liked laughing at you guys, made him feel young.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"ohh, isn't that the game you play on your gameboy, daisuke? the... you know, uh, the cute pika ball thing?" daisuke stared at curly, dumbfounded by what he was hearing.

"CAPTAIN. HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THE NAME OF ONE OF—IF NOT—THE HIGHEST FORMS OF ART?!" he turned to you, desperation fueling his eyes. "l/n, please tell me you've at least heard of pokémon before..." daisuke exaggeratedly clasped his hands together.

you sat there, pursing your lips with shifty eyes and pretended to whistle as you looked away.

"anya. swansea. i think i'm gonna faint..." he dramatically dropped himself onto the two. swansea shook his head, uncrossing his arms and pulling daisuke off his and anya's laps, "kid, you are way too dramatic for your own good."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

daisuke exasperatedly commented on how you and curly were so much like his parents, clueless and far too involved in work to know his interests.

then, he thinks for a second, and finally decides that you guys were technically the parents of the ship.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"right? think about it. if the tulpar were a house and we were family, l/n and curly would be mom and dad 'cause they're responsible for us and the ship. swansea's the grandpa—oh, come on, swan, don't look at me like that!"

"i mean, you do have grandkids, swansea..."

"exactly. THANK YOU, anya. now, you get to be the cool older sister, i'm the even cooler teenage son, polle can be like... our little pet or something, and jimmy is the uncle!"

"wh-why am i the uncle?"

"'cause you know... you're... you."

"what is THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!"

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

as an "argument" ensued between the others, you and curly were flushing. nobody but jimmy knew of your relationship, but the fact that daisuke figuratively paired you guys as a married couple turned you into a bashful, blushing mess.

nobody noticed, really. jimmy was too busy grumbling about being seen as the weird uncle, and everyone started getting really annoyed by him. so, in classic curly and y/n fashion, you two tried to resolve the situation (curly reassured jimmy that uncles can be cool! but jimmy's frown just deepened).

the game ended, and the two of you walked to your sleeping quarters, reflecting on how it went. not bringing up the mom/dad thing just yet, but it lurked in the back of your minds.

deciding to stay in his room, you and curly changed into your pjs. you snuggled up under the covers, but he momentarily checked on some paperwork. you groaned, rolled your eyes, and patted the pillows.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"babyyy, just get into bed now." you pouted.

curly chuckled, "okay, okay... just give me ooone more sec, mama, i'll be right there—"

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

your eyes widened, a fuzzy warmth bubbled within you. curly quickly got embarrassed and apologized, but when you softly chuckled and reassured him that you didn't mind, he relaxed.

hearing how smoothly 'mama' rolled out his tongue unlocked something deep in you.

the truth was, curly had been calling you 'mom', 'mama', and 'mommy' in his fantasies for quite some time now. he told you, now with him in bed, how it helped him immerse himself in imagining his future with you. even in scenarios where you didn't have kids yet, it still felt so soothing to call you by those titles.

he rested his head in the crook of your neck as you circled his back with your palm, occassionally playing with the ends of his hair. as he yapped about it, trying to make it seem less of a big deal for him, you lifted his chin to face you. he instantly softened, his words faltering as you looked down on him.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"you can call me, mommy, more often if you'd like to, baby... i really don't mind." you reassured in a low voice.

curly was uncertain, but his ocean doe eyes remain glued to your deep gaze. he swallowed, "are you sure? you don't have to put up with it if you don't really like it, honey, it's okay—"

you softly hushed him, thumbing the golden hairs scattered on his cheek. "no, i mean it." you paused, hoping the following words sounded smooth, "...mommy thinks it's genuinely cute when you call me that."

curly squirmed. a whimper resided in his throat, but, as the rumbling of your voice trailed down his spine, he let a quiet, high-pitch moan escape his lips.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

for a man who presents himself as someone very self-assured, he does have a hard time accepting that you were really okay with it.

however, when his hesitancy eases into normalcy, he's calling you 'mommy' and 'mama' in every other sentence. if not, all his sentences.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"hey, mommy, where'd you put my mug?"

"mama, you need to stop sleeping so late. it's bad for your health." (he's a hypocrite and he knows it).

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

curly's voice was naturally deep, saccharine sweet, and a bit raspy at times. but, when he called you by your motherly petnames, he'd go an octave softer, especially as the night came to a close and sleepiness was taking a toll on him. he'd sound a little dumb and incoherent, but the bass in him remained strong.

he still calls you by the classic petnames, mainly 'darling' and 'honey' since those are his other personal faves. though, minutes prior to work, he'd try to use your actual name or settle with 'babe,' so he doesn't accidentally call you 'mommy' in public. it was deeply personal for him, and if someone like jimmy caught wind of that, it would greatly upset curly, even though he would very likely tell you it was fine (just so you wouldn't chew jimmy alive).

so, when YOU began calling him, 'daddy,' it sent his mind into a haywire. (how it happened is in the nsfw section!)

he loved the safety of calling you his mommy, how it relieved the weight of his captain duties and the thoughts burdened in his mind. but, with his newfound title, he'd flip between feeling secure in your protection to wanting to do nothing but protect you. not from any real danger, perse, but, moreso, caring for each other's well-being when either of you wanted to indulge in a little less control.

it made sense that even you, the commanding leader who enjoyed delegating and dominating others (other than him), needed a break from your responsibilities and wanted curly to take the wheel for a change.

you both took turns pampering one another. he would do everything you wanted, and made sure to wrap you in his big, strong arms by the end of the day.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"rest your pretty head for me, okay, mommy? daddy's got you..."

he brought the back of your hand to his lips and kissed it deeply, thumbing your knuckles with his large, calloused fingers. with his other arm, curly pressed your waist closer to his, letting you relish in his warmth.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

when it was his turn, a long snuggle session, loads of praise, and kisses in every place was all he needed (don't forget to call him your good little boy! he needs his mommy's praise after a rough day at work).

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"honeyyy, i've called you 'good boy' like 24 times in a rowww...!" you whined. of course you didn't mind peppering kisses on his face with the same adoring name over and over again, but now, he was just getting greedy.

curly giggled, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he softened his sea blue eyes, "just ooone more, pleaaase, mama? please...?"

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

he loved how reliable the term 'daddy' felt. it gave him a little ego boost. he's always had a pretty good relationship with his masculinity, but this just added onto that like a good affirmation.

the way his mind would get so lost in replaying how you two back-and-forthed with your respective petnames. it felt like he was role-playing his future family with you in real time.

★ extras.

it became an ongoing joke with the crew, especially with daisuke. whenever you'd tell him to get back to work, he'd drawl out a long "okayyy, mommmm," but quickly apologized after swansea smacked the back of his head.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"tch, don't talk to your captain like that."

"ach! i'm sorry, I'M SORRYYY—i was kidding!!!"

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

anya found it silly, never really saying anything like daisuke, but since you two became good friends (both because you guys genuinely clicked and were the only women on board), she had a knack for teasing you about it. she knew something more was going on between you and curly. so, maybe, just maybe, during a psych eval, you eventually spilled to her about your relationship.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"hehe, called it."

"seriously?! how?"

"y/n... it's so obvious. i've seen you guys sneak into each other's rooms."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

swansea didn't care. he was an actual dad, after all, and practically everyone he knew eventually became a parent one way or another. though, if you felt comfortable enough with swansea and told him about your relationship, he surprisingly wouldn't mind giving you two a piece of advice. how to keep a long-term marriage? dude's been with his wife for over 40 years and counting. raising children? please, he's done it twice. unclogging the toilet after your kids threw your deodorant down the drain? don't ask, just listen. you're much better off not knowing how.

whatever it is, ask away, but don't expect anything easy on the ears. swansea gives advice in poetic prose that borderline sounds like he's taking a jab at you.

truthfully, jimmy is somewhere in between being deeply irritated by the both of you and not giving two shits. he hates how you're sort of a curly clone, in the sense that you're also a high-performing person that everyone adores to work with. but, what's worse, is that you're so much harder to get mad at and are 100% capable of calling out his ass.

he's had to catch himself from saying anything too mean to curly multiple times. he knows he's easily replaceable, he's the janitor for god's sake, and if he said too much in front of you, he knows you'd tell pony express to fire him on the spot.

but, if we're assuming that jimmy is mentally better in the head, he'd eventually get over it and shrug off your guys' relationship, not wanting to grow envious as he does by default.

nsfw.

★ mommy.

it didn't surprise you that curly loved calling you 'mommy' in bed too. he'd always say, "mommy, you're so beautiful", "m-mommy, it's too tight...!" and when he gets overwhelmed, he'd become so dazed as his dick ached, crying because his mama felt so good.

he was like pavlov's dog, only the bell was your petname and you were the meal. if either of you were ever so slightly horny and everyone was stowed away in their quarters, hearing 'mommy' reverberate out of your mouth had him squeezing his thighs.

however, he's gotten used to mostly keeping it in his pants. not letting himself get needy when it's used casually. otherwise, he'd cease to function.

he loves it when you ride him, he gets all whimpery and brain-dead, begging his mama to let him cum out of his "little" boy dick.

all he wanted was his mommy to use him, make him so overstimulated until all that was left in his empty head was you.

sometimes, he loved the feeling of reaching his orgasm more than the orgasm itself. it's that momentary numbness he gets that he enjoys chasing, how every single thought completely disappeared, leaving him into nothing but a panting mess — all of him leaking out of his cock.

★ daddy.

one night, you were laying on curly, sitting upright. he held you in his arms as you spread your legs far and wide, toes digging into the mattress, gripping onto curly's biceps for support.

and, just like curly when he called you 'mama' for the first time, you accidentally slipped out a "daddy—!" as he fingered you, knuckles-deep.

you suddenly went quiet, quickly covering a hand over your mouth.

curly's eyes widened, his fingers stilled inside of you as his heart raced in his chest... he didn't expect it, but his shock washed into dominance.

he pulled out his fingers, his tone more stern and husk as he whispered, "say that again."

you whimpered, the loss of fullness making your thighs shudder. without a single thought, you called him daddy again, and again, and again... until he flipped you onto your stomach and was back to toying with you, digging into your insides at much greater speeds than before.

when you began regularly using it, he'd grow so romantic and reserved, wanting to take his time to just worship you—peppering deep kisses from head to toe—because in his eyes, you were the most precious person in existence.

he's never rough unless you tell him to be or he knows that it'll make you cum even better, but this man just loves to be slow and sensual. it's his go-to speed.

his favorite thing to do is coo at you, asking if you like how daddy is loving you or if daddy's doing a good job at touching your little hole. even when he's assuming a dominant role, he wants your reassurance.

curly is never mean. he only likes to light-heartedly tease you whenever you'd whine for him to keep going. other than that, he was heavy on his praises, loved complimenting you till you were blushing all over.

★ taking turns.

now, you guys would call each other 'mommy' and 'daddy' regardless of the dynamic, but if either of you felt more subby, you'd settle for the classic, 'good girl,' and him, 'good boy' (or any other submissive petname you prefer).

if you're domming and he's subbing, he wants you to use up all of his cum for your pleasure. he hopes you'll let him spill all that's left in him for hours on end.

however, most of the time, he's not really built for that, only able to handle a little over a round. so, to make up for it, he'll let you get him all pent up and force him to hold it in, using his desperation as energy to serve you.

the longer you left him like that, the faster his licks and finger-fucks became.

if you're cruel, making him rut into you would send him shaking. he'd struggle so hard, needing to take breaks as he alternated between slow and steady thrusts to rough humps according to what you ordered... oh, tears were definitely rolling down his cheeks.

(don't worry, he's not hurt. it's just a lot for him to physically handle. but, for you, he'd withstand anything!)

on the off-chance that he has the energy to go longer, he wants you to use him in all positions with only a minute to breathe after each cum. he wants to lose it, make him sweaty and breathless, please. turn him into a pathetic display only for your eyes to see.

if he's domming and you're subbing, he finds it fun to deny your orgasm, loving how surprised you get whenever he'd lift your vibrator off your clit or leave his dick in you, barely moving an inch. but even then, he quickly caves in and lets you have your way because nothing turns him on more than you cumming and crying for your 'daddy.'

he doesn't do that to hurt you, after all, he hates the mere possibility of even remotely making you uncomfortable. but, when he asks whether or not mommy misses his fingers, and you'd mewl in agreement, he can't help himself from edging you.

★ curly thinking of you. (extras).

he jerks off to the idea of breeding you.

but, even though it gets his dick all wet, he won't re-enact it just yet. he doesn't want to accidentally impregnate you when neither of you were ready—especially since you're the one carrying.

even if you were incredibly horny and adamant on it, he'd keep his rationale.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"mommy... i'm not cumming inside you." he chuckled, shaking his head with his tone, firm. you whined, "but, why not?" a needy frown formed on your lips, "i just want to feel good, daddy. you said i could...!"

you grinded down on his boxers, wetness seeped through the fabric of your panties. curly stifled a groan as he felt your clothed folds slide against his tip, drenched in his pre-cum.

"i know, mommy, i know... daddy'll take care of you soon, i promise... but i'm not risking anything, okay?" he pressed a kiss on your forehead, thumbing circles on your stomach with his hands gripping your waist. "it's for your own safety, mama."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

but, since this was all in his head, he could indulge in it as much as he wanted.

curly loved remembering the way your cum dripped out of your hole, how softly your pussy parted. it made him wish it was his, wanting to fill you up and let his mess soak up inside you.

he wished he could finger it back into you—or, even better, tongue-fuck it in. the thought of having you sit on his face with him lapping his cum into your walls, as you rubbed your clit against the end of his nose got him all hot and bothered.

with his hand pumping himself from base to tip, he'd think of you laying down on your back, wrapping your legs around curly's head as you pushed his mouth further into you. he'd moan into your pretty parts, purposefully deepening it so his voice would vibrate all over your pussy.

[holy shit, i wrote so much. thank you for reading all the way ♡ let me know if you guys want more captain! reader and/or mommy/daddy kink! curly —iris🌠]

#🌠 leads to my masterlist #whew had to edit it since i accidentally deleted a chunk 💀 but all is saved #hopefully i wrote everything in?#curly mouthwashing #curly x reader #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing #captain curly #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing

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