#i WANTED to but the writing part of my brain was Not Cooperating

[fleetsonourgecentral]

I suddenly remember That you never told us how a meeting between Prime/Archie! Sonic and Fleetway (Amnesiac/Good) Super Sonic would go.

Also I want to read Fleetway Sonic and scourge reactions if They somehow end Up dating (I like Fleetonic and I need something to draw lol)

I imagine any meeting between Prime and Super would likely come after Prime has already had the misfortune of meeting Sonic, and subsequently had at least one (1) argument about Super. If the argument hasn't already happened by the time Prime and Super meet, it's definitely imminent. I imagine Prime would be a lot more forgiving of Super than Sonic is (partly because he just doesn't have the same baggage Sonic does and partly because he's just overall less of a dick) so he'd be sympathetic to his plight. He'd be much quicker to believe Super when he says he doesn't want to be that evil person who hurts and kills people for fun. Sonic would scoff and call him a trusting idiot, but it's not that Prime is oblivious to or ignoring the danger that Super can cause, he just doesn't believe dogpiling the guy about it will actually help his situation

Sonic's reaction to finding out they're dating would just be more "I think you're fucking stupid" or, depending on how not-awful his relationship with Super is, just a quiet scoff. He probably tells Prime that if he's soooo fond of Super, then he can take Super with him back to his dimension, but he's probably also secretly worried about Prime actually following through, because if anything goes wrong, Sonic isn't there to help stop it. Chaos energy in the fleetway dimension is fucky and corrupted; for all his bitching and "don't come crying to me if he tries to kill all your friends", Sonic doesn't actually want another universe to suffer from that corrupted energy. He definitely doesn't want the chaos energy in the prime zone to become corrupted the same way his was, either

I can't imagine Scourge has much emotional attachment to Super to care too much. Like, he sees a part of himself in Super, specifically in how both of their identities used to be tied to Sonic, but he doesn't like that he can relate to Super. He doesn't hate or dislike him, but he definitely doesn't like him, either. He just often ends up being the one Ebony calls for out of everyone else in the freedom fighters because he's the one with the least amount of history with Super, so Super doesn't put him on edge the same way he does everyone else. So if Super started dating Prime, he'd probably just make some snarky comment about weak-hearted goody-two-shoes flocking together

Ultimately, the two of them together will probably mock the relationship. They probably only find out because one of them comes home and immediately starts bitching about how "did you HEAR Super and Prime are dating now???" and then they spend an hour talking shit about them. After all, even if Sonic has warmed up to Super a little, he probably still doesn't trust him or is comfortable being around him, and Scourge is a stubborn fucker who won't change his mind about disliking Prime out of sheer spite, so neither Prime nor Super have much of Sonic and Scourge's respect

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

[trans-leek-cookie]

listen I'm not gonna be a Curly apologist he did Fucked Up as captain but I genuinely recommend ppl watch a playthru that goes thru the game in chronological order. It kinda helps clear up the events and gaps between them, bc even tho u See the times, you still experience it out of order.

The stuff Anya says definitely sets off alarm bells but it doesn't seem like he Fully Understands what she means, and I'm going to be 100% honest I think she was trying to repress it herself. This isn't to say that she is AT ALL "at fault" for what happened after and she should've gotten help even if she wasn't ready to fully discuss the issue but I genuinely think she herself was still coming to terms with things, so she didn't necessarily process the full impact before talking to Curly, and a lot of what happens occurs after they're laid off- like this delves into personal interpretation but I genuinely think Anya only registered Jimmy as a serious danger after his outburst towards Curly. Ofc my interpretation is limited bc of the limited pov in game and not having gone through what she has, but it personally reads more akin to coercion over time than a singular Obviously Violent incident (like. Not to say that Sexual Assault isnt violent in nature, just that coercion often specifically works to obfuscate the fact it is a form of violence.) The layoff is a Massive catalyst for her bc of Jimmy, in that she now has a very clear understanding of his capacity for aggression.

To extrapolate a little from the "Dead Pixel" conversation, she starts by saying she Likes The Screen (even though it's fake). While Curly has his quotes about the pixel "not ruining the illusion" which. Y'know is Symbolic Of His Flaws. She doesn't say the pixel ruins it, just that she can't get it out of her mind.

If we take the pixel to represent her Or jimmy, either way the way she talks about it kind of downplays things, like it's a Minor Thing that's Slightly Upsetting, but she's still okay with the big picture. Idk I could be 100% wrong but that is my take

Besides that, Anya tells curly she's pregnant 2 days before the crash, and it isn't until she outright states it that he starts Putting The Pieces Together. I want to note, he says "I'd do anything" and "this doesn't have to go on our performance evals" 1. Before he knows shes pregnant 2. Under the assumption she might attempt suicide, and I doubt he even thought about her using the gun on anyone else before she brings that up. He says literally before the line where she tells him she's pregnant that "being laid off isnt a reason to hurt [herself]". Like I've seen ppl talk about the performance evaluation thing like it's about her and jimmy, but I think he's referring to (his belief) that she might attempt suicide or similar which might genuinely be a consistent thing he's seen her struggle with, given she's able to go through with it. Also just to note: assuming their society is like ours (hellish) reassuring her he won't blab Abt her mental health is like. Genuine reassurance- lots of mentally ill ppl will Not Open Up bc it could have long term consequences (like. For example. On employment) ANYWAYS I hope it doesn't come off like "Curly never failed Anya" but rather "Curly approached this specific situation without the context of why Anya is panicking and (possibly validly) assuming she's dealing with a very different issue"

Also let me say again the time frame is 2 days. We don't Really see what happens, but we know Anya tells Jimmy without Curly knowing. I genuinely believe he maybe didn't do a Great Job in those two days (the fact he says Anya should've talked to Him before telling Jimmy is uhhh. Mm. 1. Your job to create an environment where she comes to you my man 2. Weird to tell her what she should do with HER OWN PERSONAL INFORMATION) but like.

I get a lot of ppl want immediate consequences but consider that they can't really get rid of Jimmy (co pilot. Which is. Y'know it's Own Problems) but also like. Curly knows Jimmy, and we know that Jimmy tends to lash out. Curly should probably Not Confront Jimmy Unless He Knows Exactly How To Keep Him From Hurting Anya. Like I'm not an expert but this is something genuinely important- when confronting an abuser you NEED to take into account the impact it can have on their victim, and sometimes for the victims safety you need to wait until you have a Solid Plan. It sucks but it's important.

And theres discussion to be had about Curly kinda going along with Jimmy saying "well what if we all died" and like. I do believe he Didn't Realize What Jimmy Said. Like he was just processing/trying to keep the situation under control (and failing because he underestimated how willing Jimmy was to hurt everyone including himself).

Like he's definitely an enabler but I would say his problems are mostly before he understands the gravity of the situation, in that he's friends with Jimmy and assumes the best of a man with abusive tendencies, and fails to create an environment that can keep Anya and the others safe. Like, he definitely doesn't handle in game events perfectly (psych evaluation for one- he does do it instead of Anya which is actually helpful, but he still treats it like. Weirdly.)

Idk I have a lot of thoughts about this game and I don't necessarily want to defend Curly but more like. Anya's situation is very delicate (and light on details) so sometimes the way ppl talk Abt it feels like they aren't actually focused on what she wants and what it means to prioritize her safety y'know?

Edit bc I just now figured out kinda how I want to word it: curly is an enabler and making things worse bc he doesn't put a stop to Jimmy's BS, but in the specific scenario we see in game I think he's trying to use his Skillset of like, people pleasing not for Jimmy's sake but for the crews (like "if I nod my head and say I sympathize he won't lash out and hurt them") which like. There are situations which that is unfortunately the safest option (on an individual level yes, but sometimes it's also necessary to prevent abusers lashing out in response toward ppl who are more vulnerable) but it was the Wrong Choice.

It's like. I think Curly was trying and had good intentions, and understood that he needed to protect the crew, but he didn't have the toolset/experience to realize he can't Just go along with things and that he needs to be able to set hard limits, even for ppl he likes and trusts. Like he failed but the failure was "for want of a nail", where it began way before what we see (for want of an understanding of power dynamics I guess.) Again, don't think this makes curly more forgivable or whatever, I just think he's a good example of trying to make the right choices when you never realized you'd have to make these kinds of decisions and therefore are unprepared and/or unaware

Second edit: personally I don't think you can really incapacitate jimmy without there being serious risk (again he's the copilot) but curly should've given Anya the gun when she told him Abt the pregnancy

[citrlet]

last night i actually got back into writing after probably a year? of not having any motivation to and it's so exciting but god i'm so rusty akfjdks

[standbowed]

Hachi was named for the time of her birth- born precisely at 8:00 am according to the medical staff (as "hachi" is also the pronunciation for the number 8 in Japanese). Hachi's name is written with the katakana ハチ. It is worth noting that names written in hiragana or katakana do not hold specific meanings as names written in kanji do; they are purely phonetic.

While it's not uncommon for given names to be written in the phonetic-based katakana or hiragana rather than kanji, and while Hachi has no issue with the name or the set of characters selected on its own, it occasionally becomes a point of insecurity for her when contrasted to her sister Emi's name, which is written in kanji--specifically, the kanji 恵美 (恵 meaning "blessing, favour, benefit" and 美 meaning "beautiful, pretty").

For Emi's name to so deliberately note her as beautiful blessing while Hachi's name is much more simply based off of the time of her birth, well, it's prime fodder for (over?)thinking when Hachi gets caught up in trying to analyze it.

[starcchild]

((if my brain wasn't completely shut off right now I would love to ramble about how absolutely debilitating Carter's fear of abandonment is, but alas my brain is. not wanting to cooperate

[chronickey-luka]

i love writing but im burdened by a chronic state of "He Would Not Fucking Say That" where i need to keep things as close to character as possible and it makes pre-canon content so difficult sometimes. especially when a character's only been around for like. a small part of the series to begin with like i need to build an entire case file on him first.

[luvrgreyy]

WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.3k summary: why does one wound those they love so deeply? masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. mentions of divorce, cheating/infidelity, awkward leon stuff, guilt, yearning, leon and reader have a child together — and i named her denise for whatever reason, getting stood up by a date, drunk texting, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bittersweet ending(?) i guess.

a/n: old wip,, this was supposed to be super gut wrenching and angsty but for some reason, my brain didn’t want to cooperate and decided that this would be the ending. also, i’ve been contemplating whether to address this or not and even tho its not a big issue, PLEASE interact with my posts. it’s the only way i’m able to know that you guys actually like the stuff i write, and ever since i’ve started writing on here 7 months ago, i’ve been noticing a decrease in interactions. im honestly losing motivation to write because i truly don’t know if people actually read my shit and like it. anyway, enjoy my mediocre writing ^___^

leon regrets everything he’s done up to this point. running into ada on a mission, going to the bar with her afterwards, and the kiss. the stupid kiss that eventually led up to this.

the divorce.

it all felt wrong, so wrong. yet here he was, driving his car to your doorstep, his stomach in knots despite having done this several times before.

for the sake of your daughter, the two of you had decided that shared custody would be the best option.

he stands at the door, hesitating before knocking, his knuckles hovering anxiously. clearing his throat, he gently raps his knuckles against the door, hoping for an answer. he's already second-guessing himself, wondering if he should have texted or called first.

your door eventually opens, and he's met with a familiar face. you.

you greet him with a civil smile, pressing a kiss into your daughter’s hair before ushering her inside.

he fidgets, adjusting the brim of his leather jacket nervously as he takes in the sight of you.

you reach to shut the door, catching a glimpse of him awkwardly hovering over you porch.

“you okay?”

he tries to find his voice. "yeah, i just, uh... i was just thinking..”

he looks down at his feet, kicking the ground with the side of his scuffed boot, as if trying to buy some time or maybe just willing the floor to swallow him up. when he speaks, his voice is low and sheepish. “when i was— last night, i thought… uh, do- do you remember when.. shit. are you free this weekend?”

”what?” you muse at his question. “leon, i really don’t wanna have this conversation with you again,”

he winces at the rebuff, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a defensive measure.

leon’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, his ears burning at your words. he looks anywhere but at you, his eyes darting over the porch railing, the foliage, the sky — anywhere but your eyes. oh, those eyes he adored so much.

"no, wait, hear me out,”

"listen..." he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever fallout this might bring, knowing he's already on shaky ground. “i just wanna talk.. to you.”

he shifts his weight, glancing up at the roof of the house as if the heavens themselves could offer a solution. when he does meet your gaze again, his eyes are pleading, his jaw clenched with a mix of anxiety and something akin to desperation.

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

he scoffs and his face scrunches up, a pained grimace contorting his features as he cuts you off. “c’mon, please?” he's standing too close now, invading the personal space he once knew so well. “i.. i know it isn’t what we do anymore but—“

“no, seriously. i literally can’t. i have something up.”

“oh.” he deflates slightly at your dismissal, shoulders slumping in defeat. a soft, regretful sigh escapes his parted lips, and his eyes drop, gaze wandering aimlessly. "can- can you can you cancel? is it really important? what about on sunday-? i’m sure we can..“

“leon.” it's not a question this time, you stare at him with the tiniest hint of pity. “i have a date.”

ouch. he freezes, his chest constricting as if he's been punched. a date? the words echo in his mind, each syllable like a dagger to his pride, his ego, his everything. a muscle in his jaw twitches, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. leon swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched.

"oh," he repeats, the sound barely above a whisper. he takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw working in agitation as he grapples with the blow of your words. a snarky retort rises in his throat, a cutting remark to deflect the sting, but it withers on his tongue, a futile attempt at salvaging pride he knows is misplaced.

leon swallows hard, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice, laced with a wry bitterness. “yeah, no worries.. guess that's that," a bitter, hollow chuckle escapes him as he shifts his weight. his tone is flippant, trying to mask the sting of rejection, but the defeat is palpable as he turns to leave. he starts down the porch steps, his boots thudding against the wooden slats.

you finally close the door on him, standing by the door, hand on the knob, unease prickling along you skin like a thousand tiny needles, each one stinging with the weight of guilt. you sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tries to process her feelings. guilt, regret, a twinge longing — it's all so confusing, so messy.

the weight of his pleading eyes, the desperation in his tone — he had no right acting like a dejected puppy after he cheated on you.

you shake your head, face between your hands. he made his choices, just as you had, and now it was time to move on. you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from the door, determined to let go of the ghost of what was and focus on the life you were building. for you, and your daughter.

but it’s not really easy.

not when you’re sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date that never bothered to show.

your phone buzzes and you hold your breath. hoping for some sort of confirmation, but it's quickly snuffed out.

‘hey, sorry i couldn’t make it. something important came up’ the simple text reads. the same stupid excuse. every. single. time. your heart sinks, a dull ache forming in the pit of your stomach.

a bitter, derisive chuckle escapes your lips. serves you right. you knew he was trouble from the start. yet, your heart aches, a dull throb of pain and disappointment. you feel so foolish, sitting there, waiting for someone who never shows. though, it isn't really new.

now you lay in your bed, having already kicked off your heels and changed out of the uncomfortably tight dress you wore.

you pull the blankets up to your chin, suddenly feeling cold. you toss and turn, brooding and wallowing in misery, and it seemed like you’ve been doing it for hours till you’re startled out of your fitful doze by the buzz of your phone.

it's a text from leon, of course it is. it’s another one of his ‘where are u? i miss u’ ‘can’t stop thinking about you. please let me c u’ meltdowns.

he's drunk again, you can tell by the sloppy caps and the desperate pleas. every time he has a rough night, he always thinks coming over will magically fix everything. and you always refuse, knowing he’s only drunk and alone. but tonight, you feel particularly lonely.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and before you know it, you're typing. ‘come over.’ you hesitate, then send the message.

by then, he’s already halfway out the door, stumbling out and nearly falling as he trips over his own feet in his haste. he takes the stairs two at a time, a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. when he reaches your door, he pounds on it with a fist. his breath comes out in short puffs as he waits, anticipation making his heart race.

click.

the door creaks open a fraction and his eyes lock onto you, looking all soft and domestic in a robe. leon's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink you in.

he tumbles in, arms outstretched as if he's about to catch something. he's immediately in your space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, breathless with relief and something else, something suspiciously like love.

“leon—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of beer and regret in his breath. his hands roam, sliding up your back, gripping your hair, fingers splayed wide as if to assure himself you're real. a low, desperate sound escapes him, half-groan, half-moan as his body presses against yours. he's desperate, sloppy, but undeniably passionate. when he finally breaks for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glassy with drink and longing.

“missed you s’ much, baby,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the pulse point with a reverence that borders worship.

“let me make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, an expression so pathetic it’s comical. yet, the desperation behind them makes it anything but.

his hands skim down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hands knead the meat of your ass, claws digging in through the fabric of your robe. his breath hitches as he nuzzles into you, inhaling deeply as if committing you to memory.

he trails a string of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to nibble on your collarbone before continuing his journey south. his hands never stop moving, roaming over your body with an insatiable hunger.

you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "bedroom," you breathe out, and he happily obliges.

once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and spins you around, backing you up against the bed. he begins to undo your robe with shaking fingers, your heavy breathing and the rustling of silk the only sounds in the charged silence between you. when the robe falls open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

the thin, sheer fabric of your nightgown offers little resistance as he practically rips it off you. a shaky breath escapes his parted lips as he reaches for you again, fingers grazing your skin as if he's not quite trusting his own touch.

he guides you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge. he immediately drops to his knees before you, face between your legs.

“these ‘re pretty,” he slurs out, before he fucking tears your underwear off.

“leon!”

he chuckles at your reaction, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “gonna buy you new ones,”

his stubble scrapes against your sensitive skin as he slowly trails open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, savoring every inch of you that you’re willing to give him.

he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking with a single-minded devotion that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

god, it’s been so long. the feelings practically foreign.

his tongue begins to lash at your slit, long and flat, with a dexterity that belies his level of inebriation.

“you still mine?” he huffs. “‘course you are, ‘m the only one that can get ya this wet,”

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

his tongue is relentless, probing your entrance, swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. he's sloppy, uncoordinated, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of it all. every time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy breathing, feel the vibrations of his moans against your most intimate flesh. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer as your back arches off the bed. a keening whimper escapes you, the sound muffled by your clenched teeth as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“fuck, leon—” your words trail off into incoherent mumbles as he drives you closer to the edge, tongue darting in and out with a pace that’ll make a grown woman go crazy. “d-denise, were gonna wake her up,”

a low growl rumbles in his chest as he responds to your whine. there's a hint of accusation in his gaze, but it quickly morphs into a look of raw, desperate need. “don’t matter,” he's relentless, persistent, refusing to back down even as you tremble and writhe beneath him.

he grunts, his attention snapping back to you, blue eyes squinting as he looks up from between your thighs. his tongue is a damn metronome, lapping and smacking with a relentless rhythm that has you chasing the edge of oblivion.

it's like every drunken fantasy he's ever had is being poured out onto you. messy, uncoordinated, desperate. and you’re eating it up. “gonna make you forget all about that stupid date," he mutters through slurred words. "’m the only man who can make you feel this good,"

he's not wrong. the way he's attacking you with his tongue, it's like he's trying to prove a fucking point.

"leon, please," you gasp out, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. your entire body is wound up tight, a taut string ready to snap. he slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your legs wrap around his head, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him in as close as humanly possible. his name is a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of pleasure. "leon, leon, leon,". denise could come in right now and catch you like this — legs splayed, back arched, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. he's that good. or maybe that bad. you dont know. and you don’t care to find out.

"yeah, just like that," he praises, voice a low, gravelly growl. "love my fingers in this greedy little cunt, don't you?"

your thighs clench around his head, heels digging into his back as you ride out the pleasure. "gonna cum, leon, please—“ yours words trail off into a wail, a keen of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

your back arches, toes curl, and your fingers dig into his hair, holding him to you as the wave crashes over you. he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, practically burying his face in your groin. he laps at your slit, in and out, in and out, until the last bit of resistance melts away.

he lifts his face from between your legs, eyes hazy and unfocused as he fumbles to unbuckle his pants. once he has it off, he's back, pushing your legs apart as he kneels between them. the thick of his length throbs against your lower belly, and you can feel his racing heartbeat through every inch of him that's in contact with you.

he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pressing in just enough to make you feel the pressure, gathering your juices before giving a long, slow stroke up and down, coating himself in you. he's throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can practically taste the desperation in your mouth.

he presses in, just the tip at first, then a bit more. slow, shallow strokes, in and out. his hips rock against yours, the motion slow and languid. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your closed eyelids to check if he was dreaming. the other hand palms the small of your back, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself. your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as he slowly sinks into you.

he's quiet for a moment, just holding you, his heart racing in his chest as if he's trying to communicate something without using words. his hips move, the action slow and lazy, as if he's trying to spoon you into submission.

he pulls out, just to the tip, before pushing back in. the motion is slow, sensual, a deliberate teasing that has you whining and writhing beneath him.

sweat beads on his brow, tracing down the lines of his face, but he doesn't slow. if anything, he's driven by a desperate need to make up for lost time, to prove himself worthy of you. your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he pistons in and out, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. he's not gentle, not soft, but rough and demanding, just like he always used to be when he was trying to stake his claim.

he nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he sooths it with his tongue. “fuck, feels so good,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “can't believe i ever let you go.”

"leon," you whimper, the name a plea, a prayer. his lips find yours in a sloppy, frantic kiss. he's drinking you in, devouring your mouth, your moans, your gasps, trying to consume every ounce of you.

he's sweating, hair a mess, face scrunched up in concentration, but those blue eyes remain locked on yours.

you're lost in the sensation, every nerve ending on high alert, screaming for friction, for relief, for release. "leon, leon, gonna cum," you pant, your voice raw, your throat dry. "please, i—" but your pleas are swallowed by his next thrust, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours, noses nearly touching. his hot breath mingles with yours, the scent of his beer-soaked breath and the musk of his arousal mingling together in the most intoxicating way. "love you," he suddenly whispers, the words a quiet, a desperate confession that hangs in the air between you.

“love you, love you, fuck—“

the way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. for a long moment, he stays frozen, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

the heat of your body seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill of the night air. he collapses against you, a boneless heap of satisfied male. his cock throbs, pulses, and drips onto the bed between your legs as he tries to catch his breath. the room is silent, save for your joint heavy breathing, and the occasional groan as his softening length slips out of you. eventually, he rolls off, lying on his back beside you, one big hand coming to rest on your stomach, thumb stroking in a slow, idle pattern. his eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find yours and hold. a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"sorry," he slurs out, the word garbled and slightly off-kilter. "i shoulda been better, should’ve tried harder, i... i‘m gonna make things right, i swear,"

he peppers your neck with soft kisses, his stubble rasping against your tender flesh. he's warm, solid, and comforting. gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation that drove him mere moments ago.

he's not reaching for grand gestures or flowery declarations. he's asking for something simple, intimate, and achingly human. a chance to hold you, to sleep beside you, to maybe, begin to rebuild something from the rubble of what once was.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe that he’ll be different this time. that he's not just trying to relive past glories, but genuinely wants to make amends, to start anew.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

[orcelito]

need 2 reignite the mental illness for akechi. gotta pspspsp my brain. like "dont look over there! look over here!"*insert pic of Him*

[ladybirdswritings]

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You’re a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There’s something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write for this cowboy for days now and I’ve finally come around to it. Cowboys are my specialty lately <3. Lmk if u love this and I’ll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, I love those!!)

A03 | masterlist | next chap

pretty thing…

“Well lookie here, seems you vaulties ain’t as perfect as you promise to be, huh?”

A furrow of chocolate brows, offense and confusion from sweet Lucy MacLean. This vault promised development in weaponry that the new world had never seen before. It was a thing of storybooks, the kind of thing her dad told her right before her head hit the pillow.

Now, here she was; and it wasn’t a caged weapon she was staring at… no, but rather a caged person.

“This violates all of our policies…” she muttered softly, worry stitched in her soft features as she looked on at the mangled cowboy beside her.

“Tsk tsk, sweetheart. You oughta be more careful with trustin’ these shit-eating freaks. Ain’t you learned your lesson first time round?”

Lucy sighed, falling to her knees and grazing a warm hand against the metal. She looked on at you with pity. Weak, hazy you.

How did you end up in this predicament? You didn’t know. You didn’t remember.

It was as if the entirety of everything you’d ever known was only stitched within your brain in jagged, disorderly flashes. This had to be one too. A flash.

A vault dweller and a ghoul, side by side.

It was most certainly a flash.

“What do we do, coop?” The brunette wondered, doe eyes gazing up at the mangled creature. He only smirked.

“We split. You find your precious tin-man you can’t stop yappin’ bout… and I’ll snatch up this dyin’ cargo. Comprende?”

Lucy had come to trust him, and maybe it was a stupid thing to do. Reality was, though, he’d kept her alive this far. Maybe she owed it to him to follow orders. With a huff, she parted— and then?

It was just you and the ghoul.

Heavy footsteps circled your metal cage, like shark to labored minnow. You were far too exhausted to pick up those pretty eyes of yours from the ground they gazed at.

Chains wrapped round your wrists and ankles, cold metal burned against your spine and cheek. There were two ghouls in your peripheral vision, and each one was the same amount of horrifying.

The footsteps halted, and suddenly the mangled, noseless blur was clear as day before you. Kneeled to your level, observant— cold.

“Well well— look at you, huh? Pretty thing. Now I understand takin’ precautions but damn, sweetie. That’s a lotta chains, hm? What’s so scary bout’ you?” He whispered the last part, thread laced finger lifting to slowly push a loose locket of hair from your dampened face through the cage.

You blinked, forcing your gaze upward so to try and meet his eyes. It was exhausting.

He observed you like you were a foreign object, a diamond in the radiated rough.

“I’d wager to say that you’re just the weapon we was lookin’ for, ain’t you?”

God, he didn’t know just how right he was.

If there was one certain thing you could remember clear as day, laced through the flashes, it was your powers. Each and every one of them, laying dormant now.

You were far too poked and prodded, too drained to even think of lifting a finger.

“Been doin’ this for centuries, pretty thing. Centuries and I ain’t ever seen this kinda experimentation on a little fawn. Hm. Guess you was just unlucky.” His breath was warm as it hit your face. Musing and eyeing your exhausted, slumped figure. Observant, taking his time. Your keepers would be coming soon— he didn’t seem worried.

“Tell you what. You look like you gon’ make me lots of money. So you’re comin’ with me. Don’t you worry, I prefer ropes stead’ of chains, sweetie. You’ll be nice n’ comfortable.”

The more he spoke, the farther away he sounded. You were aware he was a ghoul, that much was certain. Yet even so, no part of his voice, no part of his fading threats were even a little bit startling. No.

His voice was a soft yet strong southern drawl and god— it was far more comforting than the chains and cement floor you’d always known. Perhaps that’s why you let the exhaustion overtake you. Perhaps that’s why you closed your eyes.

Did it matter why? No. All that mattered was that you did.

The rest was a blur. The last thing you remember? Frayed ropes being wrapped round you tight as you were freed from your chains. Mangled, coat covered arms lifting you from the cement and golden teeth pressed against your aching ear to whisper:

“C’mon now, pretty thing…”

Then?

Slumber…

¿to be continued?

[ask-the-prose]

Do Your Research

This phrase is regularly thrown around writeblr and for good reason. It's important to research what you are writing about to know what to include, what can be fudged, and how to depict whatever you're writing. I see "do your research" most thrown around by well-meaning and highly traditionally educated writers. It's solid advice, after all!

But how do you research?

For those writers who don't already have the research skills necessary to write something comfortably already downloaded into your brain, I put this guide together for you.

Where do I even start?

It's a daunting task, research. But the best place to start is with the most basic, stupidest question you can think of. I'm going to talk about something that I already know a lot about: fighting.

When researching fight scenes, a great way to start is to look up what different weapons are. There are tons out there! So ask the stupid questions. What is a sword? What is a gun? How heavy are they?

Google and Wikipedia can help you a lot with these basic-level questions. They aren't great sources for academic articles, but remember, this is fiction. It doesn't need to be perfect, and it doesn't need to be 100% accurate if you don't want it to be. But knowing what is true to life will help you write well. Just like knowing the rules of writing will help you break them.

You may find in your basic research sweep that you have a lot more specific questions. Write them all down. It doesn't matter if they seem obvious. Write them down because they will be useful later.

How To Use Wikipedia Correctly

Wikipedia is a testament to cooperative human knowledge. It's also easy to edit by anonymous users, which means there is a lot of room for inaccuracies and misleading information. Wikipedia is usually pretty good about flagging when a source is needed or when misleading language is obvious, but Wikipedia itself isn't always the most accurate or in-depth source.

Wikipedia is, however, an excellent collection of sources. When I'm researching a subject that I know nothing about, say Norse mythology, a good starting point is the Wikipedia page for Odin. You'll get a little background on Odin's name and Germanic roots, a little backstory on some of the stories, where they appear, and how they are told.

When you read one of the sentences, and it sparks a new question, write the question down, and then click on the superscript number. This will take you directly to the linked source for the stated fact. Click through to that source. Now you have the source where the claim was made. This source may not be a primary source, but a secondary source can still lead you to new discoveries and details that will help you.

By "source-hopping," you can find your way across the internet to different pieces of information more reliably. This information may repeat itself, but you will also find new sources and new avenues of information that can be just as useful.

You mean I don't need a library?

Use your library. Libraries in many parts of the US are free to join, and they have a wealth of information that can be easily downloaded online or accessed via hardcopy books.

You don't, however, need to read every source in the library for any given topic, and you certainly don't need to read the whole book. Academic books are different from fiction. Often their chapters are divided by topic and concept and not by chronological events like a history textbook.

For example, one of my favorite academic books about legislative policy and how policy is passed in the US, by John Kingdon, discusses multiple concepts. These concepts build off one another, but ultimately if you want to know about one specific concept, you can skip to that chapter. This is common in sociological academic books as well.

Going off of my Norse Mythology example in the last section, a book detailing the Norse deities and the stories connected to them will include chapters on each member of the major pantheon. But if I only care about Odin, I can focus on just the chapters about Odin.

Academic Articles and How To Read Them

I know you all know how to read. But learning how to read academic articles and books is a skill unto itself. It's one I didn't quite fully grasp until grad school. Learn to skim. When looking at articles published in journals that include original research, they tend to follow a set structure, and the order in which you read them is not obvious. At all.

Start with the abstract. This is a summary of the paper that will include, in about half a page to a page, the research question, hypothesis, methods/analysis, and conclusions. This abstract will help you determine if the answer to your question is even in this article. Are they asking the right question?

Next, read the research question and hypothesis. The hypothesis will include details about the theory and why the researcher thinks what they think. The literature review will go into much more depth about theories, what other people have done and said, and how that ties into the research of the present article. You don't need to read that just yet.

Skim the methods and analysis section. Look at every data table and graph included and try to find patterns yourself. You don't need to read every word of this section, especially if you don't understand a lot of the words and jargon used. Some key points to consider are: qualitative vs. quantitative data, sample size, confounding factors, and results.

(Some definitions for those of you who are unfamiliar with these terms. Qualitative data is data that cannot be quantified into a number. These are usually stories and anecdotes. Quantitative data is data that can be transferred into a numerical representation. You can't graph qualitative data (directly), but you can graph quantitative data. Sample size is the number of people or things counted (n when used in academic articles). Your sample size can indicate how generalizable your conclusions are. So pay attention. Did the author interview 300 subjects? Or 30? There will be a difference. A confounding factor is a factor that may affect the working theory. An example of a theory would be "increasing LGBTQ resources in a neighborhood would decrease LGBTQ hate crimes in that area." A confounding factor would be "increased reporting of hate crimes in the area." The theory, including the confounding factor, would look like "increasing LGBTQ resources in a neighborhood would increase the reporting of hate crimes in the area, which increases the number of hate crimes measured in that area." The confounding factor changes the outcome because it is a factor not considered in the original theory. When looking at research, see if you can think of anything that may change the theory based on how that factor interacts with the broader concept. Finally, the results are different from the conclusions. The results tell you what the methods spit out. Analysis tells you what the results say, and conclusions tell you what generalizations can be made based on the analysis.)

Next, read the conclusion section. This section will tell you what general conclusions can be made from the information found in the paper. This will tell you what the author found in their research.

Finally, once you've done all that, go back to the literature review section. You don't have to read it necessarily, but reading it will give you an idea of what is in each sourced paper. Take note of the authors and papers sourced in the literature review and repeat the process on those papers. You will get a wide variety of expert opinions on whatever concept or niche you're researching.

Starting to notice a pattern?

My research methods may not necessarily work for everybody, but they are pretty standard practice. You may notice that throughout this guide, I've told you to "source-hop" or follow the sources cited in whatever source you find first. This is incredibly important. You need to know who people are citing when they make claims.

This guide focused on secondary sources for most of the guide. Primary sources are slightly different. Primary sources require understanding the person who created the source, who they were, and their motivations. You also may need to do a little digging into what certain words or phrases meant at the time it was written based on what you are researching. The Prose Edda, for example, is a telling of the Norse mythology stories written by an Icelandic historian in the 13th century. If you do not speak the language spoken in Iceland in 1232, you probably won't be able to read anything close to the original document. In fact, the document was lost for about 300 years. Now there are translations, and those translations are as close to the primary source you can get on Norse Mythology. But even then, you are reading through several veils of translation. Take these things into account when analyzing primary documents.

Research Takes Practice

You won't get everything you need to know immediately. And researching subjects you have no background knowledge of can be daunting, confusing, and frustrating. It takes practice. I learned how to research through higher formal education. But you don't need a degree to write, so why should you need a degree to collect information? I genuinely hope this guide helps others peel away some of the confusion and frustration so they can collect knowledge as voraciously as I do.

– Indy

[selfishgiirl]

Home With You; Cooper Adams

You have a hard time with your job. Not because Riley isn’t a good kid, but because her father is so goddamn hot—a DILF, if you will.

#sorry if this is ass

You’re a broke college student, so naturally, you take up babysitting for Mr. Adams’—who insists you call him Cooper—little girl.

Riley is a sweet girl, plus she’s easy to watch and get along with. At times it feels like you’re scamming Mr. Adams, Cooper, just because you actually really like and enjoy Riley, plus he pays you ridiculously.

Sometimes you try to refuse some of the money—not all, you’ve still got books to pay for—but he doesn’t let you.

He works weird hours as a firefighter, so it’s usually late when he comes home to Riley asleep and you either sleeping on the couch, watching TV, or doing homework, as you are now.

It’s about midnight when Cooper opens the door, finding you at the table typing away at your laptop. At the sound of the door, your head whips up and the miserable expression you’d had previously is replaced with a soft smile and Cooper hangs up his keys meticulously before making his way to you, “Hey.” He greets, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stands over you. “How was she?”

“Good, Miste…,uh, Cooper—,” You correct your mistake, and something akin to amusement flickers in his expression, “—like always. We worked on that math she was having trouble on, I think she’s almost got it down. How was work?”

“Ah, the usual. Mostly paperwork.” He answers, eyes not leaving yours, which makes you swallow and you wanna shy away, but you don’t. “What about you, how’s your homework? You didn’t look too happy when I walked in.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, embarrassed that he’d noticed your misery in working on a paper. “Right, yeah, I’m just not having a good time writing my paper. Just a little stressed s’all.” He nods at this, and then seems to be thinking about what he’s going to say next.

“It, uh, it isn’t that boy is it?” Cooper inquires and you immediately break eye contact at his words. Fuck, you totally forgot you mentioned him. “He’s not causing you any stress, is he?”

It’s so embarrassing for your hot boss to ask you about some boy you’d stupidly told him about when he’d asked what had been going in your life a week previously. Sheepishly, you pick at your sweater. “Not really.” You shrug, and at your vagueness, he waits for you to continue. “I stopped seeing him. He wasn’t—it didn’t work out.” By now your face is hot in humiliation at confiding in him about some guy you talked to in order to get over your attraction to Cooper, which hadn’t worked and instead made it worse.

“I see.” Cooper says, and he seems to tower over you even more in the moment. “What happened?” He puts a hand on your shoulder and your eyes linger on it. You can’t help but notice how large his hand is on your shoulder, and his fingers—“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly at your silence, assuming it was a sensitive subject. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Your eyes widen at this, “Oh no, it’s fine, really!” You jumble out and his embarrassed look shifts to a relieved expression. “He was just kinda on a different page than I was, I guess.” You stumble a bit when he begins to rub his hand on your shoulder, “W-wanted more from me than…I was willing to give.” You mumble the last part sheepishly, and Cooper’s expression is unreadable at your words. His lips are pursed and his eyes seem darker than they usually are.

“Boys your age, they don’t know what they’re doing.” He finally speaks after a moment of eye contact you find to be a little too intimate with his hand on your shoulder, and instinctively you press your thighs together. “Not with girls like you.”

Your breath catches at that, and your brain stops functioning before you snort. “And guys your age do?” The moment those words tumble out your mouth, your eyes widen in realization of what you said, mouth parting to excuse yourself, but you can’t seem to find the words.

Cooper stops rubbing your shoulder, hand stilling. “Men my age do, yeah.” You’re looking at him through your lashes, dazed at this point as his eyes bore into you. His hand trails up your shoulder, brushing your neck, before he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes are searching your own for any signs of rejection as his hand gently cups your face.

Your own hands find solace in your lap as your thighs squeeze as hard as they can against each other, and you shift a bit uncomfortably at the pressure between them. “Mr. Adams…”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Cooper?” He asks in a voice barely above a whisper before his hand picks up again, fingers lightly tracing your jawline before his thumb finds its place on your bottom lip, swiping it, before pushing gently against your mouth. Your lips part in compliance, and his thumb presses itself into your mouth, to which you suck lightly. His lips quirk up, “You’re always so eager to please, aren’t you?”

As if you’d just gained consciousness at his teasing, your eyes widen, and you release his thumb from your mouth before standing up abruptly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.” You refuse to look at him, face hot and tears beginning to form as you back yourself into the wall. “This is so unprofessional, please, Mr. Adams I—,”

“Come on, look at me—please, sweetheart?” You obediently look up at him to see him smiling gently as he steps closer. “Don’t be sorry.” Cooper whispers, towering over you before cupping your cheeks with both hands, then wiping away the runaway tears. “Say the word and I’ll stop.” He tells you before leaning in, lips meeting yours in a gentle, chaste kiss that you don’t immediately respond to as your brain processes what’s going on. Every sense of yours is on fire before you finally kiss back eagerly, hands gripping onto his—very broad—shoulders for support.

“Cooper,” you breathe out, eyes blown out as you search his own dilated eyes. His hands trail down your face, then lightly ghost over your chest, then find their place on your waist. Once again, you find yourself squeezing your thighs together to help relieve yourself of the pressure, which Cooper observes and finds endearingly pathetic. “Kiss me again.” A plead, at best.

He obliges you, but this time the kiss is more hungry as his body presses harder into your own, cornering you against the wall.

You pull away for a moment to breathe before he presses his lips to yours again, deepening the kiss when he tilts his head, and you desperately kiss back, moaning lightly when tongue gets added to the mix. Your hips buck up into his, meeting a certain hardness clothed by his jeans, earning another whine from you.

When he begins to pull away, you get bold this time, biting his lip lightly, before looking up through your lashes with those doe eyes of yours. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging in deliciously, sure to leave light marks and the thought makes you shiver.

As you ponder the bruises you’re sure you’ll find the next morning, he hoists you up, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck while your legs wrap around his waist. You knew he was strong, but Jesus, to experience it this way was..well…hot, to say the least.

He presses a teasing kiss to your lips before trailing his lips down, then pressing into your chin, then your neck. First, he kisses a spot on your neck, then he sinks his teeth in lightly, causing you to gasp and your hips to buck up unsuccessfully in his hold.

His lips suction over the spot he’d bit, then his tongue presses flat against the same spot, and he continues this all over the map of your neck. “I..you can’t..I’m gonna have marks all over me..” You barely get out, voice weak in protest—you and he both know you don’t actually care.

“Good.” He mutters against your skin, nipping briefly before pulling away. “I want that boy to see them—fuck, you don’t know—,” he pauses and sets you down before nudging your legs open with his knee, then presses his leg against your center, earning a strangled noise from you, “—how I felt when you told me about him.”

Your breath catches at this. He was jealous. He was jealous of that guy you briefly even mentioned to him the week before. His thigh nudges you, and you gasp before allowing yourself relief by grinding down in response, lightly moaning. “I was only trying to get over you.” You reveal to him, and Cooper looks pleased with what you said, eyes glinting. “He tried to fuck me, but he wasn’t y-you.” His leg presses harder into you. “When he kissed me, you were all I thought about.”

“I should have taken care of you sooner.” Cooper licks his lips, keeping one hand gripped on your hip and he guides it against his thigh, and the other finds its place on your neck, before gripping your face to force you to look at him when you begin to shy away, getting embarrassed at your own grinding. “So eager, getting off on my thigh like this.”

You shudder before nodding frantically, cheeks slightly mushed together in his grip. “Please, Cooper,” You beg, “please it’s not enough.” At this point you’re close to tears at the stimulation that’s just enough to relieve a bit of the throbbing between your legs, but not enough to actually get off.

“What do you want?” He’s cruel and he knows it, a sick smirk etching itself onto his face as he revels in your squirming. You can’t even get out a sentence, growing more flustered and desperate the more friction you get. “Come on, sweetheart. You can use your words can’t you?”

“Your fingers, anything, please!” You squeak out, tears almost brimming, “Please just touch me, sir.” It’s an accident that you say that, your brain’s too foggy to really think about what you’re saying, but nonetheless his breathing gets uneven and his fingers twitch against your face.

“Say it again.” He drawls in a voice just barely above a whisper as his hand trails from your face to the bottom of your sweater. His fingers lightly trace the waistband of your jeans, lightly brushing your bare hipbone before trailing up your stomach, then cupping your breast over the flowery bra you have on. He relishes in the light whine that you let out.

“Sir, please..” you supply before pushing your hips up, and he finally obliges you, a hand reaching down your pants at first, teasing you over your panties before he undoes the button of your jeans, pulling them just barely past your thighs. You look down, embarrassed that you have on some unsexy pair of panties. You really wish you’d worn your lace panties, not the pair that read out Thursday.

“It’s not Thursday.” He chuckles, amused at your choice of panties. You’re not as amused, just desperate as you whine at his teasing, hands gripping his shirt tightly.

“Just tou—!” Your complaint is cut off when he brushes his finger over your clit over the cotton of your panties. He’s still teasing, and as your about to whine again, he reaches his hand under the Thursday panties, his middle finger beginning to rub over your clit. You let out a slightly loud whine and his unoccupied hand covers your mouth.

“Can’t be too loud, sweetheart.” He mutters, eyes fixated onto your own as your eyebrows pinch together and your eyelids flutter. “So sensitive.”

You nod keenly, a silent beg. With one hand, he pulls down your panties before pushing the pointer finger of his hand covering your mouth against your lips in a shushing motion, then he kneels down, his face level with your lower region.

You’re looking down at him in shock before his mouth latches onto your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth and his hands grip onto your thighs, spreading them further.

Your hand flies over your mouth and you close your eyes tightly as your hips begin to buck into his face. One hand stays on your hip, keeping you in place while the other trails lower, his thumb tracing the slit of your cunt before a finger enters you, stretching you deliciously.

“Jesus,” he mutters as his mouth detaches from you for a moment while his finger pumps, easily hitting that sweet spot in you, “so fuckin’ tight.”

His tongue laps over you as a second digit enters you, setting itself at a ruthless pace hitting that spongy spot inside of you. It’s almost too much and you attempt to squeeze your legs shut, but his hand tightly gripping your thigh prevents your legs from closing. It won’t be long before you cum and he knows that, slowing for a moment to hear you whine before picking it up again.

“Mr. Adams, please, sir—oh, God.” your voice comes out as quiet as you can make it, “Wanna cum.” You warble out and your legs begin to give, “Please, please..”

In response to your pleads, he curls his fingers against your g-spot, making you whine out into the palm of one of your hands while the other rakes through his hair and tugs. His mouth is still latched onto your cunt, tongue beginning to press flat against your clit.

You let out one last muffled moan before coming, legs once again attempting to shut as he works you through your orgasm, fingers moving at a faster pace and somehow reaching deeper than you believed to be possible.

His tongue also picks up, and you begin to twitch and whine at the overstimulation. “It’s too much,” you pant out between your fingers, but he doesn’t let up—even at the rough tugging of his hair. “I can’t, Cooper, please..!”

At this, he finally lets up, fingers slipping out of you and mouth detaching. You’re still panting and at this point you feel boneless, taking your hand from his hair and steadying yourself against the wall instead.

Cooper rises to your height and without warning sticks his sticky fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself as your whimper around his fingers, obediently sucking. He wears that cruel smile again before stroking your head with his unoccupied hand. “You should stay the night. It’s too late to drive.”

[ahqkas]

hey i have a request! can you do theo/mattheo with a dyslexic reader? like how they would help you and how they would help your mind clear🔥. thanks if you do, if you don’t no biggie!

NOTES! hi ml i hope it’s what you were looking for && thank u for the request 🫶🏻

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THEODORE was always observant, noticing things about you that others often overlooked. when you first confided in him about your dyslexia, it wasn’t because he asked directly, but rather because he’d noticed how you hesitated whenever you had to read aloud in class, or how your notes were sometimes a jumble of letters and words that didn’t quite fit together.

“it’s not that i can’t read,” you’d explained one evening in the library, your voice low, barely above a whisper. “it just . . . gets all mixed up sometimes. it’s like my brain sees the letters, but they don’t always make sense.”

he didn’t respond immediately, which at first made you anxious, but when you finally gathered the courage to look at him, you found no judgment in his eyes — only understanding. theo was silent for a moment, processing what you’d shared. then, he nodded slowly, as if he’d just pieced together a part of the puzzle that was you.

“how can i help?” he asked simply, his voice gentle, as though he were afraid of overwhelming you.

from that day on, theo made it his mission to support you in ways that felt natural and unforced. when it came to reading, he never pushed you to do it aloud, but instead, offered to read to you, his voice calm and steady, making the words on the page come alive. whenever you wanted to try reading something yourself, he would sit beside you, patient and attentive, ready to help if you stumbled over a word or lost your place.

he even started writing notes in simpler, clearer handwriting, knowing that the usual cursive or fast scrawl many students used could be harder for you to decipher. his notes were always clean and organized, with extra spaces between lines to make it easier for your eyes to follow.

theo also helped you find strategies to cope with the difficulties. he suggested using colored overlays for your textbooks, something he’d read about somewhere. at first, you were skeptical, but when you tried it, the colors helped the letters stay in place, making it easier for your brain to process the information. he never made a big deal about it, just handed you the overlays one day without a word, and when you thanked him later, he just shrugged and smiled as if it was nothing.

when studying felt overwhelming, he’d suggest taking a break, pulling out a book of poetry or short stories that he knew you liked. he would read to you in that soft, calming tone of his, the words flowing easily from his lips, allowing you to focus on the rhythm and sound of the language rather than the struggle of reading it yourself.

MATTHEO knew you were bright, your mind sharp as a blade, but he also saw the frustration lining your eyes whenever you were handed a text-heavy assignment. you’d never mentioned it to him personally, preferring to deal with it on your own.

you sat in the quiet corner of the library and the weight of your frustration was palpable. the words on the page were a blur, a tangled mess of letters that refused to cooperate no matter how hard you tried. the more you stared, the more your mind seemed to rebel.

your boyfriend, sitting across from you, noticed the tension in your shoulders and the way your fingers gripped the edge of the table. he’d been watching you for a while, recognizing the signs of your struggle. without a word, he reached over and gently covered your hand with his, his touch warm and grounding.

"you’re doing it again," he said softly, his voice cutting through the fog in your mind.

you looked up at him, your eyes tired and defeated. "doing what?"

"trying to force it," he replied, his thumb tracing a small circle on the back of your hand. "you're not giving yourself a chance to breathe."

you sighed, pulling your hand away to rub your temples. "it just feels like i should be able to do this, you know? like, everyone else can read without it being such a hassle."

"everyone else isn't you," mattheo pointed out, his tone calm but firm. "and that’s not a bad thing."

"i know," you muttered, glancing down at the book in front of you. "but it doesn't make it any less frustrating."

he leaned back in his chair, studying you with those intense, thoughtful eyes of his. "what if we try something different?" he suggested. "take it one step at a time, like we’ve been doing."

you met his gaze, searching for any hint of pity or condescension, but found none. all you saw was his steady resolve, his quiet determination to help you however he could.

"i just feel like i’m wasting your time," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "like, you shouldn’t have to —"

"hey," mattheo interrupted, his voice gentle but insistent. "you’re not wasting my time. if anything, i’m glad i can be here for you. we’re in this together, remember?"

[szkunas]

KNOCK KNOCK, GUESS WHO! ౨ৎㅤsuguru geto.

synopsis / premise ♱ㅤwhen things in your life go well for a long time, there will undeniably be a problem knocking on your door. this time, the issue is your ex-boyfriend, wanted by the jujutsu society — who is very angry with you, even after he stole your money. || PART ONE (previous)

featuring ♱ㅤsuguru geto (jjk0 / 2017 version) x FEM reader.

warnings ♱ㅤ NSFW ♡︎ ㅤporn with very little plot ! toxic behavior ! suguru (GENOCIDAL man) ! unprotected sex (wrap it up) + unrealistic portraits of sex ! creampie ! reader and gojo are not in a relationship, but mutually interested in each other ! coercion / dub-con (both consent but just to be safe) ! genocide / death mentions (geto) ! stalking and breaking in ! bondage + choking ! spanking ! edging ! obsessed suguru agenda ! delusional suguru (you will see) ! seduction !

honorary mentions (inspirations, please read) ♱ㅤthis ask, by anon! all credits to them, i was not planning a part two, haha. whoever you are, i hope you enjoy it.

author’s note ♱ㅤso, today i was sitting down and thinking “im going to finish that yuta draft and probably start the sukuna draft for the event, since he’s winning the poll”. guess which of these two things I did? exactly. none. so, here is more suguru geto for you. i apologize in advance — i am not good at writing seduction. this is a bit rushed lol. repost because i can't see my post in tags

THERE IS NOTHING SCARIER than discovering that the person you love most is hiding a dark secret. it could be a lover, a second family, a dark past or a real, rotting present. that’s the feeling you get: everything is rotten. the walls around you and the space are shaped into a molten mist that rots as time passes, as you read the letter that someone slipped under your door.

the highly wanted criminal, suguru geto, was seen in your apartment two weeks ago, as shown in the photos below. we ask for your full and complete cooperation in the investigation, and soon some sorcerers will need to interrogate you. expect their visit at any time and answer the door when the time comes.ㅤ— the higher-ups from jujutsu society.

oh, hell. no. this cannot be happening.

as the procedure says, you burn the letter and get rid of the ashes.

although your situation is absolutely desperate, the secrecy of jujutsu comes before your disastrous love life. you turn to look for your cell phone, and the delay hurts your bones.

it seems like the object disappears when you need it most. when you find the damn phone, you don’t even hesitate. as you type the number that, at this point, your head knows by heart, your hands shake. this cannot be true. they are lying, they are trying to deceive me and defame suguru. but why? why would society need to do this?

of course, mentally, you suppress yourself. and a rational part of your brain — the part that isn’t driven by the love you feel for a man who’s been with you a long time — slowly realizes that this is the truth.

that’s why the disappearances in the middle of the night, the slight disregard for non-sorcerers touching you or him. the preference for privacy and not allowing you to post photos of the two of you together. he doesn’t have social media, he said. it feels very public. what a lie, he was actually a wanted criminal and cult leader.

no one answers the call, and you press the button once again. and again. and again. by the sixth time, you’re not sure if your hands are shaking with fear, disgust, or hate.

your money. your savings, built up after you left the witch life behind. a small guarantee of your future, a future you planned to have with suguru. a future stolen and lost, by the same man who once stole her heart. beautiful black hair and purple eyes really make a girl forget to pay attention to the red flags.

you leave voicemail after voicemail, until the box is full. then, messages. text after text while your fingertips digit furiously. it didn’t take long for you to realize that a response from him would be even worse, so your last messages were simple, direct. do not talk to me anymore. don’t ever appear in front of me again. and don’t you dare involve me in your affairs, you bastard.

pressing the send button through tears was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done in your life. and so, blocking the number seemed like the most sensible solution. it’s not like he would respond, even if you gave the number to the investigators — your exact intention.

so everything went as it should. 39 missed calls, 104 unanswered messages that changed her perspective of him forever, along with a letter that turned to ash, like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. your life took a new direction, an unpredictable metamorphosis that made you move to another address after the entire legal process on your part was concluded. you didn’t know, and you had no involvement, as hard as it was to believe. and then the sorcerers left you alone, and this was your second new start to normal life.

lonely and with a betrayed heart, in a new apartment far from your ex. unloading the last box does not bring the relief of releasing a chain, but the pain. the pain of losing something. as if the chain had tied itself to one of your ribs and ripped it away, taking a part of you.

but the tears dry. time passes. the pain diminishes, and the space that takes it in the heart is hatred. you become your priority again, and in time, you rise again only to fall again. one last effort, a call to a certain sorcerer you once knew, satoru gojo. this was his noah’s ark, his last hope before resorting to more desperate methods.

he answered. and since then, a lot has changed.

it’s been almost ten months since suguru stole your money and trampled on your love and dignity. almost ten months in which you had your heart broken, and you slowly put the pieces back together. now, your latest relationship — it’s not really a relationship.

six weeks ago, you and satoru had sex in your apartment for the first time. since then, he has been very helpful in all aspects of your life and visits you regularly. he takes you on dates and even carried you when his feet got sore from walking. it sounds crazy, feeling so comfortable with someone after just six weeks, but that’s what happens.

gojo is more than an arrogant boy who uses humor in every situation he sees, he has a heart, and a very generous one at that. despite his insistence, the credit card that was entrusted to you is rarely used (and you managed to convince him to change the password, too). his intention was to ask for help, not to become a parasite that will take as much from him as he can. not when he’s a much better person than you expected. a kind of clumsy white knight, in a cute and a bit of a loser way at the same time.

so, of course, the dates have become routine now. cinemas, walks in the park, roller skating, going for ice cream. these experiences stand out in your memories, as sweet as scenes from clichéd romance films. kisses in the rain, desperate hands pushing you into the apartment — maybe this time, you might be able to tease him a little, make him lose it and have you right there, in a dark corner? the idea is exciting, dangerous, and so stupid it makes your heart flutter.

he still owes you a new bed, though. you keep fucking on your couch because you two broke your single bed the last time you did it.

checking yourself in the mirror before a date is, naturally, what everyone does. the red dress that adorns her body is a little short, the kind of thing you see on a seductive movie character. but satoru asked for this tiny — as tiny as the dress, in his words — favor and promised anything you wanted later if you wore that and hung on his arm all night. even when he’s being a pervert, he’s just a guy who’s whipped for you.

the idea makes you take a step back. satoru can’t be in love with you. yeah, okay. he does cute things often. he takes you on dates almost every week. he’s always trying to make you laugh and has already learned most of your quirks, likes and dislikes. he remembers you throughout the day, at random intervals, and buys you things so casually that you had to beg him to stop and not max out his card bill — he just laughed and said it was all cheap anyway. heirs…

but he can’t be in love. it’s all new, recent. perfect, but maybe it’s just hidden by the love fog at the beginning of a relationship. it has already blinded you to bad signals once, and you internally wonder if you are using gojo.

of course, part of you has already thought about it. having sex with your ex’s best friend and solve your financial problems. two birds, one stone. but satoru is everything suguru is not — true. intense and real, without a mask of sweet truth that covered a rotten truth.

honestly, you don’t want to think about it too much right now. this is a conversation that should be between you and satoru, not between you and your intrusive, insecure thoughts. he deserves to know the truth and he deserves to know that you’re just as interested as he is — not on the money, but on him.

a text message makes you smile right after spraying a sweet perfume on your neck. the screen lights up with that contact that has now become your favorite.

toru <3; ㅤ already in the dress? photos or else ill die (seriously)

a small laugh escapes your throat, and you immediately prepare to take a photo. stepping back a little and posing in front of the mirror, you could swear you heard something near your apartment door while simultaneously hearing the soft click of your cell phone.

one pose to show the front, and one for the back, with a soft, evil smile. satoru isn’t your boyfriend, but with his attitude, he could very well be. he looks at you as if you were the only woman in the world, and as if he wanted you forever. it’s beautiful. it’s such a beautiful emotion to see in those blue eyes that you can’t wait for the next time you look.

after texting back, asking what time the movie starts, your eyebrows come together in a frown. omnisity takes over the environment quickly, and you swear your heart stops beating.

this energy— it cannot be.

“hi princess. missed me?”

the whisper in your ear is so sudden that you immediately turn your face to look. a hand grabs your chin and forces your head to turn back to the mirror, and you gasp, immediately struggling.

suguru geto, on the flesh, the greatest traitor to have walked the earth since judas. traitor to the jujutsu society, criminal and mass murderer, and of course — your ex-boyfriend. right behind you, and forcing you to stare at the mirror as his free hand snatches your phone away.

you hit him with your elbow, but he barely moves. humming, as if he is amused. as if you are some game. geto’s hips press forward against yours, and he efficiently traps you between the sink and him.

this cannot be happening.

what suguru doesn’t find amusing, though, is your text messages with satoru. long or short, little flirtations or obvious nudes, these messages are simply something that makes him turn his nose up in disgust. how dare him. how dare satoru take the one thing suguru truly loved that way?

“get off me.” you murmur, your eyes widening. like any sorcerer, you know the basics of defending yourself, but panic runs through your veins like poison. your muscles feel like solid stone, and you can’t stop your breath from hitching when his hand stops cupping your cheek to grab you by the throat.

he’s a criminal who definitely must have had his share of fights. you are a sorceress who has not been in the field for almost ten years. in a real fight? he could drown you in that sink and satoru would only find out hours later.

satoru. the thought makes you immediately ramble.

“don’t you dare lay a hand on me. satoru will—” he squeezes your neck softly, a silent message for you to keep your mouth shut. suguru sighs, annoyed he needs to explain it to you, word by word. he really, really likes you, but he’s not in the mood after all these games.

this small action — squeezing your neck gently — makes you remember old times. old times, not good days. because, although they were good, the memory was effectively corrupted when he left you, almost a year ago.

“satoru will not do a thing. he doesn’t know i’m here, and he won’t know.” a break. “yet.”

your eyebrows shoot up, before your face contorts into confusion. what does he mean, yet? if anyone knows he’s here, he will be executed. why would he risk it, just to see you? is he here to kill you?

the thought brings visible panics into your eyes — the wonderful, pretty eyes you have. the window to your soul. your soul and body, which suguru would like to possess again.

again, what a ridiculous term. he never stopped owning it, in the first place.

maybe if you buy time, satoru will come see what’s taking so long. he will help. you’ll be safe.

but the date is only thirty minutes, and for satoru to come in person, you would have to wait another forty. one hour and ten minutes with your genocidal ex-boyfriend. wow. this must be some kind of twisted lottery of fate, where winning makes you unlucky.

you force your voice to remain calm, composed. he does not deserve the satisfaction of your fear.

“why are you here?”

“oh, look at her.” he mocks, as if you’re not even just there, listening. “asking why i’m here as if she has no idea.”

“i don’t.” you grit your teeth. “this is why people ask, imbecile. they want answers— ugh.” he squeezes your neck again, making you grow quiet until he relaxes.

“darling.” suguru smiles softly, but some veins are popping up on his hand. he is absolutely pissed, using that sweet voice to smooth you. “you know why i’m here. don’t play dumb. you— let satoru touch you.”

his tone is still soft, affectionate as the boyfriend you once called yours. but beneath the sweetness, there is an anger, a possession. like an animal whose territory has been pierced.

“did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he leans in, his hot breath making shivers run down your spine violently. “you underestimate me, my love. i’m a bit offended. coming from you, i expected so much more.”

his hand snakes all over your body, and close as he is, you’re sure he can hear your erratic heartbeat. thump-thump. thump-thump. thump-thump.

like the engine of a machine, accelerated to its limits. if your organs are your gears, you believe you are malfunctioning right now. a poorly functioning machine due to information overload.

it’s a lot to handle. his hands are warm as they gently pull your dress up, groaning. “i barely had to move it away. what, you enjoy dressing like a slut for satoru?”

it seems like your voice only works normally, as it should, when you feel your panties being pulled down, gasping. “suguru, no! you can’t!”

“oh, i can’t? why? c’mon, darling, just the tip.” he throws your phone away — the sound the device makes when it breaks against the wall is blood-curdling. he wraps both his arms around your waist, pressing his hips to yours. “pretty please?”

you grit your teeth. why the hell is this attractive? perhaps it’s because you barely heard geto beg before. but, no. you can’t. satoru, your satoru, he’s waiting for you — instead, you have your freak ex humping slowly against you. no way, is he wearing buddhist attire? like a monk or something. but these thoughts don’t matter. his words take you out of your head.

“i saw everything that day, you know. and a little before, and after that. getting all cozy with satoru, because i’m not here? you offend me, sweetheart. i’m a bit hurt.”

“oh, i’m not hearing this.” you curl your hands into fists, slamming them on his arms. “not after you lied about who you are, stole my damn money, and left! fuck you, geto! fuck. you.”

he smirks against your ear, grabbing your wrists and pulling your arms behind your back. you groaned, and he quickly decided to hit two birds with one stone.

tugging at the clothing strip that holds his robes together, he rips it off and uses it to tie your hands together as you squirm. he gives it a little tug, confirming it’s not too tight, and throws his clothings to the other side of the room.

“i know i haven’t been here.” he pauses, and you can watch him through the mirror as he forces you a bit down. “and i’m sorry. i wanted to tell you, i did. but i couldn’t. i know what you would think, and— i couldn’t lose you.”

it’s like a sincere admission, but you’re not foolish enough to feel sorry. not for him, definitely. throwing salt at the wound is your strategy right now.

“you lost me anyway. y’know, satoru really has a way with backshots that—” your words are cut off by a gasp, when he rips your panties off you and holds you down by the back of your neck. your back does a pretty arch for him like that, but suguru is not nearly amused enough.

“don’t be a brat. i made mistakes, but you, too. whoring yourself for my best friend? are you kidding me, love?”

“i’m not your love, don’t call me that.” he grabs you by the hair, tugging your head back up to look at his eyes through his reflection.

a pause, and suguru decided against what he was going to originally say, softening his grip on you.

“i missed you. i did. can’t i show it to you? just a little, baby, please?” he presses his hips into yours a bit more gently, and you can feel it.

his rock-hard erection, rubbing softly against your warm pussy. it makes you shiver and hum against your will. a part of you misses it. nothing wrong with satoru — he’s a great learner for an inexperienced guy — but geto knows just how to blow your back and be soft at the same time. an art satoru hasn’t mastered yet.

the idea of doing this to that white haired man who is so good to you — it brings tears to your face. how dare you want to say yes? but also, how could you say no when suguru’s head is rubbing deliciously against your entrance?

you close your eyes in defeat, not able to look at yourself.

“be quick. and don’t ever ask me anything again. you get this— and you disappear from my sight. forever.”

a deal with the devil. sacrifice something and gain something. your body for peace.

he chuckles, throwing his head back with a smirk. “oh, you and i both know that’s not happening, sweetheart. i’ll be here, forever.” he slips his hands down your waist, grabbing it gently and pushing his cock in.

the feeling is— exquisite. geto could try all he wanted, search in all the world, but he never could find someone like you. your body is almost poisonous — intoxicating is the right word. he just bottomed out and he’s already mixing his thoughts. that’s the effect you have on him.

suguru’s hips start moving at a restless pace, not giving you time to breathe or a warning. he can’t waste time with words, not now. not after being pulled away from you, his beloved, for ten torturous months. just when he was planning to come back and convince you to join his cult — or just grab you and lock you up, whatever —, he found you riding his best friend. sinking down satoru’s cock and making him cream all inside you.

the idea makes him huff, thrusting harder.

and you, under him? with your wrists tied up? well, you’re a mess. you’ll have to try bondage with satoru later, it’ll surely make his cock explode. your eyes widen, and you babble something — what’s wrong with your head? why are you thinking about satoru, then, suguru, then satoru again?

oh, lord above, maybe both at the same time? it’s a fantasy that makes you blush more than what you’re doing right now.

suguru guides your head up again, holding your neck gently.

“what are you thinking about, love? you keep—” he grunts. “clenching down on me.”

“nothing,” you stammer out. okay, there is something seriously wrong with you for enjoying this so much. a moan escapes you before you can stop it. “nngh— satoru!”

his eyes widen at the same time as yours. if your hands weren’t tied up, you would have brought one up to your mouth. the squeezing on your neck is firm, enough to not cut air circulation, but present. surely. the whisper of your name echoes through the bathroom.

“what did you just say?”

he looms over you, blushed cheeks and vulnerable expressions changing all the time, staring at your dumb little face in the mirror. suguru has a soft frown on his face, his eyes wide in horror, and his lips are slightly parted. but there’s a dark shadow oozing off him, a rage that cannot be contained.

he’s hurt. he’s mad.

you try to justify it quickly, to do damage control. “suguru! i said— i said suguru!”

but it’s a little too late for that, and lies only make it worse. he pins you down harder, his hips moving back at a ruthless pace this time. harder, faster — no mercy or trace of the sweet man who used to make love with you as if you were made of glass.

now, he fucks you as if he hates you, he hates your guts.

your moans and whines are muffled by the obscene sounds escaping where your hips meet. plap plap plap, mixed with a softly, slightly wet whisper of some sort. suguru lets go of your waist and brings his hand up.

you gasp when it hits the back of your thigh in a loud smack!

he forces you to look up, breathless as he murmurs.

“start counting.” he groans, harshly. and he smacks you again, right on the ass. he’s hitting so hard that you believe his intention is leaving a red mark — a present for satoru to look at later. and you’re right. his friend knows no boundaries and keeps taking what is his. what choice does he has, unless to mark you up?

smack.

you shiver, trying to squirm away and kick before he pins you down again.

“behave, brat. now start counting.”

smack.

“one—” you moan when his heat hits your sweet spot, huffing. smack. “two.”

“good girl.” smack. smack. smack. “how many is that, princess, mm? ohh, that’s the good pussy i missed so much. so— tight.”

“ngh! three! four! f—five?”

“is that a question, or are you answering me, my love?”

he chuckles meanly, thrusting into you again. you both grunt — near the edge already.

“suguru.” you throw your head back, whimpering. “i’m— i’m gonna—”

“ohh, you’re going to cum? that fast, honey? satoru hasn’t been good enough to you, i see.” he thrusts harder, laughing meanly at the way your eyes widen and tear up. “aww, he can’t treat you like you want. he fucks you like a good girl, i bet. but you want to be fucked like a slut.”

he leans down, peppering your neck with kisses and hearing your deep breaths. “it’s okay. i’m close, too. you have this effect on me, my love.” he grunts again, grabbing your hips. “throw that ass back on me, baby, yeah? yeah, juuuust like that.”

he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up as he presses his lips to yours in a upside down kiss. it would be romantic if it weren’t so possessive, visceral, crude. carnal. desperate.

when your lips part, he grunts and sighs softly, while you’re moaning loudly. nearly at the same time, your orgasms hit you both with everything.

suguru’s thrusts become messy, sloppy, and his skin feels a bit sticky against yours as he fucks himself using your pussy, pushing in ropes of cum to paint your insides.

you let your head fall forward when it’s your turn, squirming and whimpering softly. his forehead would have hit the sink if he weren’t holding you up. some more seconds, to dry out both of your highs. slowly, gently, he pulls out of you, watching the fat drops oozing out of your used hole.

suguru smirks as he undoes your restraints, kissing the back of your neck tenderly and adjusting your dress.

“don’t forget who has you first, mkay? i left a little gift for you and satoru here.” he sighs, sounding a bit sad. “i’ll have to go again, i’m sorry. but i’ll be back soon. don’t miss me too much. just leave your window unlocked, and i’ll be here again.” he grabs your face to turn it again, brushing his lips against yours. “unlocking them is a chore.”

geto leans back, and you shiver, confused. the sound of clothes being adjusted and thrown back into a body makes you turn your head moments after you heard it, still a bit too slow.

and he is gone. as you fix yourself up on your feet, you shiver as the realization hits you hard as a stone. no, no. satoru. no.

you stumble to the corner of the bathroom, picking up your phone. the screen is broken, but a call icon appears. you accept immediately, nearly sobbing.

“hey, senpai,” the nickname is soft coming from his lips. a small joke, playing with an honorific that he does not use with figures he should use. “you’re— a bit late. did something came up, or?”

“satoru.” you sob, and even through the screen, you can feel him tense up. his voice becomes more serious.

“what happened? are you okay? where are you? i’m on my way.” the scraping of a chair can be heard in the background of the call.

“i’m— my apartment. i have something to tell you. we need to talk, seriously, we—”

you shiver, and for some reason, you can picture your ex perfectly — walking proudly, with his nose up, the wind making his black hair flow behind him and cruel, purple eyes accompanied by a soft smirk.

“i made a mistake.”

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY MISTAKES.ㅤthank you for reading! <3

[loving-strawberry]

✶Stray Kids reacting to their s/o ignoring when she's being sexualized✶ (HCS)

Summary: You are being sexualized by people because of your body, but you're so used to this, that you simply choose to ignore that.

It was a request!

A little note: To the person who requested, if you read this, I'm really sorry for what is happening to you:( Also, I couldn't really do exactly as you asked me, because my brain is refusing to cooperate with me sometimes! But I hope you like it!

Warning: Swearing. Some comments about body parts. Mention of food and drinks. Probably some writing errors.

Genre: A bit of angst. Fluff. (I don't know other ones???)

Pairing: Bf!Skz x Fem!Reader

Bang Chan☆

He was simply shocked when this happened for the first time in front of him

You two were just taking a stroll in a park, enjoying together your little time off both of you had that same day, which is a pretty rare occasion

And all of a sudden you hear some nasty and disgusting comments about your body coming from an old man

While poor Chan was feeling sick hearing that someone could say something like this in the a public space, without feeling ashamed of themselves, you simply ignored it

"My love, how could you just ignore something like that? Do you want me to go and talk to him??"

"Channie, it's ok. I'm used to it by now."

Now he's even more shocked

What do you mean used to it???

How many times did this happened???

Why didn't you told him anything yet???

He has so many questions and he feels so bad that there's not much he can do about your situation...

Lee Minho☆

This was happening as the two of you were on a date at a restaurant

And one man who was sitting at the next table, was looking intensely at your chest, even throughout your shirt

You just ignored his gross looks and focused on other things

But your boyfriend couldn't

He was pissed.

He doesn't want to accept that someone is looking at you like you're some kind of object and you to just ignore it like it's a normal thing

Even if it is normal for you, unfortunately

"You need to stand up for yourself when this happens!"

"Why? It's much more easier to just ignore them and don't show any reaction. They wouldn't understand anyway."

If you don't stand up for yourself when this happens to you, he will

And next time this happens, Minho will send deadly glares towards the people who dares sexualize you in any way

If that doesn't work, he'll go and have a little talk with them

You will need to stop him before getting his ass in trouble with JYP

Seo Changbin☆

This one takes place at the gym

You were doing some squats, and a group of men was constantly checking your butt and disgustingly smirking at each other

And of course, doing unnecessary comments

Wants to have a little talk with them part 2... Even though he's outnumbered

But stops when he sees that you don't give a flying fuck about this whole situation

"Babe, you really don't care? The way they commented about your body is unacceptable and disgusting..."

"Bin, I'm used to it. It's happening more often than you think."

Now he's all pouting, sad and disappointed with himself for not noticing sooner

And of course, disappointed with the people who can do such things

"You shouldn't be used to this, babe..."

Hwang Hyunjin☆

During one of your photoshoots for modeling, the photographer was starting to make you pose more and more sexy

Indecent actually

Like, almost Playboy style

But you just tried to brush it off

On the other hand, Hyunjin, who came along with you just to keep you company during this session, wasn't exactly happy about what just happened

He's having a pit in his stomach after all of that and you can tell he's angry

He will just tell the photographer to fuck off and takes you out of that place as fast as possible

"Hyunnie, what's wrong??"

"You're seriously asking this...? You've just been sexualized and you're asking me what's wrong?"

"It was happening so many than you could think off... I just don't care too much anymore."

Now he's furious and grossed out.

Of course Hyunjin wouldn't let you go back to the same photographer, despite your reassurances that everything is fine

And he'll search himself for someone else who to be trusted with you

Han Jisung☆

(I don't have any ideas of scenarios here🙃)

You two went out for some ice cream, and suddenly someone says something like 'I have something better for you to lick'

Han is about to go and deal with him, until you stop him

"Ji, don't waste your time with that."

"But-..."

"Just ignore him."

He's honestly confused as to how unbothered you are

Makes him question himself how many times did this happened before and never noticed

"Does... Does this happened frequently...?"

"Yeah."

"HUH?!?"

He'll start from now on to look after you and pay attention to your surroundings constantly

Lee Felix☆

You both were at a TV show when this happens and having an interview

After a while, the hosts attention is focused just on you and starts telling suggestive jokes about you

Probably to entertain who's watching the show

But you don't pay attention at all to them

Felix by now is mad.

And a little disappointed that you don't react at all about this

You know the expressions he always have when he's jealous/mad about something?

Yeah... That's how I'm imagining him right now

Moving on...

After the show is over, of course he'll start questioning you

"How could you just brush those jokes off like you being sexualized is a normal thing???"

"Because it's a normal thing, unfortunately."

"What...?"

Poor Felix, he will probably start crying after hearing this :(

Kim Seungmin☆

(Out of ideas part2)

Location for this one?

The beach.

You are wearing a one piece costume, not feeling like showing too much skin this time

But this never stopped two man to approach you

And starts make unnecessarily comments about how you should wear a bikini instead, because that's what men wants to see

Seungmin went to get you two drinks, and right when they said those gross things, he came back

He expected you to say something back to those men

But you straight up ignored them and started scrolling on your phone

Leaving Seungmin to get rid of the pests

He just fake tripped on his own feet and threw the cold drinks, with ice in them, on the men skin

Skin that probably was warm of because how much they stood in the sun

They just scattered away in the contact with the extremely cold liquids, and muttering some curses under their breaths

"I didn't know you can be so lame to not talk back in these situations."

"I talked back enough. No one listened. So I don't bother anymore."

"... I'll go grab other drinks..."

Most likely feels bad for saying that now that he knows you're struggling with this everyday

Will make sure to be the who speaks up for you next time something similar happens again

Yang Jeongin☆

I.N was doing a live, with you being somewhere in the background, laying in bed and minding your own business

You were also reading some of the comments that people had left in I.N chat, from your phone

Both of you saw a pretty nasty comment left from a "fan" about your body and how hot you looked laying like that in bed

But neither of you said anything about it

I.N didn't said anything, cuz he hopped you didn't saw it

You just ignored the comment, truth be told

Shortly after that comment was left in poor boy's chat, he ended it, feeling too sick to continue the live

"Are you ok, Innie? You look a little pale..."

"Y-Yeah... It's just... I read a comment that made me feeling unsettled."

"Oh? The one about me? I just ignored it. I've gotten even worse."

If I.N wasn't pale before, he is now

He just couldn't understand how anyone could say something like this so easily

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

✧ Masterlist ✧

✧ Tag List ✧

@bangchansbae @tattywood @nebulousbrainsoup @https-skzology

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hello, I hope you are having a good day or night so far. I just wanted to ask if the monster!au pregnancy fic is still on the table or if it's making your brain unhappy and needs to go on the shelf to think about what it's done?

Either way is fine The most important thing is your mental health. *Finger guns*

Hey! I'm doing okay for the most part. Work and life in general has just been busy as heck, so I've been just working on art and writing for personal enjoyment.

The fic is still coming along well enough! I just wound up having to rewrite from the beginning to get a better flow, and now I'm just dealing with some of the boys being jerks and not cooperating with me 😂 But I am going to be triumphant soon enough! I only have three of the dorm reactions to go before the inevitable chaos. >v>

And just so you guys know, this currently has 9 pages worth of words (size 9 font, by the way), and I'm still not done. This thing is going to be LOOOOOONG compared to some of my other chapters I've posted! 😂

I appreciate the understanding, but not to worry! It's just my perfectionist editing mind that keeps stalling me 😒 But just to show you that progress is being made, I've attached a snippet I've written of a scene that I wanted to add!

Hope you all enjoy, and I'm excited to get closer and closer to finishing it! ÙvÚ

////SNIPPET STARTS BELOW////

It was late at night when Jamil was working in the school cafeteria, requiring the ingredients in the kitchen to make a late night meal for Kalim since the dorm’s kitchen needed a few repairs. The pans sizzled and pots boiled as he stirred and cooked, his hands moving with speed and precision honed by years of cooking. Despite it being late at night, part of him did appreciate the time alone from the dorm to think in private.

Taking a sip of the broth, he hummed in thought before adding some spices to the soup. Just as he was about to sample it again, his ear twitched when he heard movement behind him and turned. “Miss Yuu?” he asked, surprised to see Yuu standing there holding a plate to her chest. By now she was in her eighth month of pregnancy, her stomach swollen to the size of a large watermelon. “What are you still doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said sheepishly. “Since the due date is getting closer, the researchers moved me to a new room here in the school just in case. It’s easier for them to get to me here than it is to Ramshackle. So I thought walking around a little would help, but then I smelled something good and…well…”

When she hesitated, he asked, “Pregnancy cravings again?”

She nodded. He hummed in thought. Apparently human cravings during pregnancy was no different than how monsters would instinctively do the same to sustain themselves and their unborn children. “A lack of food sources can have a negative effect the body,” one researcher explained once when he’d been passing by the infirmary during one of Yuu’s exams. “Whether human or monster, if the expecting mother doesn’t eat enough to sustain the pregnancy or produce the milk needed to feed the baby, her body will begin to take its own nutrients. This can be dangerous and increase the risk of her breaking her bones, so that’s why it’s important to ensure Yuu has an ample supply of food at her disposal at such a critical stage.”

Knowing this, Jamil held out his hand and smiled. “The soup isn’t done yet, but you can have some of the main dish in the meantime,” he told her, dishing out the food from the skillet. “It’s a simple meal from the Land of Scalding Sands, but I know Kalim wouldn’t mind sharing it with you.” With a deadpan smile, he said, “In fact, he’d insist on it if he were here.”

“Thank you so much!” she said, accepting the offered plate and pausing to breathe in the aroma. He could practically see her drooling before she dug in, happily humming as she sat in the nearby stool. “Oh my gosh, this is so good…can you teach me how to make this?”

“Sure,” he said with a genuine smile. “I know you can’t control your cravings, so if you ever want more, just let me know.”

“Thank you!”

They spent some time casually chatting as the soup finished cooking, the gorgon feeling at ease around her. By the time the soup was done and he’d put some in a container for her, he handed another plate of the main dish to her and bid her good night. As she waddled away, he couldn’t shake the image of a penguin returning triumphantly from a hunt and stifled a snort of amusement.