#and then remembered most people are probably sleeping in

[callmecoke]

sugar baby headcanons!

CW: Mention of sex work, This is sfw generally but still deals with adult topics so proceed with caution.

Tf141 x reader

What you’ve realised about your favourite mystery account is that A) it's run by multiple people, and B) At least one of them is called Price.

You can’t exactly pinpoint who the rest are or how many, but you’ve managed to identify a few common themes when interacting with the account.

First, you know who Price is, and you can almost always tell it's him when he’s interacting with you. He’s the one you go to first regarding bills and fees you physically can’t pay. Within seconds, he transfers you the money and never lets you thank him for any of it. He also does his weekly check-ins to make sure everything is good. “Have you eaten?” “How’d you sleep?” “Did you take your meds last night?” That kind of thing. He’s also the one who calls you ‘Dolly’, a nickname he reserved for you. 

But you're also pretty sure this other guy (Simon) lurks in the chat when you’re streaming. He won’t ask questions; he just sends you random tips throughout the stream while he watches silently. He’s not as talkative as Price or the others, and that’s kind of how you know it's him. But you’ve realised that just because he’s quiet doesn't mean he doesn't want to talk. It’s quite the opposite. He enjoys hearing you talk about your life and day and silently rewards you. When you DM him, you even get a little conversation. Nothing more than money and a “Nice”, but still conversation nonetheless.

You know one other fellow spends most of his time in the livestreams and not in your DMs (Gaz). He’s the one who engages with you in conversation the most, asking endless questions about your life. And he always comes back on the next live stream, remembering everything you said in the last. He’ll want the update on that project you were working on for school or if that job interview went as well as you both had hoped. If you weren’t Live to complete strangers, you’d probably open up to him about stuff you’ve never told anyone.

Now…One more person shows up now and again, mainly in your DMs. Part of the service for the website is that people can pay you to take a selfie and give it to them. They can be dirty or completely innocent; it all depends on what you’re advertising. There’s this one person who rather frequently asks for pictures of you, especially those with you smiling. You know it’s a different guy from the others you’ve spotted because he’s the only one who's outright flirtatious with you. Initially, you were wary. A man spending a lot of money on pictures of your face and upper body just screams trouble. But you grew to trust the account, so when you sent them the image, you were surprised by how quickly he showered you with praise.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’ll give a strong man a heart attack walking around that gorgous.”

“Makes me wonder how cute you look in person.” “I’m surprised no ones come along and snatched you up all ready. Can’t complain though. Means I get more of you to myself.”

You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a slight blush on your cheeks after reading his responses.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

The thing is, Evie knows she’s a pushover.

She’s loud, sure, once she gets to know someone, and she likes to laugh and needle and tease, but she isn’t brave, not really. Last week when her chem partner hadn’t written his half of their assignment Evie had written it for him even though it took all night because she figured it was better than confronting him. When she was in second grade and Trip Lewitt stole her lunch every day for a year she never once stood up to him, and last Tuesday when Sandy had asked to borrow her lipgloss and hadn’t given it back, Evie hadn’t said a word.

So yeah, she’s a pushover and she knows it. But the thing is, she doesn’t need to be brave because she has Steve. 

Steve, who had given her his jacket and let her sleep in his car because she was nodding off in math after she was up all night writing that paper. Steve, who had pushed Trip Lewitt into the chain link fence when he caught him snatching her lunch one day and then made him eat dirt. Steve, who could tell she was put out about something last week even if he didn’t know exactly what so he’d bought her a milkshake and it meant she’d had just enough change to replace her lipgloss herself.

Steve Randle is the furthest thing from a coward Evie has ever met. He’s so brave she doesn’t need to be, but sometimes he makes her brave too. 

They’ve been friends for as long as Evie can remember. Her mom used to be friends with Steve’s mom before Steve’s mom left him behind, ensuring Evie would hate her forever even if she’ll never see her again. Evie’s been around long enough that Mr. Randle knows who she is- a rare feat from the man who goes from loving his son one day to hating him the next. Steve has slept over at her house, she’s bought him birthday gifts every year since she got her first job at twelve, and everyone always assumes they’re dating because he’s protective in a way most guys only get around their girls. 

They’re not dating though. It isn’t like that. She’s not in love with Steve, has never loved anyone that way; and Steve only has eyes for his blonde haired best friend who loves him but not enough, not like Steve loves him, in the kind of way that makes the world shake. 

Even still, she usually tells Steve everything. He’s her best friend even if she isn’t his, and she needs him more than she cares to admit. She never feels safer in the world than when she’s sitting beside him at the drive-in with his jacket around her shoulders, or throwing fries at him at the diner while they shit talk Sodapop’s latest girlfriend or scheme how to prank their horrific spanish teacher. 

Right now he’s down the hall half wrestling with Sodapop and Johnny Cade, laughing and as happy as he ever gets. She could join them if she wanted to, just walk up and say hello and she’d be safe. Steve would take one look at her and know something was wrong, even if she tried to hide it, and he’d walk her to class with an arm around her shoulders and a murderous glare on his face he’d give to anyone who dared glance in her direction.

As she watches, Sodapop ruffles Steve’s hair and he beams. It lasts half a second before it’s replaced with his usual scowl, but it’s enough for Evie to make a decision. He just looks so happy. Even on a good day Steve is probably one of the saddest people she’s ever met, and it drives her half crazy sometimes because if anybody deserves the truest happiness the world has to offer it’s stubborn, gentle, scowling, deadly kind Steve Randle. The fact that this kind of lightness in him is so rare is a travesty, and she won’t be the one to ruin it. She can’t. She won’t.

She sighs and pulls the sleeve of her shirt down further. Not that anyone would notice the bruise on her wrist anyway, but the purple is ugly and Sandy always says purple isn’t her colour. 

*********************

“I was thinkin’ we should maybe go to that drag race out by the rodeo grounds this weekend when I get off work. I heard from Cindy who’s sister is going with Two-bit Mathews that Sodapop’ll probably be there an’ I want him to see me in that new skirt I got.”

Sandy is jabbering on about her latest plan to attract the attention of one Sodapop Curtis- an unfortunate recent development that has left Evie between a rock and a hard place between trying to keep Sandy away from Soda while not spilling why she’s so against her friend pursing the blonde. Luckily, Sodapop is a typical idiotic fifteen year old, and barely has eyes for anyone longer than a week, and as such, has not yet noticed- or responded to- any of Sandy’s advances. Evie can see this, but whenever she points it out Sandy reminds her that she has an advantage other girls don’t considering Evie’s boyfriend is Sodapop’s best friend. She refuses to believe that Steve isn’t Evie’s boyfriend, and further refuses to believe that despite how close Evie is to Steve, she has little more than an acquaintance with the Curtis boy. 

It’s only a matter of time before she asks Evie to try and get Steve to convince Soda to go on a double date with them, in which case Evie will refuse without an explanation and Sandy will give her the silent treatment for a week. Evie’s trying not to think about it.

“Sure,” she agrees half heartedly, dodging the stuck out foot of some soc girl as they make their way down the hall, “I’m coverin’ the evenin’ shift for Corrin though so I might not be able to stay-”

She cuts herself off abruptly, books tumbling out of her arms as she locks eyes with him.

He’s standing in a group of football players, a junior to her sophomore, and he’s big, terrifyingly so, muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. Half the hallway had turned at the commotion of her dropping her books but he hardly spares her a glance, blue eyes glinting cruelly as he gives her an unimpressed once over and turns back to his friends. 

It’s yet another slight, another reason for her to despise him though it does nothing to assuage her fear. She still remembers the feel of him pinning her against a locker, remembers the feel of his hot breath against her ear and the way his friends had jeered and catcalled, names she was used to but that stung all the same.

She doesn’t have to remember the terror- she’s feeling it again right now.

“-vie? Evie? Hello?” Sandy is giving her an exasperated look, Evie’s discarded books are piled in her arms- when did she pick them up? “Earth to Evie! Are you back with us?”

She sounds annoyed but her eyes are dart to a group of senior soc girls who are giggling and whispering behind their hands, then to the football players and him. Sandy’s nervous, she realizes, and then realizes why. They’re already at enough of a disadvantage being greasy girls. They can’t afford to be weird too, and Evie’s already enough of a freak as it is. 

“Sorry,” she forces a smile, takes her stack of books with trembling hands, “sorry I just got a wicked headache all of a sudden.”

“You’re probably dehydrated,”  Sandy seizes her arm and practically drags her down the hallway, head high even as a wave of giggle and whispers claw at them, “it’s thirty degrees out, an’ you’re wearin’ long sleeves like you ain’t never seen Oklahoma summer before.”

“Yeah,” Evie ignores the twinge of her wrist and the pounding of her heart, “I bet that’s it.”

*****************

She spends the rest of the day jumpy and tense. Sandy tires of her newfound jitters quickly and jumps on an invitation from Kelsey Morrone to go out for a smoke a little too eagerly. Evie hardly has it in herself to mind.

She doesn’t start to calm down until last period and it’s only because Mr. Horton’s geography class is so boring it trumps all other emotions. Sandy isn’t in this class either, which means they can’t even write notes to pass the time.

Her anxiety ramps up the second the bell rings. She’s all too aware of the possibility she might run into him in the hallway, and everything in her screams that that cannot happen. She takes extra care as she packs away her things, prolonging the inevitable, and then regrets it when she realizes she has no crowd to blend into as she steps into the hallway. Luckily her locker isn’t too far from the math wing, so she keeps her head down and walks quicker than usual and makes it there without any further disaster.

It’s not until the familiar scent of motor oil and fabric softener envelops her and she feels a slight tug on her braid that she finally relaxes. 

“Hey doll.”

“Hey yourself,” she swats at Steve halfheartedly, tucking her braid back behind her ear from where he’d tossed it over her shoulder.

“Hey,” he takes her hand gently- he’s always gentle with her- and pushes her sleeve up slightly, revealing the horrible mottled purple and blue bruise, “what happened?”

All day she’d sat next to Sandy and she hadn’t noticed a thing. Not a single teacher had glanced at her twice, not even when her english teacher handed back their essays and her sleeve had slipped, and yet Steve had noticed within the first minute of being here.

She looks into his eyes, at the anger hiding beneath his concern, at the scowl twisting his face that had been so happy just this morning, and makes a decision.

Even if she’s spent most of her day waiting for a chance to talk to him, she can’t let Steve Randle fight her battles forever. 

“Nothing,” she pulls her hand away and pulls her sleeve back down, “don’t worry about it.”

“Evie-”

“Steve,” she cuts him off, “it’s fine, really. What’s up?”

“I wanted to know if you an’ Sandy wanted a ride home.” He says, eyes still locked at where her bruise is hidden away under blue fabric. She can tell he desperately wants to ask for more details, just like he knows that she won’t offer any. 

“Ain’t you playin’ chauffeur to your buddies?”

“Not today,” he shakes his head, black hair glinting in the afternoon sun as they meander out the doors. He takes her backpack without seeming to think about it, slinging over his shoulder, and Evie hides her amusement at the fact that for all he’s a tough greaser he’s secretly a gentleman, “Two-bit’s takin’ the kid and Johnny, an’ Soda’s walkin’ over to the DX for work.”

“Well Sandy’s got plans with Carmen,” Evie tells him, “But I wouldn’t say no to a ride.”

Some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders when she mentions Sandy’s busy. It’s no secret he’s not exactly a fan of her, thinks she’s sharper than she needs to be with Evie and hates her for it, the stupidly protective person that he is, not realizing that’s just who Sandy is. Still, it was nice of him to extend the invitation to her in the first place. She wonders for the millionth time how Steve got a reputation for being an asshole when he does stuff like offer a girl he hates a ride home without thinking, just because she’s a friend of Evie’s. 

“You wanna stop for a milkshake on the way home?” Steve asks, tossing their bags in the back seat, and rolling down the window. If it was hot outside, it’s a million degrees in the car, but she fights the urge to roll up her sleeves, not wanting to give him a better look at her bruise if she can help it. “I’ll pay.”

She considers his offer. First of all, damn him for knowing her so well- ice cream has always been her biggest weakness. Normally she’d say yes without hesitation, but his offer today is very obviously a ploy, a scheme, a bribe if you will, to trick her into talking about the bruise and Him, and she has decided already that she won’t. To sit across from Steve, while he looks at her with sad eyes and tries to sweet talk her into talking is not part of her plan. 

“Not today,” she shakes her head and offers him a smile, “I'm beat.”

“I can see that,” he mutters under his breath, but doesn’t protest, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

It’s a quiet ride home. Normally they’d chat and tease each other, but Steve’s mood is sour and she’s hesitant to start a conversation because she’s famously bad at keeping secrets and Steve knows that better than anyone. If he got her talking, sooner or later she’d let something slip and all bets would be off.

Fifteen minutes later he pulls up in front of her house and cuts the engine with a sigh.

“Thanks for the ride,” she presses a kiss to his cheek and goes to leave.

“Wait, Eves,” he catches her hand, the rough calluses on his skin at odds with the softness of the movement, “just- you know I got your back, right? No matter what.”

He’s so earnest, so worried. 

“Yeah,” she smiles, heart swelling with gratitude for this dumb boy who came into her life and never thought once about leaving, “I know.”

He holds her gaze a moment more and nods, clearing his throat abruptly.

“I’ll give you a ride to school tomorrow. Sandy’s welcome too if she wants.”

“Thanks.” She smiles, squeezing his hand and trying to put all her gratitude into it before she lets him go, closing the door gently behind her.

He doesn’t drive away until she’s safely inside, the door locked behind her. He never does.

***********

“Mornin’ doll.”

“Mornin’,” she hands him a piece of still warm bannock wrapped in a tea towel, and he shoves half of it into his mouth in one bite, humming appreciatively. If there’s one thing she knows Steve loves, it’s her mom’s baking.

He inhales the rest of the bread before speaking.

“Sandy comin’?” 

“Nah, she’s gettin’ a ride with Carmen.”

He nods and starts the engine, the car coming to life with a purr. It’s not as quiet as some of the socs fancy ass cars, but it’s the quietest tin can in all the east side and it’s all because of Steve’s magic with mechanics. She always feels an unearned swell of pride on his behalf whenever she sits in this car, stupid as it is.

It’s not until they’re halfway to Will Rodgers that she notices Steve’s hands are torn up and bruised, every knuckle split. 

They definitely weren’t like that yesterday.

“You get into a rumble or somethin’ last night? What happened to your hands?”

“Oh, that,” Steve waves a ruined hand dismissively, “don’t worry about it.”

“Steve-”

“Evie-” he mocks, flipping their argument from yesterday, “really. It’s fine.”

“I know it’s fine, that ain’t what I asked!”

He pulls into the parking lot and cuts the engine before turning to her with a sigh, 

“You really wanna know?”

“Yes!”

“Well, I heard a rumour somewhere that some of the football team- a certain captain in particular- have started to get a bit brazen in how they’ve been treating some east side girls. And Sylvia Devares seemed to think maybe Angel had mentioned something about you showin’ up late to spanish last week and shaking like a spooked horse. So me’n the boys decided it was time to have a little talk with the dear captain and his buddies.”

“You didn’t have to do that," gratitude and shame swirl in her gut, “I can’t expect you to fight my battles forever.”

He lets out an inelegant snort.

“Of course you can,” he says, so matter-of-fact she couldn’t argue with him if she wanted to, “I meant what I said yesterday: I always got your back. Always. Even if you don’t wanna talk about things, I’m always gonna be here for you.”

Yeah, she realizes, he really is, always has been always will be. It doesn’t matter if she’s a pushover or not, he’ll always have her back.

How did she get so lucky?

[clonerightsagenda]

Since it is self-indulgence Saturday, even though this is not podcast girls related in its entirety, I decided to follow in Kate's footsteps and post the outline for a Wolf 359 PMV I have been thinking about for years but can't make to shake everyone by the shoulders and say "do you understand my vision".

It's set to Marianas Trench's "Masterpiece Theatre III." If you are asking yourself 'Hey Kat was this inspired by that one really big lyricst-" what about it. The first and last lines are perfect fits when taken literally, idk what to tell you.

I got a new disease in me Eiffel coughing, Hilbert offering ‘nicotine’ lozenges I got a friend that's losing sleep Hilbert bent over a microscope, Minkowski’s silhouette peering in through the lab door I take it hard, it's hard to take Minkowski frowning and writing a letter starting with Dear Dominik I'm wide awake Hera surrounded by screens showing all three of those previous scenes I'm wide awake Outside shot of the station framed against the star

One more confession, Eiffel speaking into the recorder discretion's not what I need to sell his words broadcasting into deep space I never needed a reason for keeping secrets from myself Anne’s photo taped under his console And now that's just how I tell Hilbert leaning over Eiffel’s shoulder as music plays. Hilbert’s gaze flicks toward him I'm wide awake Eiffel with the gas mask surrounded by knockout gas

I'll wreck this if I have to Minkowski outside the station pounding on the airlock door Tell me what good would that do Eiffel lighting his last cigarette I'll wreck this if I have to Hilbert ripping out Hera’s personality matrix

(I'd be so good to you) Carter shaking Dmitri Volodin’s hand in his Russian apartment (I'd be so good to you) Rachel introducing Minkowski to Hilbert as her science officer at Canaveral

You get separated, somebody's gone Eiffel playing chess with the auto program And I don't know how this is wrong The crew arguing over Hilbert, Hera with a skull speech bubble and Eiffel with handcuffs And I'm so frustrated, falling behind Disheveled Minkowski hunting the plant monster You were a friend of mine Lovelace pushing Hilbert up against the wall, her hands around his throat

I'd be so good to you Lovelace taking Hilbert to lunch at her insistence 'Cause they don't know you like I do Flashbacks to Lovelace’s mission They don't know you like I do Lovelace horrified seeing Eiffel getting sick, flashback to Lambert sick the same way They don't know you like I do Hera viewing Eiffel in the medbay through her screens, a bunch of metrics on blood ox, heartrate, etc. pulled up They don't know you like I do The whole crew staring at the comms as it speaks with Eiffel’s voice

*** Instrumentals: Star changes color ***

There's a difference from me to them Lovelace shoving Minkowski out of the way and getting impaled And the road home is paved in star fuckers requiem Eiffel desperately piloting the rickety shuttle I can never go, go back home again Lovelace’s monitor flatlining (Acadia is gone) Acadia is gone The shuttle exploding and disappearing into the distance

All my indecision, all of my excess Don't you ever tell me I'm not loving you best Cutter in his swanky office receiving the distress call, juxtaposed with Minkowski, breath puffing out from the cold, placing the call. Cutter is dominant in the visuals, with Minkowski as an afterthought And I just need a minute, I just need a breath It's very hard to drink to my continued success and I, I will Rachel Young handing a mission dossier to a shadowy figure. Again Hera’s schematics showing the percentage of the station systems in crisis are present but pushed to the side, peripheral slow down, slow Eiffel half dead slumped over the shuttle console It's better in the worst way The Urania overshadows Eiffel’s shuttle It's getting better in the worst way SI5 looming over him in the open hatch, smiling unpleasantly

(Look around, round, look around, round, look around) (Look around, round, look around, round, look around) (Look around, round, look around, round, look around) (Look around, round, look around, round, look around) Timelapse showing an external view of the station changing – original layout, stress fractures, Urania parked next to it, wing getting blown off (rip Blessie… or not???), Urania getting integrated into the structure

So here's another day, I'll spend away from you Minkowski floating leaning her head against a window. Maybe holding a wedding ring Another night I'm on another broken avenue Eiffel’s mugshot on the console Trading in who I've been for shiny celebrity skin Hilbert getting his wrist slammed in the drawer, his careful samples going flying I like to push it and push it until my luck is over Lovelace staring down Kepler over the chess board

I wonder what you're doing, I wonder if you doubt it Kepler sipping his scotch and gesturing to it, presumably giving The Whiskey Speech. Maxwell and Jacobi in the background pretending to gag I wonder how we used to ever go so long without it Kepler handing Jacobi his business card at the bar All the work to impress, charming girls out of their dresses Maxwell at Hyperion’s house with Kepler surrounded by fancy readouts Smiling pretty and pretty Maxwell and Hera looking at each other on the mindscape beach

I am right beside you, right (I thought you wanted me) (What you want, what you need) Jacobi outside pounding on the capsule, Jacobi inside horrified, Maxwell indecisive I am right beside you, right (I thought you wanted me) Lovelace and Hilbert vs the dentist chair from hell (What you want, what you need) Minkowski attempting to phone home I'll make this perfect again Minkowski slamming her fist into her palm in the hidden room, decision to mutiny (I thought you wanted me) (What you want, what you need) (Cross my heart, I hope to die, hope to die) If I burn out and slip away Lovelace tied to a chair next to Eiffel in the armory, expression defiant. Countdown ticking over the image: 10, 9, 8, 7, 3, 2, 1. When the countdown gets to 1, Lovelace closes her eyes. (What you want, what you need) (Cross my heart, I hope to die, hope to die) (I thought you wanted me) (What you want, what you need) You're beautiful, you are A bloodspattered Lovelace’s eyes snapping open as she’s wreathed in blue light

I've been here so very long Eiffel facing Bob in the hotel room. Stars popping up in Bob's speech bubble to indicate the many systems they've done this with (I could slip into you, it's so easy to come back into you) Restraining bolted crewmembers smiling at an imprisoned Lovelace I'll hide it, can I hide in you a while? Eiffel screaming at a Pryce-piloted Minkowski through the airlock/ the two of them escaping into the vents (I'm not sick of you yet, is that as good as it gets?) Lovelace and Jacobi firing on the Sol capsule with the launcher I never took you for a trick but Lovelace and Kepler staring each other down over the negotiations table sometimes I don't know what you want Cutter and Minkowski superimposed over them I could take it if you need to take this out on someone Rapidfire: Minkowski sending Eiffel home, Jacobi’s fight with Reimann, Lovelace shooting Minkowski, Kepler in the airlock (And this is just the part I portray) Hera in the mindscape facing off against Pryce with Eiffel behind her (And this is just the part I portray) The picture dissolving into shards strobed with jagged electricity I don't know how it got this way Picture resolving into Doug holding a recorder in his hand

[sluckythewizard]

[PUT INTO PLACE, TIED DOWN AND ARRANGED, AND IS NEVER THE SAME, AGAIN.]<-listen to my favorite songs. VAMPIRES ARE WONDERFUL ARENT THEY. THE FLESH IS SO MUCH MORE DURABLE. SO MUCH STRETCHIER THAN HUMANS. THE STRESS DOESNT KILL A VAMPIRE THE SAME WAY IT DOES A HUMAN. YOU CAN TAKE THEM APART THREAD BY THREAD AND LEAVE THEM WIDE AWAKE WITHOUT WORRY OF THE BRAINMATTER SPOILING UNDER VINEGARY AGONY.

[spontaneousglitterbees]

[sweetlullabyebye]

Just realized that there are not one, there are not two, there are THREE scenes of Moonjo peeking at Jongwoo

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

something about that whole incident must have changed something in my brain chemistry cause my insomnia’s gotten bad again

the past few days i’ve getting to sleep at two or three. kinda sucks i guess, but i don’t really want to resort to taking melatonin again

[ontargetmadders]

God writing a wedding is actually harder than it seems! Especially if you're trying to make it relaistic and use the proper phrases and processes and everything

[pikachu-deluxe]

literally no idea how i am even supposed to know where i land on the neurodivergent or neurotypical thing when i don't even know myself all that well. like, how am i supposed to answer when people ask me things about how i think. idk it just happens lol is probably not the response people are looking for

[actually-the-antichrist]

wow this world really does not have a baseline for how bad people can let things be

[theinfinitedivides]

i'm sorry but. ykw the next time i hear someone tell me that i have ADHD and (suspected) autism bc i have low emotional intelligence + all i need to do to get rid of my additional (possibly) EDS-induced joint pain is to think happy thoughts and take zinc supplements. istfg i will smash their kneecaps with a spike-ended baseball bat and put them outside in the rain. naked, and without painkillers. how's that for happy thoughts

[solsticethebatearedfox]

damn, cats really are Creatures, aren't they? Couldn't find my sweet boy anywhere in the house, swore he was inside for the night, but he wasn't in any of his usual spots. And I couldn't see him anywhere else either - I even checked in the kitchen cupboard. So, I instead loudly opened his food drawer, and made tin cluttering noises. He instantly teleported in front of me from who knows where. Typical 🙄

[snekdood]

Damn well. One of the clear ways you can tell my ex is bullshitting about me being anywhere near conservative is the fact that i get along well w the left leaning portion of my family vs the right leaning portion whomst i Do Not get along with or interact with

[picusviridis]

☄️ for cassius (i just like this prompt so much HAHA)

this ones sort of scary (never really thought about it)

☄️ - From your OC’s perspective, write a short paragraph about their average day. 

(from the perspective of somebody, likely Edgar, asking about his day. or something like that. point is it's a response...)

"I don't know. I mean, I do know, I suppose? I was there. For my day, I mean, well I were... Objectively... Err, anyway. I remember I bought mince or maybe suet for the bird-table... By the lighthouse. There were some great spots and that made me happy, I think - I remember this. Or, maybe that was yesterday? Err, oh well. I think that was the morning. I went to see Wheeler but I don't think I stuck about long. I find him to be rather bothersome as of late... That is cruel to say, though. He is not bothersome. He isn't! He is simply... Energetic. Where was I? Oh, well I remember - maybe this was yesterday or something of that sort - brilliant street musicians, which I also recall chatting with... About what, I don't know. But I do remember that! They got chased away eventually but they were nice to speak with. I only wish I had caught their names... Mm-hmm. I suppose I don't remember anything else?" (bonus ending: "Stop looking at me like that!" (<--isn't being looked at funny) (he would just say that))

(now = about 5 pm...likely maybe 5:30 or so) (note: the nebulous musicians are NOT vikingman and cuno I just imagine there's at least a decent like... music scene... in my heart of hearts i know it to be true... and its not because i am BIASED!!! anyway theyre just like nebulous. whatever)

[acepalindrome]

Alternatives to Squishmallow

So as many of you have probably already heard, Jazwares, the company that produces Squishmallows, is donating to charities that support Israeli soldiers and the IDF. They’re also supporting Canary Mission, which has been doxxing people who speak out against Israel. BDS hasn’t called for a boycott against them, but I can’t in good faith spend my money on their products, and I would strongly encourage everyone who enjoys plushies to really think long and hard about if you want to give your money to a company that’s helping support genocide!

But the holidays are coming up, and lots of us enjoy plushies and were fans of Squishmallow, and were planning to give Squishmallows to friends and family this year.

Fortunately, there are a number of great plushie companies out there, and I want to promote some of my favorites in the hopes that folks will get their plushie fix from a source that doesn’t side with Israel. So without further ado:

Fluffnest

Fluffnest got their start on Kickstarter a few years ago, and I adore the round shapes of their PuffPal plushies! My favorite is Pete the Possum, which is probably the best possum plush I’ve ever seen. I’ve also got a beautiful moth from their Kickstarter and I’ve been wanting their bats for ages. They also recently had a Kickstarter for an Animal Crossing-esque video game featuring their plushie characters and it looks fantastic.

Squishables

I can’t get over the plague doctor plushies. They’re so perfect and cute, and they’ve released other variations of them called Alter Egos, like a ghostly version, an alien, or a really sweet cottagecore one! They’ve got a ton of variety, but what I like the most are the fantasy plushies. There’s a lich! There are dragons and demons! Cryptids! Biblically accurate angels! A lot of really fun stuff!

Also they do a lot of great charity work! Right now they’re doing an auction for the Food Bank of New York City.

AfternoonFika

AfternoonFika is a very small business of only three people, but their plushies are extremely cute. They tend to sell out fast, so I recommend following them on social media to stay on top of any restocks! They recently released a line of dinosaurs that are precious, and of course I love their iconic cactus cat and cinnamon bun bunny.

Jellycat

Jellycat has been around since 1999, so they’re the oldest of these companies. They’ve got great designs, a ton of variety, and a lot of their plushies are made to be cuddled on and not just displayed. All three of my tiny nephews sleep with a different stuffed dog from Jellycat. My mom has a sun and several succulents that she uses as decorations. There’s a little something for everyone who enjoys plushies!

If you have any other favorite companies I haven’t mentioned, feel free to add on! I’ve enjoyed Squishmallows for a while now and I’m sad to see their leadership coming out on the side that’s committing war crimes on a daily basis, but this is a good time to discover new favorite plushie companies! And remember, money speaks loudly. Even if BDS hasn’t called for a boycott of Jazwares, it sends a message when sales start dropping for companies that support genocide. It’s a small thing, but the little things we do can add up!

[tonycries]

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing. 

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h. 

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly. 

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air. 

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome. 

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real? 

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique. 

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable. 

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot. 

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks. 

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven��t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo? 

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol. 

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-” 

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine. 

And then it’s all black. 

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact. 

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into? 

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment. 

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that. 

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.” 

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-” 

“It’s al-”

 “I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.” 

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about. 

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling. 

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso. 

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye. 

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve. 

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh. 

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again. 

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,” 

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him. 

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that- 

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory. 

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit. 

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you. 

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock. 

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.” 

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock? 

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well. 

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins. 

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him. 

All for him. 

It’s too much. 

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.” 

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon. 

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind. 

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand. 

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could. 

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him. 

You. 

And then he’s cumming. 

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him. 

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow. 

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course. 

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved. 

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt. 

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time. 

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R. 

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right? 

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture. 

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him. 

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. 

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing. 

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting. 

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue. 

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that. 

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. 

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously. 

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?” 

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions. 

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples. 

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping. 

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing. 

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips. 

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face. 

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue. 

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water. 

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do. 

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide. 

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need. 

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you. 

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue. 

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. 

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could. 

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life. 

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl. 

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips. 

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same. 

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat. 

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later. 

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face. 

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt. 

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well. 

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him. 

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more. 

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty. 

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock. 

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass. 

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them. 

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him. 

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason. 

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. 

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more. 

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him,  “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get. 

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, ��Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you. 

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut. 

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want. 

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully. 

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually. 

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves. 

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed. 

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.” 

Except maybe those. 

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.