#i just think he deserves a snack

[evilevilevilnotevilevilagain]

Im SO UNWELL ABOUT THIS MAN(?)....

[otto-doctavius]

wade wilson body worship. can anyone hear me

[fbfh]

Hi, how are you?? Currently can't get Logan's sexy ass surprising me with a Birkin out of my head, if you could write something with this that would be amazing!!! Love ya sm btw.

BABES ISTG WE ARE ON THE SAME WAVE LENGTH. literally Logan is so hnnnng. you just wanna bite him. he wants to bite you. you're catching up between classes and he very casually goes "oh, I think this is for you, ace..." and hands you this bigass orange shopping bag. you look at him and he watches you fight a smile.

"go on, open it." he encourages, surprised at how excited he is to see what you think. You dig through the tissue paper and pull out a huge orange box wrapped in black ribbons, and within that is the most beautiful bag you've ever seen. you've drooled over them in fleeting moments, an ad here, a magazine there, but you never ever thought you would have one. at least not so soon. you're still in college, and now you're holding a crisp, fresh birkin that smells like new leather and cold department store air.

"oh... my god!" you exclaim. he starts to ask if you like it, even though he knows you do. before he can get the words out, you've thrown your arms around him hugging him more tightly than ever.

"oh my god I love it! thank you-" you exclaim, your voice muffled into his neck as you punctuate your gratitude with kisses. he laughs. he actually lets out a giggling, bubbling laugh. he can't remember the last time he laughed like that, felt like this. if you start to feel guilty, or like you couldn't possibly accept it, he'll stop you right there. "if you keep that up, I'll buy you one in every color." and it works because of course it does. it's Logan.

that almost immediately becomes your favorite bag. you use it every day for everything. Logan watches in loving admiration as it follows you on dates, on nights at his place, nights at yours. he watches fondly as the leather grows less stiff, as it gets little wrinkles and crinkles. he watches as you tie a ribbon onto the handle, and later when some stickers show up on the side. he loves ever sign of wear and tear, ever sticker and stain and keychain it collects, becuase each new mark means you've spent more and more time together.

normally time progressing spent with one person would freak him out. it would make him feel suffocated, get itchy feet. but not with you. not with your birkin. he starts looking forward. he's determined to make it to the day, to be the one to replace it for you when you decide it's finally on its last legs. he wonders if that's what marriage feels like, what it's like to start a family. to feel so nostalgic for how things were but so eager to how things will be, all while soaking up every moment of exactly how they are.

he thinks he could do that. he wants to do that. with you.

[spotaus]

Hi guys, this is usually what a doodle page ends up looking like <3 (oh, and @ancha-aus thought you might like this! Not writing but certainly fuel to my fire lol-)

This one is New Age filled!!! (Close-ups abd Lore beneath the cut!)

1) Night and Cross!

Night is actually very clingy once he's a teen. He doesn't usually realize it, but around the castle he'll snake to be closer to his Knights so long as there's no one he needs to keep his composure infront of is nearby. Cross is the one who's not used to physical touch (when it's not Ink ofc) so Night in his personal bubble makes his heart melt but also scares tf out of him <3

2) Error and Night's Meeting!

Error was carrying his whole life on his back and trying not to get arrested for unintentional property damage at this point, so when he saw the chance to get back at his brother and prove he was strong enough? Yeah, he got that on chance instantly. And was VERY smug when Nightmare chose him. (Also, Error is wearing gloves, so less Haphephobia)

3) Dream and Blue designs!

I think these are good tentative designs! Dream probably has a more regal fit, but he likes to play up that rugged exile look- He's inspired by Archers, while Blue takes on that classic Knightly-vibe. Their equipment is mostly stolen from Night's troops or brought with them from Blue's home kingdom.

Also, Dream is approx Killer's height at this point, shorter than Cross and *much* shorter than Apple!Nightmare. (Hc that Skeletons tend to be tinier in stature thanks to weird monster beauty standards. Horror and Geno's fam are outliers.)

4) Horror and Dust designs!

Horror is naturally a very *large* monster. He's very malnourished when Nightmare meets him, but by the time he's a Knight Nightmare has made sure that's no longer the case. He actually loves comfy, simple clothes, but to play up the whole 'strong mysterious' bit he wears a more barbaric Knight's garb. He doesn't mind acting scary, it's more fun that way :]. Dust is very very small, and envies horror sometimes for his size, but his tiny stature let's him control his body and move a lot quicker. He's very much based on a rogue, and usually covers the lower part of his face w/ a black cloth, and the upper part w/ his hood or mask. Dust only removes both to bathe, eat, or relax in a safe location. (Ignore that I can't draw the stupid gaster blaster lmao-)

These last two were space-fillers, but Cross and his Borzoi (Windmill, otherwise known as Milly (Killer named her-)) and really bad first wips of Ccino! I think Ccino was a chubby, happy toddler, but lost a lot of 'weight' (bone mass? Magic?) due to stress and pressure and bad eating habits. So it isn't until a while after the Coronation that he starts to relax abd feel safe enough to eat normal meals (Nightmare used to guilt him into eating snacks together, but as his boss (and younger brother) he can encourage it more often). By the time Killer shows he's still not quite healthy, but he's better. As more weight is lifted off his shoulders, the better he is. (That 'beauty' most people saw was a more stereotypical slimness, but Killer never stopped seeing Ccino as beautiful-) I think he never looked traditionally underweight, so no one noticed, and it was only much later that Night processed it. (And maybe it's why Dream hardly recognized him later on-)

[snowyh2o]

There is nothing funnier to me than going to the comment section of a hazbin hotel video of some sort and just seeing all the YouTube comments calling Alastor evil or the evilest or the greatest evil there is.

[soft-serve-soymilk]

BATTLE IN THE CENTRE OF THE MIND CONTINUES TO BE ONE OF THE MOST TROPES EVER

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

jensen sitting on the floor eating cherries post autism meltdown

[dmclemblems]

Another thing worth mentioning about Claude's relationship with his parents: despite his feelings of admiration for his mother and despite remembering the bedtime stories his father told him, he still never writes to them. He can contact Nader no problemo (can even have him IN FODLAN, and for extended periods of time!), but his supports with Hilda also show off that he's so disconnected from his parents he's actually not even sure they're still alive.

Claude: Well, that's a fine thing to do, regardless of your reasons. As for me, it's been far too long since I've written to my parents...

Hilda: Oh? I thought your father had died.

Claude: Not quite. He's still alive and kicking...as far as I know. 

So on top of the Horse Incident... the "deal with the assassins yourself tiny child" thing... the fact that Claude ran away without telling his dad (if we go by Hopes) and without his mom seeming to give a shit that he's leaving all by himself... the act that going by Hopes Daddy-o is doing Literally Nothing about his children trying to violently invade his lover's homeland, and nothing about his children trying to murder each other for his throne... yeah these two are incredibly shitty parents, Gilbert could never dream of being this bad lmao.

But like, I also kinda like how... real? I guess? Claude's reaction to this is. He loves his parents, and he'll have open admiration for at least his mother, but then he starts talking about the other stuff and it's like "oh, that sounds like an abuse victim." Hearing him talk about how he "deserved" to either be dragged around by a horse or helplessly tied to its saddle as it runs around (depending on which version) shocked me when I first heard it, because "I was being bad I deserved to get hit by my parents" is such a huge red flag hearing someone say.

Plus how fondly he looks back on that memory - like you said, he was probably so elated to have his parents pay attention to him that the means in what they did so literally meant nothing to him (and could also tie into why he remembered those bedtime stories so well; another rare moment of his parent's attention being given to him) And him making the active effort to not talk to his parents once he ran away makes it so much worse, and hearing him still hold such fondness for them anyway in his A support with Byleth is almost more sad than it is endearing.

I'm honestly also surprised that the fandom just never acknowledges this? They act like Claude's parents are so cool for the most part, when his are legit some of the worst 3H has to offer and he's such a clear case of an abused child it's not even funny.

For real lol. People bash Gilbert for leaving his family while completely ignoring all the context about why. Meanwhile they celebrate badass Almyran king and queen despite that they’re horrible to Claude and probably all of their children as far as the king goes.

I also appreciate how Claude’s situation is complicated regarding his parents. Even abused children can still love their parents and it’s a very difficult situation. It’s a cycle of being abused then the parents will do something nice for the child, and that child believes they love them now and will be nice to them going forward. When that doesn’t happen, they remember the good things and try to tell themselves that their parents aren’t all bad and that there’s good in there. They love them for the nice things they do and tend to want more of it, so they stick around hoping to see that more.

Once Claude got old enough I’d imagine he probably realized it wasn’t normal and decided enough was enough. Even if he just wanted attention from his parents, I’m sure he could only take so much of what he went through between the assassinations and nobody really caring about him. Hilda was right to be shocked and horrified at what Claude went through, because that’s just... not normal. Also, if a child comes to believe they deserved the treatment, it’s because the parents made them think they deserved it and the child starts to accept it even if the punishment is reprehensible.

Even though Claude tends to brush this stuff off like it’s all in the past, it’s clearly affected him and his ability to trust people and form emotional connections. Like I said above, he remembers the good things fondly because it was the only positive attention he could get. He doesn’t fondly remember being punished and just speaks casually of it, but he shows no happiness for it. I’m sure Tiana does love him, but it also sounds like she either is afraid to go against her husband’s ways or just changed for the worse. Maybe the king does also love Claude, but it doesn’t excuse how terribly he treated him. Fact is, you’re only a child once and once you’re scarred from your childhood, you can’t just fix that.

Him not talking to his parents after leaving is a good step forward for him tbh. Cutting off contact regardless of how “sad” they might be is what you have to do in that situation. It’s like when toxic parents want their children to live with them to use them for selfish reasons, and they gaslight their kids so they can get what they want and be controlling. In that situation all you can really do is cut them out of your life. Of course, there’s always the whole giving them another chance in the future kind of thing, but if they continue acting like that then you cut them out permanently.

In Claude’s case I think he did the right thing to leave his father hanging like that, because boo hoo the king is so sad he can’t rule properly, but how do we not know that wasn’t intentional acting so that hopefully the information would reach Claude that he was acting like that? Maybe he could make Claude feel bad and come home... and the cycle would just continue. When parents act sad like that and “miss” their child despite having previously abused them in any form, it’s usually meant to manipulate the child’s emotions and make them come back. If your kids are trying to kill each other for whatever reason, how does that not make you more depressed than your most abused and bullied child running away from home and getting away from all that?

Personally I never found his stories about his life to be endearing. I found all of it to be depressing and upsetting. He may be older in the time of the game and know how to better manage that stuff, but it’s always worth noting that he was just a little boy when all this happened to him. Kids can get scared so easily and yet he acts like none of it actually really affected him, despite that any child being put through all that would traumatize them. All of that shows in his personality through his relationships and his inability to notice he’s pressing too hard on someone’s emotions until after it’s already done. He’s literally still in the learning process of how to understand other people’s emotions at the age of 18.

Having any fond memories of his abusers is exactly what a lot of abuse victims go through. I’m honestly shocked most of the fandom doesn’t look at his experiences as being legitimately terrible. His parents aren’t cool or badass. They’re terrible parents and not people who even deserve to call him their child. They certainly didn’t treat him like parents should treat their children. No child should be growing up in those circumstances.

The funny thing about the whole “bad parent” thing with Fodlan’s parents is that with Faerghus, they’re not only pretty decent parents, but then you get Matthias, who, well, more or less neglected his children (rather than abused them). Difference being, in Hopes he actually admits to knowing he was a bad father to Sylvain (and presumably Miklan who is still alive and well in that timeline as it’s GW he says this to Sylvain in). Then you have Lambert, who Rodrigue believes Dimitri losing would be horrible for Dimitri. Lambert decides that if he does die, he can safely leave Dimitri to Rodrigue. He had an idea, some sort of plan, if he were to die where his child would be safely in the care of someone who loved him. Rodrigue loved Glenn so much that he never stopped looking for answers about Duscur, coming across all kinds of valuable information about things that didn’t concern Glenn simply because he was distraught and had to know why his son had to die that day (and no, it wasn’t because he was a true knight. That was Rodrigue’s distressed way of coping. When he was in a better state of mind, he investigated the situation to get real answers. That’s the proof he wasn’t satisfied with the idea of leaving it at “Glenn was just doing his job”). Regarding Felix, Felix was the one who didn’t want to talk to Rodrigue, so Rodrigue backed off and let his son have space, but always looked out for him and tried to get closer to him. There was only so much he could do, but he did what little he could because he cared about Felix, even if Felix would walk away mad. Rodrigue just wanted his son in good hands.

That’s a pretty massive contrast to leaving your child vulnerable to assassins who are also partially your other children by not protecting him. Faerghus’ fathers would 110% absolutely have someone’s head for trying to harm their child, much less kill their child. No child deserves to have to fight their own battles, and no child deserves to have to rely on themselves to survive. Even with animals, you see the mother raise her young until they’re old enough to leave their home. Birds, cats, rabbits, you name it. They take care of their babies and keep them safe at home until they’re old enough to wander and get their own food and live outside of a confined area for their safety. It’s pretty much instinctual.

If Claude were real, all the stuff he went through would be such a big deal. I wish more people saw that because it’s good writing as far as Claude is concerned, but it also means his parents weren’t as amazing as other people say they are. Notice how it’s always other characters talking about how great they are, but Claude never has very good things to say about them that extend beyond basically “look they gave me attention once or twice every half a year”.

[deathswcrn]

@apalestar asked...

[BRUSH + COPPER] - sender brushes receiver’s hair + sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood from 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒 [ accepting ]

There was something surreal about feeling someone else dragging the comb gently through her hair. Something about the action felt foreign, like no-one had ever touched her like that before in her life, and now here were narrow fingers holding her hair close to the scalp so the comb didn't tug. The edge of the blade, she knew that. The taste of blood in her mouth, she knew that too. Scuffed knees and twisted ankles were familiar friends also. This? The simple act of denying her unnecessary pain? She was frozen in place, intrigued and mortified.

It was probably for the best she was so still. Astarion's teeth in her neck were cold as ice, as sudden as a crack of thunder, but well-aimed. Being surprised by the bite was her request, to lighten the feeling of dreaded anticipation. She drew in a hiss between her teeth and tensed up - her right hand shot up to hold the side of Astarion's head, settling in his hair, steadying the both of them as she felt them sway.

For what felt like an eon, Astarion fed. She could feel his lips on her neck, the little noises he made, and she was hyperaware of every inch of his body. She was also hyperaware of her own body. Her heart was pounding in her ears, healthy and strong, a good pulse matched by quick little intakes of breath. Breina did not swoon, she was no fragile maiden, but she found herself wilting back against him as the world began to spin slowly, and knew the feast had to end.

"That's enough," she said, feeling at both too jumpy and also like she was depriving Astarion a proper meal, digging her nails into his skin as a gentle warning to back off. "Leave some blood behind for your favourite maniac, won'tcha?"

[junoskelton]

feeling real envious of my mans Robert from hit TMA episode Freefall rn

[angel---eater]

Don't know why when I switched in I immediately felt like I was dying, but I guess we're back in the fuckin' building again.

[yoohyeon]

.

[a-b-riddle]

Part 7

Can't stop thinking about how the 141 met reader

(she's a long one. not entirely happy with it either so may edit later)

No harm done yet.

You never saw Simon actually hurt anyone. Johnny and Kyle would share stories about poor recruits who fucked around and eventually found out that Simon had no issue beating them within an inch of their life.

You knew he had a reputation and, like the rest of them, had blood on his hands. But it never bothered you. Didn't make you think twice about loving him or seeing him as the protector he had always been to you. To be frank, you could never actually picture any of them being violent.

But his voice... Fuck. His voice. It fucking rattled you. You actually feared for those fucking idiots now. Sure, they deserved to have their asses kicked, but an ass-kicking was probably going to be a welcomed after thought to whatever Simon would do.

You rinsed off, not bothering to wash your hair, but needing to wash up before getting in the bed. Hoping the scalding hot water washed away the uneasiness on your skin that had began to settle into your bones.

Even feeling fresh and laying in clean sheets, you still found yourself tossing and turning wondering exactly what did Simon do?

Did he walk away? Realizing you weren't worth the trouble, did he just tell them to knock it off?

You had stupidly expected Simon to check in. To check if you made it home alright or at least to let you know he was okay. So you waited... And you waited. You had half a mind to call him yourself before remembering it wasn't your place anymore to care. You had cared enough for the five of you.

It was well past two in the morning before you finally called it a night.

The next morning, still nothing from Mr. Riley. Not a 'did you home alright?' or 'are you okay?' text. Nada. Zilch.

Whatever.

Fuck him.

You had to open up shop, but luckily your Saturday mornings were much more relaxed. The shop wouldn't be open until 10, so you had the time to sleep in and enjoy the morning.

By noon, Mere had sent you several texts reminding you that you had promised to go out. You had tried to dissuade her. The encounter with those men last night had brought back sour memories. One involving handsome men coming to your rescue when it was most certainly needed.

You had tried to bail. Giving her any excuse you could: Last night put you on edge. You no longer wanted to go out. After last weekend, you just needed some down time.

Eventually you had realized she was not taking no for an answer after she had shown up to your apartment, already ready for a night out.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Mere asked. Mere was in her usual Saturday femme-fatal attire. The black leather pants that accentuated her curves and red corset paired well with her freshly box dyed color black hair.

She looked more like a dominatrix than someone who worked at an attorney's office. Even if both professions included bending someone over and fucking them for all their worth. You wondered who would charge more by the hour....

You had pulled out a off white lace square neck top and a pair of high waisted medium washed baggy jeans. A perfectly cute outfit for a night out. Which was your defense when she had suggested you needed to change.

Tab had arrived later than expected (something about a system being down at work), but made up for it by bringing a pre-game snack. Yes, you had officially reached the age where you no longer starved yourself hours before going out to get more drunk quicker and cheaper. No you had to eat carbs or else you wouldn't be able to leave your room the next day as you pathetically nurse a hangover.

Tab wore a denim skirt. If you could even call it that. It paired well with the white tank top that you could make out the shape of her nipple piercing.

But they looked hot. Really hot.

"This is a perfectly acceptable outfit."

"For a day at market, not for trying to get laid."

"I don't want to get laid." You said, rummaging through your closet, yet again. "Getting laid is what got me in this mess in the first place."

A little over two years ago

"Fuck him." Tabitha wrapped her arms around your shaking body as you continued to sob. "He was a prick who didn't fucking deserve you."

"He couldn't even get you to cum." Mere felt the need to remind you as if that would somehow lessen the blow of your heartbreaking into a million shards. The shrapnel feeling like it would kill you.

"I loved him," your voice is small. "I fucking loved him." You had been dating for almost three years. You had his grandmother's ring on your fucking hand for God's sake. "I'm so stupid."

"You are not stupid." Tabitha gave you a squeeze. "He was a liar and a fucking coward." Meredith rubbed her thumb on you bare leg, offering physical reassure. Letting you know even if she wasn't the hugger Tabs was, she was still here.

"You can't keep locked up in this apartment." She was unfortunately right. You had not only barricaded yourself in your apartment for two weeks, but you hadn't returned to your bedroom. The scene of the crime. "You need to get out."

"Yeah," Tabitha rubbed your arm as if trying to coax you out your metaphorical shell. "Get some fresh air. We can go grab a treat. Maybe go out for some coffee." It didn't surprise you that Tabitha was offering a treat to entice you to leaving your sanctuary.

"I was thinking going to a bar." It also didn't surprise you that Mere offered her way of coping. Getting so drunk that you forgot what you even sad about. Or going out and finding someone to fuck the sadness out of her.

"Because getting alcohol in her system in this state is just what she needs." Tabitha was the mom of the group whereas Mere was the fun drunk aunt. They balanced one another out.

"Actually," you said, giving a pathetic sniffle. "Going out would be nice." Getting away from the apartment is what you need. And going out would be the excuse you would need to get yourself all dolled up.

What you hadn't planned for was getting so pissed that you had manage to breakaway from your friends. Searching for them in teh crowd of people. Failing and when you pulled out your phone were met with a completely black screen.

Dead. Perfect.

The same moment you swore the night couldn't get any worse, it did.

He looked the same. Same as he been four months ago when he asked you to become his wife. Same as he had been two weeks ago when you had caught him fucking another girl. The girl he told you not to worry about. The girl he insisted was just one of the guys. A girl you had told him time and time again would fuck him the moment she had the chance.

It wasn't always great to be right.

When your eyes connected, your body had went into immediate flight mode. Every neuron in your body was shooting out signals of RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN. So that's exactly what you did.

You fucking bolted.

Or felt like you bolted. But you could only scurry so fast in chunky heels while simultaneously pulling down your skirt that had decided to ride up. Aching to show your ass for all of London to see.

You had made it a quarter of the way back to your apartment. Your feet aching. Toes pinched together from the strap digging into them.

"Baby, please!" You heard him before you felt his arm clamp down on your shoulder. Hard. When did his touch become something heavy? Something that practically burned you.

You turned. Eyes brimming with unshed tears as you hissed at him to leave you the fuck alone. The begging came, but you turned around. Determined to go home. He didn't deserve the chance to explain himself and he could most certainly shove his apology up his ass.

He wouldn't shut up. Insisting it was a mistake. A one time thing her fault. How she seduced him. As if he were the victim in all of this. You weren't buying it. Not for one moment. One doesn't accidentally invite some slut over and fall balls deep into her while they are in the same bed he shares with his fiancée.

It wasn't until you were in a more dimly lit area that he had gotten the nerve to grab you. His grip was firm on your arms as he held you in place. "Listen to me!" His voice was panicked.

The feeling of anger slowly began to dim as something else began to rise.

Fear.

You were afraid.

You were in a part of town not many people were out and about in at this time of night. No bystanders to really take note of the scene, or at least not any caring enough to stand by and watch; even for entertainment.

Your friends didn't know where you were at and you were tipsy. And alone.

"Cardan," you swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "Please let me go."

"Not until you talk to me," his fingers dug into you. "We can work this out, okay? It was one mistake." He tried to argue, his voice rising, soaked in desperation. "What's one mistake compared to three years?"

"Cardan," you tried to pull away, his grip only tightening. "You're hurting me." It came out as a pathetic whimper. You were so close to crying, too afraid to scream.

"Hey!" A voice barked from behind you. It caused your whole body to stiffen."Get your fucking hands off her. Someone noticed. Someone was here. Someone was here. Someone was here.

"We are having a conversation." Cardan's eyes left you, looking at whoever stood behind you.

"The lass said to leave her be." Another voice. Someone else. Two (three if you counted yourself, but in that moment you couldn't) people against one. There was no a possibility of you getting the fuck out of this situation.

Cardan stood firm. His eyes looking past you. A silent refusal to back down.

"Either you let her go," another voice. Another accent different that the first two. "Or we fucking make you."

"One against four. Odds aren't in your favor, mate." Four. Four men stood behind you. Faceless strangers there to help you.

"This doesn't concern you." Cardan bit out.

"Aye," Scottish. The second guy was definitely Scottish. "I think it does if she's tellin' ye' to piss off and yer bein' a bawbag about it."

"So what'll it be?" The third voice, deep and threatening, yet still so... calming. As if the vibrations from his deep, rich pitch washed over you.

Cardan looked back at you, his eyes not as manic. He realized he didn't have a chance. This was a fight he had to walk away from or else he wouldn't be walking away from it at all. "I'll swing by tomorrow, okay?" He asked.

You couldn't do anything, but nod. Agree that you could talk tomorrow in the safety of the sunlight. Eventually he walked across the street before fading out into the night. Blending in with the shadows.

You turned around to meet your would-be saviors.

Four men. All slightly older than you and so handsome you felt foolish for gawking at them as if this were your first time seeing a man. Hell, maybe it was. At least specimens like this. All of them tall and broad. Towering over you.

No wonder Cardan got the fuck out of there. Tabs was right. He was a coward.

"You alright?" The one who first spoke up asked. You could place his voice. Now just needed to place the other three. He had a hearty mustache and mutton chops. A look on any one else would make you immediately get the ick. But for a moment you wondered if that mustache would tickle... "Do you need us to call anyone?"

You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"I just want to go home." You said. "Thank you for stepping in. I don't know what would have-" You stopped. Too afraid to think about the possibilities. There was a time you would never believe that Cardan had the ability to hurt you.

There was also a time you believed he would never cheat. You weren't really sure what to believe anymore. "Anyway," you continued. "Thank you again." You turned on your heel before continuing your stride.

You had only made it several feet before you were stopped again. "Which way? One of us can walk you home." You weren't entirely sure. But with a dead cellphone and a unhinged ex probably lurking in the shadows, there was little time to weigh the pros and cons before giving them a general direction of where you lived.

Which just so happened to be the direction in which two of the four lived. The Scot and one of the two who had yet to speak. The first one, who had still yet to introduce himself instructed the two of them to drop you off and let him know you had made it home alright.

You had hoped that the rest of your night would be met with silence, but the Scot couldn't seem to help himself. "I'm Johnny." He introduced. "And the spooky, silent type is Simon." He gave a playful wink. You gave him your name, not wanting to be rude.

"Not my place to ask," he began. "But what was the deal with that fucker? Ex-boyfriend?"

"Johnny." Simon's tone held warning. You appreciated the defense, but frankly didn't care. These were strangers. Who cared what they thought.

"Ex-fiancée," you clarified. "One who decided to fuck another girl in my bed. Not even our bed. My bed."

"Jesus fucking Christ," the Scot swore. "I was right. He was a fucking bawbag." For whatever reason, that made you laugh. For the first time in two weeks you fucking laughed. And it felt like you were breathing again.

Simon was quiet, not contributing to the conversation and just letting Johnny babble. Talking your ear off in a short trek as if it were an olympic sport.

You were so distracted with his voice you hadn't realized how far you had made it until the sound of your keys clattering onto your kitchen counter brought you back.

Back to a situation you didn't know how the fuck you landed in.

Two men (who you don't know) are in your apartment. Your friends don't know where you are. You are a little bit too inebriated to plan and exit strategy. Doesn't exactly help your confidence in fighting them off since they are built like fucking brick houses.

"He won't come sniffin' around here botherin' ya, will he?" Simon asks, speaking for only the second time since he had threatened Cardan. You shake your head.

"No," you said. "I have him blocked on everything. So I think when he saw me tonight it was just kind of an opportunity, I suppose?" You offer. Cardan had showed up to your place one time with a random assortment of flowers and a useless apology you had to hear through the door as you covered your mouth. Concealing your cries. Too afraid to let him know you were there.

Too afraid that some part of you would be weak enough to take him back.

"We'll leave ye' be." Johnny said, nodding his head toward the door. "But if he comes bein' a shite to ye again, you can give us a call."

"Phones dead." You explain, holding up your phone as if you needed to prove yourself. Johnny offered the brilliant, yet simple solution of giving him your number. He sent off a text, knowing it would be there when you turned back on and promising to check in later.

They both gave subtle nods of goodbye before turning away.

And just like that, they left. The door clicking softly shut behind them. You stood, frozen for several beats before walking over and locking the door.

You plugged your phone into the charging cable, waiting until it lit back to life before shooting off a text in your group chat with Tab and Mere.

Sorry I took off. Ran into Cardan and fucking made a dash for it. Sorry if I worried you. I'm at home. I'm okay. Grab lunch tomorrow and we can talk about it? My treat?

You signed off the text with a heart emoji and turned your phone on do not disturb. Too afraid of your friends going all Mama Bear on you for running away while drunk. Even if your reasons were valid.

You had texted Johnny again. Not because Cardan dared to bother you again, but to thank him. Acknowledging that not many men would have done for you what he and his friend did. Johnny assured you it wasn't anything.

Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out with Simon always tagging along. It took you a while to realize he did actually like you, but his stoic nature was just who he was. You had met Kyle and John, both as charming and respectful as Johnny and Simon.

John had been the first two mention wanting to take you on a date. It didn't go well with the other three. They all had the same intention and a rock, paper, scissors tournament seemed to juvenile to figure out who got the privilege in courting you. Eventually, they had decided to ask you.

Putting you on the spot to answer the question that had begun to tear them apart: which one of them will it be?

Johnny made you laugh. He was the first person you thought about calling when your day was a bit grey. He saw the positive in everything and was the one who made you feel like even the bad days weren't so terrible.

Then there was Simon. The one who you felt like was your safe place in body and mind. You would babble all day talking to him, thankful when he would let you rant. Your mind was able to go on auto-pilot in terms of safety because you knew Simon would handle it. He also gave the best hugs.

John was the one who instilled the confidence in you that you needed. Your bookstore, your writing, whatever aspirations you had, no matter how wild, John would support it. Nothing was too big. After you all started dating, he was the first person you ever let read your book. He gave you praise as well as critique, pointing out multiple plot holes and helping you craft it better. And never once taking credit for it, even when it was due.

Kyle was the most thoughtful one. He was the one who knew you liked trying knew things so he made an effort to always make date nights interesting. A new restaurant, a new activity or experience. He was the biggest giver of the group.

So when they did ask you, you answered honestly.

"I can't choose." They insisted that you didn't need to spare their feelings, but you stood firm in your decision. "No. I can't choose. I'm interested in all of you." When they pressed on why the fuck you didn't say anything earlier, you told them to avoid this kind of situation. Where you had to choose. You were fine continuing on as just friends if that meant you got to keep all of them.

Mere and Tabs were great friends, but they are the ones who helped pull you out of the slump. The ones who made you feel lovable. The ones who made you feel like a woman again.

"Helloooooo." Mere's hand waved in your face while another held something she had found in your closet. "So are you going to change or not?" Your eyes darted to the skimpy glittery black dress. The same one for your first date with them. Your stomach twisted as you took the sparkly dark fabric in your hand.

You nodded as if trying to shake the memory out of your mind. "I'll change and we can go." Better just to get it over with.

The place that Mere had dragged you to was a club that played music that you would only listen to while encapsulated in the aroma of cheap liquor and sweat. Your outfit form-fitting. The material too stiff to be comfortable, but it was cute. The hem of your dress coming to rest just below your ass cheeks. Hugging your body in a way that made you feel self conscious the moment you stepped out of your building.

Mere had run into some work colleagues. Names you couldn't and wouldn't remember. There had been a high profile divorce going on. Very messy. She had been so encapsulated by the gossip that she hadn't notice you and Tabitha had slipped off toward the bar.

Tabitha insisted on shots and you needed something to get your mind off the less than exciting night. Your expectations weren't high, but fuck. You would have been much more comfortable wearing the jeans. You felt like a piece of fucking meat. It would have been so bad if someone were gonna buy you a dr-

"This seat taken?" It was a cliche introduction attached to a slightly better than average face. Decent enough where it didn't hurt to look at him, but not attractive enough to be a seat.

"By all means," you said turning back to Tabitha who looked at the guy now sitting to your left and raising her eyebrows. Fucking hell. Not her too.

"It's pretty packed tonight." He commented, attempted to make small talk. You hated small talk. At least unless it came to Johnny who would get into discussion on politics, religion and why on the side was the best way to fuck because it gave him 'a perfect view of the front and back of ye.'

"You come here often?" You asked, not wanting to be a total bitch, but having absolutely zero desire to be entertaining him.

"When I can." He said. "I prefer the Artifact a couple of blocks down. Not many people heard of it. A bit of a hole-in-the-wall place." Oh cool. A fucking hipster who liked to act superior at knowing a place that is underground. You could feel any possibility of getting your pussy wet, dry at the thought of this man actually wanting to come onto you.

Jesus, when did you become so harsh.

I blame Simon.

"Oh," you say, no longer interested in entertaining the conversation. "Sounds lovely. My friend and I just came out for a bit of girl-" you turn to look at Tabitha who had somehow miraculously disappeared in the 45 fucking seconds that your back was turned....

Little bitch.

"Bathroom, I suppose." He laughed. It was the sincerity in his voice that irked you. God, why was he pissing you off just trying to start a conversation?

"I suppose." You gave a soft smile back, turning once the bartender had come over to grab your order. Which the stranger next to you had insisted buying. Nothing quite as arousing as obligated conversation.

"There's no need for that-"

"Percival." He introduced. "But my friends call me Percy." Your immediate thought was who the fuck names there kid Percival. The second was to offer him a fake name. Real enough to be believable, but fake enough where if he tried to search you up on any social media, you could just deny having any.

"I hate to be brash," he started. Then don't. "But I can't imagine a girl like you being single."

"Not really looking for anything romantic at the moment." You say, the first time you've been truthful this entire conversation. Percival leaned in closer, before asking in a low voice that he was doubt trying to convey as sexy, "Are you sure?"

And there it was. The final ick that nailed the coffin shut.

You offered in a soft smile before swallowing hard. "Percival,"

"My friends call me-"

"I'm going to be frank." Your voice is soft, as if explaining to a small child why we don't always get the things we want. "I just got of a very long and deep and meaningful relationship and the idea of being near another man in any intimate or emotional capacity wants me to cause very serious bodily harm to said man."

His expression fell.

"I appreciate your confidence in coming over here and making small talk, but if you're wanting to fuck me or even attempt to be friends, I must inform you that is no only not in the cards, but not in your best interest." You turned, downing the rest of your cocktail.

"Time for a trip to the bathroom myself, I suppose." You stood from your seat, having to readjust your dress.. "Have a good night."

You were washing your hands when a red-faced Mere walked into the bathroom. Tabitha on her heels with a concerned expression.

"What did you do?" Mere asked.

"What are you talking about?" You asked. You had half a mind to ask them why the fuck they pulled a disappearing act after insisting you go out.

"You told Percy you would castrate him?" You looked as if you had been slapped. The pieces falling into place to reveal a totally fucked up puzzle.

"You fucking tried to set me up." You seethed, a finger pointing accusingly.

"Well, fuck, what did you expect me to do?" She asked. "You were sulking."

"Listen to me!" You cried. "I want you to listen to me. I was with them for two years. It hasn't even been two weeks and you're going behind my fucking back and trying to set me up with fucking Percival? How the fuck do you even know him? Do you even know him?" She ignored your last question. How convenient.

"I thought it would be good to get it out of your system." She tried to defend, her pissyness now matching yours. "You always do this. I was just trying to help."

"What do you mean 'I always do this'?" Your eyes turned into slits.

"Why don't we just calm down and-" Tabitha tried to stop the escalation. Mere, very obviously, ignored that cue.

"You get so hung up on a guy, or in this case guys, it takes you fucking weeks to recover." You stare at her. Unsure if she was really comprehending the bullshit that had come out of her mouth.

"I'm certain you aren't trying to make me feel bad for grieving a relationship that I was in for over three years to a man I was engaged to. To find him fucking in my apartment, in my bed the same week I was going to get my wedding dress."

"It's not just Cardan," she went on. "Issac in our second year of school?" You gave a humorless chuckle.

"Oh yes," you said condescendingly, "the boy I had dated from 14-years old- until I was 19. The boy I gave my virginity two months before he told me he was not only not interested in me, but women in general." As if that somehow lessened the blow. "Absolutely shouldn't have bothered me a bit."

"You only went out for classes and food for two months!" She said as if you had hit a pedestrian with your car. As if you were a fool for being so distracted by a breakup you couldn't be bothered to carry on with life as normal.

"I'm sorry that I actually take the time to grieve my relationships." You said. "I forgot that it may be hard for either of you to comprehend what a relationship is like considering the only relationship either of you have is with your work or with each of us."

"Hey!" Tabitha said. "I understand your pissed, but there isn't need to attack us like this."

"Attack you?" You asked. "Attack you? This isn't me attacking you. This is me responding to an uncomfortable situation that you put me in. I told you I didn't want to even think about me. I didn't want to fuck someone else and you go and do this?"

"He seems like a decent guy." You roll your eyes.

"Probably why he's not your type, right?" Mere crossed her arms over chest. Eyebrow arched as if she were hoping the words enticed you to realize that you had a history of going after the wrong guys.

Unfortunately, it did not.

You sucked on your teeth, carefully choosing your words before World War III broke out in a nearly vacant bathroom in South London. You took a deep breath. Calming yourself as best as you could.

Before saying fuck it and letting it loose.

"Just because your idea of coping is getting drunk and fucking someone you plan on never speaking to again, quite literally discarding them like trash, doesn't mean the rest of us cope the same way." You hoped it hurt. You hope it stung the same way she had tried to sting you.

You had hoped that your word would be the final blow before both sides called a treaty.

"You mean like they did you?"

And just like that, you heart stuttered. A rapid dum dum dum in your chest as it had been tripped up by her words. The truth in them heavy. The shift in the air was almost immediate;.

"Sweetheart-" Tabitha had tried to reach out before you jerked away.

"Enjoy your night." You said, grabbing your purse where you had left it by the sink. "I'm going to go home and wallow in my self pity." You exited the bathroom, hearing your named called again before shifting it into gear and getting the fuck out of there.

Weaving through the sea of bodies like water flowing around rocks.

Who the fuck cares if you want to cry? To grieve? To be angry? To get closure? To move on? Who cares if you don't want to be the girl who gets her heart shattered and not fuck somone else? Who wants to feel the comfort of a familiar body, a touch that feels safe one last time before you go back into a world where you will only be touched by a stranger?

It didn't matter that you were the one to breakup with them, even if the relationship was broken. It's foundation cracked.

What did matter is that the people who should have supported you and in the way you were dealing with your loss in your own way, didn't. And that's the part that they seem to forget. It is a loss. It's mourning someone who hasn't died. Someone who is still living, yet still no longer there.

"Off already?" Percy cut in the way, blocking your escape. You weren't in the mood.

"Listen-" you started before he cut you off.

"Not anything romantic, I know," he raised his hands as if in defense, "but maybe like another drink or a dance?"

You closed your eyes, wanting to hold off starting a scene and tearing him a new asshole. "Like I said, not. interested." How much clearer could you spell it out?

"Come on." He said, his hand coming to rest on your hip. The grip on it weak. You were by no means the type of woman that could take on a man like the ones you still held in a chamber of your heart. But you could most certainly handle your own against Percival. "I'm asking for a dance. After what Meredith told me, I figured you'd be down for at a little more than that."

"I don't follow." Your blood ran cold. Your heart praying that any assumptions that were running through your mind were wrong, they were wrong.

"She mentioned you having a group of like guys you fucked, but stopped fucking." He shrugged, offering a coy smile that you ached to wipe off with the back of your hand. "I don't judge. It's kind of hot honest. Did they run train or-" You felt it then. His hand had traveled from your hip to the curve of your ass.

And you froze. You froze like a coward. Too afraid to speak or scream. Too ashamed to push him away, cause a scene.

But you didn't need to do any of that.

In an instant, Percy's hand was off of you. It took you a moment to realize that a figure dressed in black stood beside you. Your own personal grim reaper.

"Put him go!" You pleaded, breaking out of your trance. You took hold of his arm putting all of your body weight on his arm, trying to break his hold. He didn't falter.

You could handle you own against Percy.

But Simon could fucking kill him without breaking a sweat.

You looked at Simon's face. His eyes were darkened. The soft brown you had once loved staring into were now almost black. You could even make out the dark circles, even in the unsettling flickering of strobe lights in the club.

"You touch her again and I'll slit your fucking throat. Understood?" Pure venom fell from Simon's lips, but you knew he wasn't lying. Simon was the type of man who didn't say something he didn't mean.

You knew that all too well.

Percy choked out an ineligible, gurgled response as Simon's hand held firm on his throat. "He understands, goddammit, no let him down!" You ordered hitting at him as if it would stop him. "Simon, please!"

It was only when you said his name, did Simon loosen his grip. Letting Percy drop to a heap on the floor before he started a having a coughing fit, trying to suck in as much air as he could.

Simon looked down at you and the exit before scooping you up and hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of flower.

You wanted to die. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die and never show your face again.

"Get in the car." He at least had the decency to open the door for you. Simon wasn't a flashy man, by any means, but he was still a man. A men did love their cars.

He stood, waiting for you but you didn't move. You glared up at him. He had carried you out of there in the most humiliating way possible. You had to fight against the hemline of your dress or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.

Hand still on the door, he leaned down, getting closer and closer to your height. "You get your ass in this car right now," his breath warm against your ear. "Or I'll have you over my fuckin' knee." His tone was sharp. It wasn't seduction in form of a threat. It wasn't even a threat.

It was a promise.

"We're over." You reminded.

"Do you think that'll fuckin' stop me from spankin' some sense into your bratty ass?"

"It doesn't give you the right to fucking do that to people, Simon!" You huffed. "You could have killed in."

"Could have," he agreed. "But didn't. You're welcome." he nodded toward the car. "Now, in you go or I'll do it here. You already know I don't mind an audience."

The heated seats were a bit to warm for your liking against your bare ass. The tension in the air was uncomfortable. Your hands ached to touch the radio. Anything to stop the silence between the two of you.

"I got home fine the other night by the way." You said, looking out the window, hoping to make him feel like shit for not checking in like he should have.

"I know you did."

"What do you mean you know I did?" You asked, turning to look at him. He shrugged as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not stopping.

"Just did." Was his only answer.

"Are you fucking stalking me, Riley?" That made him laugh. You would have felt better if there was at least a sense of humor in it, but, instead, only disbelief.

"Oh, Riley now, is it?" He asked.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be." You caught it. A very small slip, but it was something... something you couldn't place.

"Then why?" You ask, your tone softening. "For someone who makes it very apparent to be done with me, you sure do show up at convenient times. Hard not to think your keeping tabs on me."

He didn't say anything. No explanation or excuse. Not evena smart ass comeback or remark.

His hands reached forward and turned on the radio, turning the volume just loud enough that if you were to try and continue the conversation, your words would be drowned out.

He pulled up in front of your building, yet you made no move to get out. You turned off the radio, soaking in the silence once more. You wanted to know why? Why was he appearing out of nowhere like a fucking ghost? Why was he helping you?

He sighed before putting the car in park and stepping out. Coming around to your side he opened the door. "Get inside. Go to bed." There he was again. Fucking bossing you around as if he still had a say.

You wanted to cuss him out. To spew hateful words just as he did you.

But you didn't.

You were tired.

So fucking tired. And the idea of going to bed did sound pretty good in that moment. You made it to the door of your building before he spoke again. "And if you need to out at this time at night call a goddamn cab."

"Why?" You asked, turning around. "Getting tired of having to follow me around on foot, Si?"

There was a pregnant pause. Neither of you speaking. His body shifted forward, as if contemplating getting closer to you. As if the pull you once had was still there.

With his eyes trained on you, you felt a chill run down your spine. Twice you had seen that look on Simon's face before. The look that he had given the figures concealed in the shadows last night. The same look he had given Percy.

Only this time, it was directed at you.

One that personified the saying, 'if looks could kill.'

"Because," he growled out, "the next time I find someone else touching you that way, I'll fucking kill them."

[bunnis-monsters]

I hope I'm not too late! For the 5K event (congratulations btw!!! You deserve all of them ^^), could my request be of a merman pod finding reader and deciding she needs to be their mate/breeding partner? I guess it'd be kind of a similar situation with the cow/bull hybrids?? I'm not sure how it'd go, but It can be as sfw or nsfw as you want (I deeply apologize if this exceeds 1k words. Of course you don't have to write this if you don't want to). Thank you in advance! ^^

A/N: my requests and commissions are closed for the foreseeable future, but my commission wait list is open! Consider reading my commission info and helping me out! Slots are limited, so get on the waitlist while you still can~

Warning: dubcon, breeding, virginity loss

It had been a normal day out on the water for you, swimming and splashing around in a small cove near your home.

Unfortunately(or maybe fortunately) for you, it was the spot where a pod of mermen spent their breeding season, relaxing and eating there before going out to try and find a suitable mate.

As you got ready to get out and go grab a snack from your cooler, you felt someone’s eyes on you…

When you turned to look, a head quickly dipped back under the water, and you felt your blood run cold when you spotted several dark shapes swimming in your direction.

Of course you immediately swam for the shore, afraid of it being a shark or some underwater predator. You were alone out there, and if you were eaten no one would ever even know.

Before you could stand to start wading through the now waist deep water, something grabbed your ankle, pulling you under.

You cursed yourself for not bringing your goggles, unable to open your eyes under the stinging, salty sea water.

You prepared for some kind of attack, hoping it wouldn’t be too painful… but nothing happened. Your body was gently lifted out of the water, and you felt something cool and smooth rubbing against your cheek… and your belly… and pretty much every part of your skin.

When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to see that you were surrounded by strange creatures, half human and half fish. They all were nuzzling their cheeks unto your flesh, some giving you soft licks as if inspecting you.

After thoroughly looking over you, they all began purring and trilling, some cooing as they set you on your feet. Getting a better look at them, you realized they were all handsome, and were all smiling as they surrounded you.

“A female in our cove? What luck!”

You were surprised when one of the creatures spoke, even more surprised when another responded with soft trills and clicks.

“Yes, she is quite warm… and so soft!”

The feeling of cool scales rubbing against your thigh made you yelp. One of their tails was curling around you, keeping you close and still.

“H-hey! What do you think you’re doing!?”

They all flinched when you raised your voice, their fins perking up. Some looked at you curiously, while some seemed a bit annoyed or afraid.

“Mmm? We’re preparing to breed with you. It’s not often a female is so close to our cove while it’s mating season.”

You nearly fainted, this was all too much. First you were having to accept the fact that mermen were real, which was hard enough by itself.

Now, these mermen that you just learned actually existed wanted to breed with you.

Another merman pressed against your back, letting out a soft coo as something sticky and hard slipped and rubbed between your thighs.

There was one in front of you as your thighs were fucked from behind. He examined your bathing suit, talking his head and pulling at the fabric curiously.

“Something to cover your mating slit? Perhaps human females are more cunning than I thought…”

He seemed to view the fabric as a separate layer of skin, his weighed fingers moving to trace over your clothed pussy.

The merman’s eyes went wide, and his finge red pressed against your clothed hole. “Warm… so warm…”

The feeling of his cool, webbed fingers moving over your warm pussy made you shiver and buck your hips uncontrollably. This made the merman purr in delight.

“Y-you can remove it… it’s clothing,” you said, panting softly. Honestly, it had been so long since you’ve really pleasured yourself, and you desperately wanted to get fucked stupid.

Your bathing suit was unceremoniously ripped off, and the pod gathered around you.

There were whines and hisses, each merman fighting over who got to breed you first.

It was finally settled that they would go from smallest to largest. A merman, a bit younger than the rest approached you shyly. He was excited, this would be his first time breeding!

He chirped at you, giving you puppy dog eyes as his cock bobbed up and down in need. It seemed this one couldn’t speak, possibly being new to human speech.

“Go on, just inhale her scent and your instincts will take over,” one of the merman said, encouraging the other as he placed a hand on your thigh.

His face buried itself in his neck, and as soon as he inhaled your scent his body stiffened and pressed against you.

The feeling of his cock struggling to find your hole, rubbing against you desperately made your heart throb. This merman was too cute!

You loved your hand down, the man letting out a nervous yet aroused trill when you helped to guide his cock to your entrance.

“There you go, baby… r-right there…”

He nuzzled his cheek against yours, the flesh slightly rough against your soft skin.

The second he sunk his cock into your cunt, he let out a groan, unable to stop his hips from rutting into you roughly.

You but your lip, trying not to make too much noise. The other merman moved in closer to watch, and they all seemed to communicate with the one mating with you.

“Warm? You said she’s warm there?”

“Oh… cum already, I want a turn!”

The first merman came, relaxing against you as your pussy was filled with his cum. The next was eager to get a feeling of your pussy, pushing the other out of the way before pushing in.

“Nngh… w-warm…” he gasped out, his body hands trembling as they grasped your plump hips.

None of them were used to fucking into something so soft and warm, mermaid were usually cold and rough… but god you were the complete opposite.

It was a breeding frenzy after that, each desperate to get their turn fucking that fat, warm pussy of yours. The sound of wet squelching and shameful moans and cries echoing through the cove.

After each had a turn, they returned you to the shore, leaving you with a freshly caught fish before they left to go hunt.

“We’ll be back by nightfall, mate!”

“Don’t enter the water until we’re home! We don’t want our scents attracting other competing males!”

They waved to you as they swam away… and you were looking forward the summer with your new pod of mates.

part 2? might make a little series based off this concept where you meet each merman and get to know them!

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine that ex-husband Gojo is baffled by you giving him the cold shoulder upon your return from your romantic getaway with his replacement.

As far as he knew, Satoru didn't bother you or anyone else (except Suguru) about his grief over this trip whatsoever. So why were you upset with him? Why aren't you back happy, well-rested, glowing, possibly with a ring? (Even if that last one would've broken Satoru for good.)

"Hey, did you-- Where'd she go?" Satoru popped his head into a classroom at the Kyoto school where he'd just finished a meeting. As soon as he opened his mouth, you took off out of the room's other door. Sen looks up unimpressed while his friends give each other a dubious look.

"That's her business," he grumbles.

You'd been dodging him for going on two weeks now and while Satoru's always had an unbreakable spirit, he was beginning to think that he should leave you well enough alone. Even after the divorce, you never avoided him like this.

Sen watches his father's face fall and morph into genuine sorrow.

'He doesn't deserve her anyway.' Sen reminds himself over and over again. Satoru mumbles an apology and turns to leave.

Hikari Higuruma and Naoki Zenin both kick him under their desks.

"Come on, man," Nao murmurs.

"Say something!" Hikari hisses.

Both of Sen's friends are the type to respond to "will you help me hide a body?" with "yeah, what snacks should I bring and how many shovels do we need?" With that in mind, their disapproval in this scenario seriously puts the situation into perspective for Sen. That, and he thinks his mother stands to lose the most if he doesn't speak up.

'Dammit,' Sen thinks to himself.

"Dad!" he barks. Satoru must've truly been deep in thought when the sharp crack of his son's voice is enough to make him jump. He turns and Sen leans back in his chair, trying to look nonchalant.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Sen says before thinking of a caveat. "This time." He may not know the details, but Sen at least knows you well enough that whatever happened on your couples' retreat had nothing to do with anything Satoru did.

Satoru looks hopeful. "Then what's--"

"Didn't I just say that's her business?" Sen snaps. "Go ask her if it's so important!" Satoru affords his son a small smile. There's a nonzero chance that he spoke up out of pity, but Satoru is sure the majority of Sen's motivation was for your sake. If there's anything without doubt in this world, it's Sen's love for you.

"Right." Satoru tosses a green packet to his son, who easily catches it in one hand. "Thanks anyway, kiddo!" Good thing he grabbed a pack of chocorooms the last time he was at the train station.

As Satoru leaves, Hikari snatches the pack from Sen.

"Oh, I fuck with these," she says, tearing the bag open.

Nao reaches over. "Hand those over!"

"No way, you're too slow!"

"Those are literally mine."

"Get off!"

Satoru smiles. His son was never as lonely as he was growing up and he never would be as long as those two were around.

Imagine ex-husband Gojo hearing your soft sniffles from inside a random storage closet. He hasn't seen or heard you cry in, what, fifteen years?

He softly taps on the door. "Hi," he murmurs.

The sniffling immediately stops as you contemplate the likelihood of him going away. But you know him like you know yourself and even if you don't let him inside the closet, he'd sit down and wait by the door until you're ready. And if you don't talk to him after that, he'd walk you home. And if you were silent the whole way home, he'd keep his mouth shut until you were ready.

And that just about sums up the kind of person your husband is.

Ex-husband. Fuck.

You reach out and unlock the door, which Satoru takes as his cue to come in and shut it behind him. Normally, he'd cup your face in his hands like you were the most precious thing in the world (you are, as far as he's concerned) and wipe your tears with his thumbs, but he can't do that now because you've been avoiding him for a while now and you may or may not be engaged to someone else.

"This is my own fuck up, Satoru," you tell him with a big sniffle. You try to collect yourself before tears start to fall again. Putting your face in your hands, you tell him, "You don't need to comfort me. This is my own fault."

Satoru takes your hands in his. He doesn't feel a ring and he hates himself for feeling hopeful about that.

"Did he propose?" he asks as neutrally as he can.

You rest your forehead against his chest. "He might as well have. He offered me a promise ring. It was beautiful. I couldn't have designed a better one myself."

Saying it out loud make the guilt even heavier.

Satoru isn't afraid of much, but he is afraid to ask, "And?"

"And." You purse your lips and he deserves eye contact right now, but you don't have the strength. "I couldn't accept it."

Satoru's heart skips a beat and he curses himself for it. But even he's taking aback. The perfect man just served himself to you on a silver platter and you said no?

"Oh," is all he can say.

You reply, "Yeah. Oh."

"Why?" he can't help but ask.

"Satoru, you know why."

"I promise you I don't."

It takes a moment for you to figure out how you want to say this, but you settle for short version.

"It's just." You breathe in his scent, as familiar to you as your own. He smells like coming home after a long trip and while hotels and AirBNBs and temporary homes may be nice and have all the luxuries, nothing beats returning to the space you cultivated for yourself. "Every day I'm not your wife is the worst day of my life. So no, I couldn't promise myself to someone else. And I feel like a bad person because I went on this trip knowing that there was a possibility he'd ask to make us official and I went anyway, and you know what he said to me after I said no?"

"What?" Satoru breathes out. His mind is still reeling from the first thing you said. About how much you hated not being his wife. And now all he could think about is that from the moment the word 'divorce' left your mouth all those years ago, he'd been sleepwalking through life sustained only by the brief moments he got to see you or hear of you or be reminded of you.

You fist your hands in his shirt. "He told me it was ok. That I don't owe him anything and he'll always cherish our time together." You shake your head miserably. "I never deserved him. There's no version of me that ever will, but I just can't be with him."

Satoru doesn't move. He'd let go of your hands when you grabbed his shirt and his hands now hang limply at his sides. He stands so still that it's like he hasn't even heard you.

It may not seem like it in the moment, but your ex-husband always found the right words. From the first, "you look like crap" to the wedding vows he spent months on and ended up going off script anyways, he always knew just what to say.

As the silence stretched on, you grew increasingly uncomfortable. There was never any doubt that Satoru loved you, but now that you've said something you can't take back, has he realized how the eventual heartache wasn't worth it in the end? At some point, has he realized that maybe you were just never meant to be?

"Satoru?" you ask in a small voice.

Rather than using insufficient words for the feeling of joy and relief beyond comprehension, Satoru wordlessly reaches into his shirt and pulls out a chain. On it hangs his wedding ring, yours, and your engagement ring.

In the weeks after the divorce, you tried to give your engagement and wedding ring back to him. He didn't accept them at first, telling you they're yours and always would be, but one day, he came to work and found them sitting on his desk. He exorcised 37 curses that day.

You huff a laugh. "You keep those on you?"

The storage closet you're in is small, smells mildly of bleach and strongly of dirt, and the light fixture hands so low Satoru has to stoop to not bang his head. His elbow knocks over a mop and the bucket its in, which causes a chain reaction of falling cleaning supplies, but he ignores it all to awkwardly fit himself onto one knee.

Satoru unclasps the chain and slides your engagement ring off. Your hands fly to your mouth and to him, you look even more beautiful than you did the first time he asked. Your cheeks aren't as full, you look more world-weary, but your eyes still shine as bright and you'll always be you, and for that, Satoru could never love anyone else the way he loved you. Not even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.

Satoru slides his blindfold up and it sits in his hair messily. "Maybe you don't think you deserve him, but if I could just be selfish this one time." He has to swallow to keep his voice steady. "I'd ask if you'd be willing to settle for me, who doesn't deserve you. Because I love you and I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy."

Your tears fall freely as he takes your left hand in his.

"If that's enough, then I hope you'll accept this as a promise ring. That I'll take it slow and I'll respect your boundaries and you can back out at any time." He winks. "And that I'll get you a new engagement ring when the time comes."

It's like you've just walked through the threshold of your home after ages away. Breathed in your scent. Taken in all the decor you've collected while living there.

"You've spent a really long time hung up on the same girl, Satoru," you laugh wetly.

Satoru grins. "You don't get it. She's a really special girl. No one compares. So, what do you say? I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow?"

And what else are you supposed to say? That's Your Man.

Hello, loves, I just moved from one end of the U.S. to the other and moved away from my parents for work. I lived in the same house in the same bedroom for 24 years, and it's been hard, so I haven't been writing, but here is the most emotional installment I've written of any fic ever. I hope you enjoy.

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[quantum1mmortality]

omg uhhhh…

curly giving/receiving head headcanons??…

it’s so generic but I’m on the floor sobbing I’m desperate for more of this man, you’re an incredible writer and I love what you’ve written abt curly so far!!

I want to give this man the most world shattering head he's ever had in his whole life, like soiled sheets and fucking mind boggling orgasms. RIGHT NOW

Tw/cw; Afab!reader, cunnilingus AND filatio!!!! that's all I think

Not proofread

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Receiving

He whimpers.

No but like seriously, he does whimper. He'd be so caught up in the feeling that just slips out, along with him saying your name ofc 🤭

He'd be more of a sheet gripper than a hair gripper. Like I said in my marriage hcs, Curly tries his best to not be rough with you; and in his eyes, gripping onto your hair is being rough.

He mainly thinks that way because he's under the assumption that it hurts you, which he wants no part of. So, he sticks to what he thinks is best for you.

But sometimes he just can't help himself, the pleasure he's feeling overrules his own morals, and he breaks.

So every once in a while, he'll grab a hold of your hair and just.. push you down a little further and hold you there. It isn't his fault, he doesn't mean to! But he feels awful about it in the moment

Once he's finished, he's an incoherent mess. He's so fucked out he can't even form words properly, but after a few minutes he can say "thank you". Why does he thank you? He thinks it's nice; a gentlemanly thing to do.

He'll eventually apologize, just give him a few more minutes to compose himself.

Giving

Curly would be the type of man to constantly want you sitting on his face. And I mean CONSTANTLY.

He'd definitely use it as foreplay all the time. Even if you don't need it, he'll still insist. He probably gets more pleasure from it than you do.

Even though he doesn't want to hurt you, that rule for him doesn't apply when he's eating you out. His hands leave actual MARKS from how hard he's pulling your thighs down while trying to keep you still.

Do you guys remember what doja cat said about big noses? Curly would DEFINITELY position your waist in a way that your clit is resting on his nose. And then he'd use his grip on your thighs to rock you back and forth, as if you're riding it

As you can imagine it doesn't take long to cum after he starts doing that, and he's not letting a single drop go to waste. It's his favorite snack actually, he likes working for what he deserves 🤭

More often than not he'd ask to do it again, but it takes so much energy out of you that you physically can't sit up. It's like he's sucking the life out of you, both literally and metaphorically.

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A/n: Got me holding my breath I've been dreaming of this all night, thinking all the time about you hope that's alright