#but it was really hard to write and something that matters a lot to me

[bitchfitch]

My mother's bf had a fairly major surgery (he's fine and recovering well DW) and he's going to be housebound for his birthday this year, so I've been enlisted to come up with a fancy birthday meal for the special birthday boy that's primarily fruit and veg, sweeter than savory, and is something he's never had before.

Bc I'm making watermelington. It's beef Wellington, but watermelon. bc my mom only found out recently you can use watermelon as a tuna substitute. And I know that you can substitute most higher quality beef cuts with tuna or salmon.... usually. Anyways the idea fascinates her so I'm hoping to use that for bonus points.

Now he's off his ass on pain killers so I can't like. Ask him if he's ever had something before. so to meet my brief I've decided to just. commit a novel hate crime against the British I guess.

Anyways. I'm writing this because I need to walk myself through this process and think it'll be surreal enough to be worth taking y'all along for.

So, Beef Wellington. In its most basic bitch arrangement is a beef tenderloin wrapped in prosciutto/really thin bacon, with a layer of mushroom and onion mush, that has been further wrapped in mustard slathered puff pastry.

We will be ship of Theseusing this. bc beef Wellington is like. the opposite of what he wants. Which is why it's funny.

Puff pastry-> it's still just puff pastry

this one doesn't have to change (aka I can't be fucked to do pastry prep and I'm just gonna use store bought it's Fine.)

the prosciutto is also just going to be prosciutto.

Thin meat

Beef tenderloin-> watermelon,

Tbh this is a pretty 1 to 1 substitution. I'll bake the slices at like. 250-300 for an hour or so ahead of the rest of prep to dry it out a bit. bc you can't like. Sear watermelon to seal in the water like you can beef. By definition it's a very wet fruit (like me when I fall into the lake). Ill Add salt and chili and lime juice while baking maybe. this is the easy part

The mushroom mush-> salsa done bad style

As the word mush implies, this is meant to be a very soft mix. It adds a lot of nuttiness to the wellington that rounds out all of the salt from the meats. I'm replacing it with white person salsa(the birthday boy can't handle spice). Tomato, lime juice, parsley, avocado, cucumber, feta, and maybe mango so I can have an excuse to have a lil mango treat. I said I wasn't making it spicy. I'm still putting a bit of chili in it. bc it'll be better like that. This is also a ridiculously wet bit of mush, Even the original mushrooms have too much water. I'll figure something out.

Mustard -> jelly

He lives in a big city. those preserve sections are massive. I'll find a weird one. maybe apricot.

Prep:

We're in the mind palace kitchen, I have not attempted any of this. We're just thinking real hard about it and I'll edit as needed on the day and post results.

The watermelon

Preheat oven to eh. 300f? We want low and slow to dry things out without it taking a year. but idk what his oven is like. If it's gentle I'll bump it up another ten-twenty.

Slather some watermelon slices in salt chili powder and lime juice mixture.

bake for 30 min on a wire rack or directly on the oven racks (after cleaning thoroughly) if he doesn't have a wire rack. with a drip try underneath to catch the drippage. check frequently. Have one slice that's for being poked to see if it's approaching being meat. Bake longer if needed.

Salsa bad style

chop everything up and add it to a pan with some oil in it. Tbh I don't think the type of oil you use for cooking matters if you're not like, getting near any smoke points. Most people can't tell the difference unless you made your food bland as hell.

Anyways there's some wildly different moisture contents on the list so there has to be an Order to cook off as much water as possible without getting yucky.

Tomatoes and cucumbers go in together with some salt to get the cucs softening, then the mango chunks and lime juice. Once most of the water is gone the avocado feta and parsley can go in. There is a good amount of water in avocados but they're delicate and don't pan fry well, so we're just going to ignore their water crimes and hope for the best. They just need to be evenly mixed through the rest of the mush.

Putting it together

lay out the puff pastry, cut into sections to wrap each watermelon slice individually with.

Slather in jam

Take the prosciutto and lay it out on half of each section of the pastry,

spoon the salsa onto that

Melon

Another layer of salsa

another layer of thin meat

Fold the pastry over the top and pinch the edges bc watermelon slices are not a rollable shape and I don't want to carve a watermelon into a tube for this because that sounds irritating.

Brush with egg wash and more parsley

Cook in oven following the pastry's preferred temp and time. it's fucking watermelon, you're not getting ecoli from it.

watermelington :)

I'm serving it with baked sweet potatoes and spinach based salad with whatever toppings are left over from making the salsa.

anyways thank you for joing me on this thought experiment. I will post updates once the deed is done. I'm sorry to every British person ever.

[ninyard]

Okay I NEED some Allison headcannons

Here’s some ideas if you need any lol:

Like how does she help Neil feel more “normal” after everything that happened? I feel like Matt, Dan, and Renee would probably walk on eggshells around him for a while, even after Nathan dies and the championship game and everything, cause now the adrenalines over and now they have to deal with the aftermath. I feel like Allison would just treat him normally. Not unkindly, but give him a sense of normalcy, yk?

favorite ice cream flavor

How does she react to Seth’s death post-aftg? How do the rest of the Foxes help her process her grief about Seth? Cause from Seth’s death to the last championship game is about 8 months, and death (especially of someone you love) doesn’t just go away like that fast ofc

Favorite brands? (She definitely owns AT LEAST once juicy couture set)

Music taste?

How do you think her relationship is with the other foxes? What are some things that she talks about and does with one person, but might not do with another?

How motherly she is with Neil. Seriously we all know she dragged this boy by the ear to the mall so she can buy him some real clothes.

Some chaotic Allison cause this bitch (affectionate) definitely has done some crazy, weird shit

Girls night with The Girls!! (And Neil, he’s an honorary member)

her friendship with Andrew (srsly i so hc them being friends..they’re both judgy rude bitches (in a good way) so there’s no way they’re not like..secretly watching shitty reality tv together)

Sorry about how long this is! Make sure to go eat and drink some water Nin :)

-💜💜✨

YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME bc now i just. want to write about them all so

I feel like Allison wouldn't tiptoe around the things Neil's been through or done. She's been straight up with him before about all of his lies and how she doesn't/didn't trust him, so I think if there's something on people's minds, she's not going to step around it or avoid the elephant in the room. If she's pissed, she'll tell him. If she doesn't understand something, she'll say it. But I think Neil would appreciate that more than knowing people are talking about him but won't just come up and ask him something themselves. It'd feel more normal if she addressed it, rather than just leaving a tension in the air/nobody feeling like they can joke about it or anything with him.

Some sort of sorbet. She used to say something like lemon, but truth be told her favourite is raspberry.

God, grief works weird. I think she cried. A lot. I think she spoke to Bee about him a lot, and I think every time she heard his name or saw his picture it was like she was finding out he was dead all over again. I think it was really, really hard for her. As much as they fought, as much as they broke up and got back together again, he was her rock. He was all she had, he knew her. She doesn't really have family to rely on, she can't call her mom or dad up to be like "My boyfriend died and it's destroying me". I think it was a very lonely time for her no matter how much the team insisted they were there for her. (I would worry about her recovery in the immediate aftermath of his death - I like to think that Abby was really looking after her for those first few weeks to keep her on track and make sure she was being safe and kind to herself)

Youre SO right with the juicy couture. That's just such a given when it comes to this series. Maybe she wore Abercrombie and Fitch too but i don't really know any other brands from 2006 oops

She's a bubblegum pop girly i think. Probably fucked with Avril Lavigne and Rihanna at the time. In my head she's a girls girl so Kylie, Britney, Fergie, P!nk and Beyonce. All the ladies like that.

I've mentioned my thoughts on her and Kevin before and how their relationship as friends develops post-TKM but as for the others. I think Dan, Matt and Nicky are the ones she's closest with, but the first one she'll call for advice is Renee. I feel like Nicky is literally like her gay best friend and they're ALWAYS arm-in-arm. If she needs someone to go shopping with it's always him. They're always bitching and gossiping. Her and Aaron aren't very close, especially considering the choking incident, but I feel like they still appreciate each other on the court and still with hug and congratulate each other when they do well. I don't know about her and Andrew either. That's a tricky one, also considering the choking thing, but I know she's also not afraid of him, either. She sees what he did for her after Seth's death, and so that have a sort of mutual respect, but I don't think they're exactly friends. I feel like her and Neil would be pretty good friends, but aren't exactly going out of their way to hang out with each other.

I LOVE how much she cares about Neil. I think he's cute to her. I think she literally wants to pinch his cheeks and cuddle him even though she knows everything about his past and what he is capable of. He has that Wesninski smile and she's like AWWWW

Like. Listen. I do feel like Allison can be NUTS. I feel like if she didn't restrain herself she's the kind of girl to key someones car for cheating on her or pop someones tyres because they catcalled her. She'd fight anyone on a night out to stick up for her friends, even if she's just about blackout drunk, she's ready to fight. I feel like she's had one of those movie moments on the court where she screams. Like you know what kind of scream I'm talking about. One of those movie girl screams. She can be a total cunt if she wants to be. But most of the time she doesn't

okay i want to write more about the last two but im trying so hard rn to clear my inbox and drafts because i feel like so many ppl think i'm ignoring them so i will leave you with these few thoughts on Allison <3

[amostimprobabledream]

Falling in Reverse (Dazai Osamu x Reader) Part Two

I meant to write more of this like...two years ago? My bad. I hope you enjoy despite that! <3 -

This is fine.

You kept on thinking it as you sat there, trying to pay attention.

You told yourself to stop it. Stop nitpicking, finding fault with every little thing and refusing to live in the moment for a solitary fucking second. You could feel your fingers twitching with desperation to check your messages, and nearly sit on your hands in an effort to stop yourself. You poured your focus into acting normal instead, nodding in the right places, making encouraging noises, keeping your facial expression open and inviting instead of sliding into boredom or irritation…

It's a fucking lot of work.

The guy – his name was Ken-something, he said what it was when you sat down but the bar was kind of loud and the chance to get him to repeat it somehow slipped past you – was good-looking enough but he wasn’t especially interesting to talk to, and he kept looking around the bar like he was expecting something. He asked the basic questions, but you got the feeling he wasn’t really listening when you answered. The only time he did seem intrigued was when you mentioned your job. You kept it vague, since the Armed Detective Agency wasn’t popular with some people, and he’d lost interest when you clarified it was just a desk job.

“So you don’t get to get out much?” he asked, with a lopsided smirk like he’d made some hilarious sexual innuendo you hadn’t got yet.

“Oh, you know, I run errands sometimes.” You replied, pretending to think hard about the response. It's actually true – Ranpo had you bringing him so many snacks it’s like he thought you were the goddamn Easter Bunny, yet you could never quite bring yourself to say ‘no’ to him. “Thrilling stuff, I know.”

 “That’s too bad. Maybe you need someone to show you some thrills, you know?”

A smirk accompanied that, and you dutifully waited for the butterflies in your stomach, or a flicker of intrigue, or something, but your ardour remained stubbornly cool. Frustration bubbled inside you, and you took a big gulp of your drink. It was like you were jamming keys you knew fit into the ignition of a car, but every time you turned it, the engine would not turn on, no matter how much you tried to will it to life.

But going home would feel like quitting. Like admitting defeat. Like you're really saying: I'm so obsessed with my co-worker who is both terrible and far too good for me that I can't give anyone else a chance. Sad, huh?

“Excuse me for a sec,” you said instead, flashing a smile you didn’t feel, rising to your feet. “I’ll be right back.”

He waved a hand in acknowledgement, and you could tell he was watching you as you headed for the ladies’ room, the heat of it making you strangely uneasy, knowing his eyes were going down your body, cataloguing. For sure he was looking at your ass in the dress.

The ladies’ room was blessedly quiet, and you splashed some water on your face, staring down your reflection, hands braced either side of the sink.

What am I doing here? You thought, and sighed.

It’s just a lacklustre date. You’ve gone on them before and usually put no further thought into them once you took off your makeup and outfit and slipped into bed. There are millions of people in the world, the odds of being instantly compatible with someone seemed like a rare enough thing not to take too personally.

But looking at yourself in your red dress, your hair washed and makeup still nice (if getting slightly smudgy – most of your lipgloss had already transferred to the rim of your glass), you didn’t feel like some kind of sexy badass like you’d been going for.

You just felt kind of stupid, to be honest.

You really thought you did something, didn’t you? A nasty inner voice sneered at you. You thought this was like a movie where you could put on a slutty dress, have an amazing date with a cute guy and magically cure your shitty life? You thought this would fix anything?

You hated that the bitchy voice was right.

“You stupid bitch.” You muttered out loud, your reflection mouthing the words back at you, and you shook your head and exited the toilets before somebody walked in on the stranger talking to herself.

Perhaps the drinks are hitting you a little harder than you thought, because a vague fuzz of light-headedness descended on you as you walked towards your booth, and you decided that you liked it. It took the edge of your self-consciousness and made you forget how this wasn’t the kind of dress you usually wore, or that you were going on a stupid date to get over your feelings for a co-worker who was literally a hazard to one’s health.

But then, just as you got back to your seat, younearly tripped over yourself in shock when you got to the booth and the back of the seated man’s head was definitely not the man you’d come into the bar with.

You’d know those fluffy brown locks anywhere.

“Dazai, what the fuck?!“ you said, then remembered to lower your voice into a hiss, anger coming to you in a sharp burst, like opening a bottle that’s been shaken up first. “You can’t just come in here and- “

Dazai turned his head and your ranting abruptly halted. His face was devoid of its usual playful smirk and the sparkle of mischief in his eyes, eyes that looked brown but when the light hit them just right, they got this golden sheen that looked just like honey…

You were distracted for a second, and Dazai’s voice cut through the fog.

“I don’t have time to explain, we have to move now.”

Something in his voice froze your anger – it had dropped an octave from his usual light-hearted, teasing tone he often adopted to annoy Kunikida or trick Atsushi into doing something for him. No, Dazai wasn’t playing around, and your stomach dropped when you caught the look on his face.

More questions teemed on your tongue, but he was standing up, up, out of the seat and away from the little booth, grabbing your arm as he rushed by. Your half-finished drink lay abandoned and unpaid for – you knew Dazai had a habit of dine and dashing and apparently he was putting it to good use now.

He dragged you through the kitchen, so quickly that the yells of surprise from the cooks were already far behind you as he opened the door to the back of the bar and you’d stepped into the cool outside air. Dazai didn’t pause in his stride or let go of your arm and you realised to your chagrin that you’d left your jacket behind in the booth. You could only hope some kind soul would hand it in to the place to hold onto, though they might not feel like returning it since you’d just disappeared without paying for your drink.

“Dazai, slow down-" you said, doing your damndest to keep up with him – you’re not exactly dressed for running. “What’s going on?”

“Your date isn’t just your average Joe, I’m afraid.” Dazai replied, grimly, apparently deciding that telling you something was more practical than refusing to go into detail and risking a mutiny. “I’m not sure where you found this guy, but he’s there to try and pump information about the Armed Detective Agency from you.”

Your stomach twisted unpleasantly – you barely had time to register the chilly sting of disappointment, like cool air from a fast moving vehicle whipping by you.

“What the fuck – how could you possibly know that?” you spluttered, before another, unwelcome possibility struck you. “Were you… following me?!”

“Of course I was.” He said, in a voice that sounded a bit more like his usual one – that annoying, teasy, I-know-something-you-don’t-know tone that usually got him slapped upside the head by Kunikida.

Your indignant squawk was cut off when he wrenched at your arm and suddenly, you’d stopped running and were enveloped in cool darkness. He’d found some kind of little snicket that somebody passing at a reasonable pace would probably have missed. You’re not surprised that Dazai was well-acquainted with hidden away little spots like that.

“Dazai-" you said again, frustrated and slightly out of breath – why was he stopping?

“Ssh.” He said.

In the distance you could hear the screeching of a car – no, more than one car – and an even more distant wailing of sirens. His arms caged you in and he was staring over his shoulder intently, like a fox that has heard the baying of the hounds.

“No doubt the Port Mafia’s goons are out looking for their little friend now.” He muttered, more to himself than you. It was like he’d forgotten you were there. “It’s for the best if this doesn’t get traced back to the Armed Detective Agency.”

Your mouth felt dry suddenly, noting the calculating look in Dazai’s eyes and unease crawled up your back. It’s so easy to forget that Dazai used to be one of them, that he knew the way they think and that he’s capable of switching back into that mode with frightening ease. Just because you’re co-workers didn’t mean you knew much about him, and you’re being made painfully aware of that fact right now.

“Dazai…just what did you do?” you asked, and you couldn’t hide the faint hitch in your voice.

Did he drag the guy outside and kill him? Was that why the police sirens were coming closer? If you pulled back the front of his coat right now, would his immaculate white shirt be splattered with still-wet blood? Does he think you told the guy something valuable? You didn’t think Dazai would hurt you – but you couldn’t be completely, one-hundred percent sure.

What did you really know about Osamu Dazai?

“Don’t worry. The Port Mafia don’t take kindly when you mess with one of their own,” Dazai said, seemingly able to discern your mounting fears with a glance, perhaps the look in your eyes or the tremor when you spoke gave you away. “He’ll live, but he’ll think twice before he tries using someone from the Agency like that.”

Thank god for that. You think – not that you would have lost too much sleep over one ex-Port Mafia member, but the thought of being stuck in a tiny space with a man who had just recently murdered someone wasn’t exactly the kind of exciting activity you’d hoped for tonight.

“So, we should get out of here,” you said, swallowing. “While they’re still swarming the bar.”

“Not yet. They’ll be looking for people running for public transport.” Dazai replied, his voice so certain that you didn’t question him further – why would you? This was all new territory for you, whereas Dazai had been doing this kind of thing since he was fifteen.

“So then what-?”

But you both fell silent as you heard something else – voices, drawing closer. Dazai swore softly under his breath, and he leaned in a little closer to you like he was trying to shield you from view with his body. You could feel yourself starting to sweat from the intensity of it, fighting back a grimace as you felt a trickle of it sliding down the length of your upper arm. Fuck.

"I'm sorry," Dazai said, after a beat, when the voices had drawn so close that you swore any second - any second! – they were going to find you and maybe kill you, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears.

 And Dazai truly sounded regretful - he really was a good actor.

 “I'm going to have to kiss you."

He didn't give you pause to process his words, which came to you as if from far away, floating to your ears, because the next thing you knew, long slender fingers were cupping your jaw, turning your face and his mouth was sliding over yours.

Most first kisses are awkward, fumbling affairs. Getting used to someone else's rhythm, trying not to do something awkward and mood-killing like clash teeth or bite the other person's tongue can slow things down, cause a few seconds where the spell is broken.

Kissing Dazai - or rather, being kissed by him, was nothing like that.

He kissed you like he'd been given a guide. Like he knew you, intrinsically and deeply, and knew the inner workings of your mind and mouth better than you did. One hand stayed cradling your jaw, the other one slid down, and his long, elegant fingers wrapped around your waist, pulling you in until you were pressed flush against him. It didn’t escape your notice that his crotch was also touching you and you were decidedly grateful his mouth was firmly joined with yours, or you might have actually whimpered out loud.

How often had you dreamed of this? Your nights had been full of sordid little fantasies of Dazai, of dropping your guard and confessing to him, and then, in your mind, he’d smile and tell you he’d always known, before he kissed you. Or depending on how raunchy you were feeling, other times you’d picture him just sweeping everything off your desk in a dramatic gesture and fucking you right then and there on the desk?

And all of it had seemed so stupid and pathetic than you’d be stinging with shame after your late-night fantasies reached their climax, lusting so hard over someone who probably barely noticed you were present in the room. Falling for Dazai’s looks was one thing, but you saw what he was like on a day-to-day basis, how he was lazy and unprofessional and sometimes kind of an asshole. But cold logic would not touch your yearning.

And now, in this cold, cramped little forgotten pocket of Yokohama, Dazai was putting your daydreams to shame. Your lips tingled as if you’d kissed something with a high voltage, heat surging along your bloodstream. Dazai’s touch was gentle but firm and the way he tilted his head, angling yours at his preference, sent a thrill chasing down your spine.

The voices were now right across from you, within arm’s reach, but Dazai felt you stiffen in fear and simply deepened the kiss, holding you tightly to him.

“Nevermind. Nobody’s here ‘cept some lovebirds.” A man’s rough voice said and it sounded so close, you could practically smell him, but you forced yourself to tune him out like someone deep in the throes of passion would, to sink into the sensation of Dazai’s hands on you, his tongue slipping into your mouth, the pleasant scent of him, sort of like freshly-cut wood and whisky.

“Come on, let’s go this way, they probably took the subway.”

The footsteps go the opposite direction, you hear one of the Port Mafia grunts swearing as he walks through a puddle, and the fear pricking you recedes. Dazai had one eye open, scanning behind you, before he finally breaks the kiss and pulled back. You felt bereft, but you were also seized by the abrupt urge to laugh at the sparkly smudge of gloss on the corner of his mouth.

“Nicely done,” Dazai remarked, his eyes cutting down at you, and his lips curved in a smirk. “Almost like it was real.”

“Yeah,” you replied, trying to sound ironic, but you sounded far too breathy to be sufficiently aloof. “Almost.”

Dazai’s hand had not left your waist yet and he stepped out of the hiding place, pulling you after him.

“Stay close to me,” he instructed, his voice husky. “We’re not out of danger yet.”

You nodded and wiped your mouth on the back of the wrist.

With Dazai, danger was a given. You just hoped you’d come out of it in one piece – in more ways than one. But your voice was steady as you answered;

“Then let’s go.”

[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

[slasherscream]

really wish people would read blog rules more, it makes running blogs like this very low reward and you feel like a machine if people aren't commenting and aren't even abiding by one of the, honestly, very few and politely phrased rules i even have

[daydadahlias]

WAIT WHERES MIM?!?! PLEASE TELL ME YOU’LL RELEASE THAT ONE AGAIN PLEASE

I need you guys to understand that the reason I took down my stuff was for my own peace of mind because they're my stories and i started feeling unsafe having them out because of how they - and I - were being treated.

absolutely nothing is wrong with mim and I love that fic and I care so much about it which is why - for my peace of mind - i want it to belong to only me rn. I know the fic was only out a month after i finished it and that really upsets me about taking it down. i want to reupload it because i know people like the fic and i love sharing my stuff but also there's that level of how much the fic matters to me and how much more devastating it makes it when people are cruel. and how much it hurts when I, as the creator of something, am treated like I don't matter at all and that my stuff can so easily be stolen or copied. like, it's an extension of me, yknow? You can't separate content and creator in such a small and intimate sphere as fandom. like, you guys all use my first name when referring to me, yknow?? there's that sense of connection. and since it's such an intimate space, having that trust be betrayed or disrespected is so much more potent than if we were in a large fandom with a lot of creators.

the fear of having MiM copied is really immense and real for me rn and i know that's potentially me being overly paranoid but considering the Amount of times this has started to happen - and how blatantly rude and nasty and entitled readers have been getting with me and other creators over the last year - it's definitely not out of the realm of possibility.

MiM wasn't written for readers, it was written for me. and i shared it because i wanted to and that was wonderful. but to have any of my stuff stepped on so much just doesn't make me feel very safe in this fandom space rn and makes it hard to let people have access to something that matters so much to me.

I'm not saying MiM has been deleted forever, I'm just saying i want some more time for it to be mine.

[heartbeatbookclub]

It's 2 am as I start this, and I feel the need to put pen to paper on this thought, so to speak, because it's something I think about with relative frequency.

This is going to be more of a personal musing on my experience with Doki Doki Literature Club, and why it had such an impact on me when I first played it, as opposed to any more concrete analysis, so I guess you can keep reading if you want to know more about me as a person and my overall personal relationship to it.

Something I think about often in reference to DDLC is its status simultaneously as a satire on visual novels and all of the tropes therein, as well as a love letter to that genre, explicitly. It's very readily apparent if you've played a good few "weeb" visual novels that it very much fits that bill. I think my first experience with it makes it especially funny in that respect.

To give context, I first experienced Doki Doki Literature Club like a month or two after it came out, in a Skype call (shows how old I am) with 2 or 3 of my friends. During this period of my life, me and this small group of friends spent lots and lots of time just hanging out in Skype calls like this, doing whatever we pleased, spending time well into the next morning just enjoying each other's presence and seeing what fun shenanigans we could get into on the internet.

One frequent passtime of ours was playing visual novels. Not just any visual novels, no; we went looking for the most low effort, mediocre, low hanging fruit of visual novels we could download for free. The goal wasn't to enjoy a good story, the goal was to find something amusingly bad, whether in cliched, awkward, lazy writing, or in sheer absurdity. I still do this sometimes, though it's admittedly with a different thought in mind now.

I don't think this perception we had of visual novels, being that they're typically sloppy, cringe-inducing messes is necessarily uncommon even now, but it was especially common back then. It was "weeb shit", simple as, but even deeper than your typical weeb shit. The perception was something like watching High School DxD unironically; it's just weird.

And I don't really think the perception of visual novels being that way is necessarily inaccurate; there is a very low bar to entry to actually creating a visual novel just by the nature of the medium, so really, anyone with enough passion for a project and time on their hands can make one. As a consequence, there are a few egregiously bad visual novels, there are a few really excellent visual novels, but there are a great many just sort of okay, somewhat mediocre visual novels, and lots of visual novels created with not so honorable goals in mind.

And one thing we really enjoyed was just exploring what existed in the depths of unpopular visual novels slipping through the cracks of what people saw. For most of it, we were making fun of it, but there were a lot of points where we found stories which were mediocre, but ended up really enjoying our experience with it. I think an important thing to understand with that lower barrier to entry is that it enables people who really are passionate about telling a story to tell a story that has a lot of heart, and you can see all of that heart as a diamond within the rough of the actual construction. Even in VNs with more polish, typically there are still cracks right around the edges, where you can see just a little bit of the humanity that goes into it. It's sort of magical.

And Doki Doki Literature Club was an odd edge case, which successfully played with all of my perceptions of it. DDLC is probably the only game whose story is reliant on a plot twist where I actually went in completely blind. By all appearances, it was a silly little visual novel made with no sense of irony, and I spent a great deal of time laughing at its contents, completely unaware that they were in on the joke.

And my perception of it being this way I feel like colored a lot of what happened next when I looked into it. I forget exactly when our playthrough ended--we didn't make it to any of the deeper stuff, I watched a Let's Play for that--and I forget how the whole series of events following that went, but somehow or another, I learned of some of the true nature. Namely I saw what happened to Sayori.

It reminded me of Corpse Party, when I actually thought about it.

I'm not going to go deep in depth on all of my thoughts about Corpse Party nor any of its history, but to be frank, Corpse Party reeeally sits in that realm of "mediocre, but lots of heart" to me. I don't really think Corpse Party is very good, particularly elaborating on a lot of the lore, but I really enjoyed it when I first experienced it, and it's still something I occasionally like looking back over. It's deliciously dark, and is extremely effective at creating an oppressive atmosphere out of what's ostensibly a collection of happy warm anime character tropes with little serious personality outside them.

So when I say that Sayori's death reminded me of Corpse Party, I mean that the way it paired playing the happy warm visual novel setting straight with extremely grim subject matter was done well.

Really, there were only a few other examples of this kind of media I could think of that really effectively utilized the exact kind of gut punch that DDLC did. Everything about the way the game framed itself around it, up until the final plot twist, really did feel like they were just elements of a visual novel playing themselves out. Sayo-nara really sets that tone for me--it still gives me chills sometimes when I hear it, because it sounds perfectly like what a "Bad Ending" theme for that kind of ending would likely sound like. It plays itself remarkably well into creating the setting, it really effectively feels like it is a normal visual novel falling apart at the seams.

I think that, more than anything, is why DDLC made such an impact on me when I first experienced it (which is remarkably different than the kind of mark it leaves on me now), it played so effectively with a genre I was so familiar with, and simultaneously played "mediocre visual novel with lots of heart" straight while also completely knocking "deep and terrifying existential horror" out of the park.

It's hard to truly describe, but there's just so much that feels so right about DDLC just being as it is. There's such a unique quality to the way it's written, to the way it's constructed, that goes down to its bones. It feels like that exact brand of junk food media you go to visual novels for. You don't necessarily want to think too deeply about the characters, or the setting of the story, or any of the deeper themes surrounding it; you just want to experience a nice story with some anime girls.

And then it yanks the rug out from under you, and makes you think it's junk food media with a side of deep and disturbing horror.

And then it yanks the second rug out from under that one, making you realize it's something much, much deeper.

I think something else it really appealed to, to me, was just that sense of being on the edge of the world which most indie games of that sort always give me. There are a shitload of examples I could give for this, but this sense I'm describing is the opposite of the sense which games like Undertale give me. Undertale's world feels lived in, it feels like it exists in a much, much wider concept of a great, sprawling world where billions of people live.

DDLC feels like you and the 4 girls in it are the only people in the universe. There are all of these environments you inhabit which ostensibly have other people who pass through them, live in them, there are implications of people, but inside this world, there's only you.

I think it just appeals to my desire to be transported to a complete other world for a little while. A limited space, where only things important to this experience exist, for this pure feeling of emotional catharsis. And that's something a lot of these sorts of simple visual novels appeal to; the goal isn't necessarily to tell some deeper story, it's just to present beats as they happen. DDLC takes that, and plays with it, both in a textual sense, as though these fictional characters exist and are somehow aware they're fictional, and in a meta sense, by directly playing around with your expectations and the way the entire thing is framed.

Or something like that.

Fun fact 1: Doki Doki Literature Club (specifically Sayo-Nara, still one of the few songs I can play entirely by memory) is what got me to start learning piano. I taught myself to play, and started mostly with the DDLC soundtrack (Which is very simple to play by ear, by the way, it's pretty much entirely C major.)

Fun fact 2: What initially inspired this thought was this video, which really reminded me of other visual novels we/I played that would utilize this particular style of music.

[kayforpay]

when I am in less troublesome times I plan on writing some fun weird monsterfucking stories and posting them online so I hope those of you into that stuff will enjoy them

[salsflore]

been almost 3 yrs and i am still struggling with the whole mikachi first meeting thing. bye

[elegyofthemoon]

In the cool, plush core of the moon sleeps a mouse as we speak, dreaming of a world lush and green, then golden and undulating, then chopping and churning, a world of many surfaces with skies of many moods.

When it awakes, it will poke its tiny head out of a crater and bask in your glow as it does every morning. Here, all is still and silent. On that sparkling planet in the deep black distance, the sun seems capricious. But the mouse lives in the abyss of the body and therefore with a unique perspective on its essence. The mouse sees what other life does not see.

One needn't worry about unbecoming for the sake of containing a sun. Clouds may blanket the atmosphere of a planet, but still there burns a sun. The spots on the sun's surface may grow and shrink and shift, but still there it burns. And if one decides to cool it down like a waning flame or expand it in a cataclysmic supernova, still there it burns, and one has the right to revoke the state of their existence and become new.

Because perhaps the truth is you are not the sun--not alone--but it is rather a part of you. Your body is the solar system, each planet a world within the body, and each knows this glow in different ways. Some are nurtured by its warmth, others by its distance. Regardless of the sun's changes, they stay the course encircling it.

The universe cannot be held back, harnessed, fully comprehended. It pulls at the seams of solar systems as it pulls on its own seams. In that unstoppable shifting, we stumble. Sometimes it feels like our love and light slips from our fingers, shattering irrevocably in our falls. But what makes us cannot be seperated from us, even in times where our essence is obscured.

There is always another life to appreciate your life, no matter what happens. And in the least, there is always a little mouse in you that understands you in telescopic clarity and offers forgiveness for every change--no matter what, right into the end of time.

❤

[hecksupremechips]

The way akishinji and ashbella both have dramatic coma scenes and dramatic shot through the heart scenes like we’ve gotta stop meeting like this 😩

[blkkizzat]

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

PART 3

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (IN STOCK!!!)

⋙ product description (summary): choso's finally had enough and if you won't listen to reason he will fuck it into you. but will you still choose him in the end or will he make that choice for you? ⋙ side effects (tw): THE LONG AWAITED BRAT TAMING! rough sex. throat goat!reader. more angst. spanking ass/puss. teasing. edging. lots of delayed pleasure. jealousy. cunnalingus. mirror sex. dom!choso. breeding kink. dirty talk. backshots. fingering. squirting. daddy kink. thigh riding. nuru/thigh fucking. intoxicated reader. drug use (weed). slight voyeurism. yandere choso. baby trapping. mentions of violence (not towards reader). mentions of somnophilia and a lil bit of fluff. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 9.6k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. the long awaited end! i hope you guys like it. i really worked hard on this to make it good <3 special shout outs to my betas @littlemochabunni for literally always talking me off the ledge when i want to ctrl + a+ del everything and @buttercupblu for all the grammar edits my adhd brain struggles with and inspiring me to write the last scene.

Plug!Choso who ultimately will forgive you but it will be on his terms. He just needed to show you first why the only person you should worry about pleasing was him.

Menacing chuckles rumble deep from Choso’s chest, bewildering you in your crossfaded state. Seizing you with a firm hold, he forces you to meet his gaze. Choso holds you so tightly against him that your feet barely touch the ground.

Any attempts of wriggling out of his hold are in vain.

“You’re such a fucking slut.”

His matter-of-fact statement makes you frown. You’re taken aback by the twisted amusement on his face.

“You don’t love me… You love my cock.”

“N-No I—”

Your already short skirt now bunches above your hips and Choso brings a heavy hand down onto your exposed bottom. The sting brings fresh tears to your eyes as the gems on your fishnets leave distinct impressions on your soft, malleable skin.

“You’ll have to learn to be quiet while daddy’s talking, princess.”

If you were going to act like a childish brat, Choso would treat you like one.

Another harsh spank startles you into hiccups as you sniff away fallen tears. 

You’d never been spanked before—not by previous lovers or boyfriends—hell not even your parents growing up. 

The last person you’d expect it from was Choso.

And yet each swift lick Choso deals you is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. 

Who knew you would be such a glutton for punishment? 

You fidget, biting your lip in anticipation of another. 

“Been thinkin’ princess—I’ve been too good to you. But you don’t want that, eh?”

A third smack has you whimpering. Your pelvic muscles clench hard, releasing more of the desperation that had already saturated your thighs.

“You want one of those assholes outside, is that right? They’re good enough for you, huh princess?”

You can only mewl in response from the delightful pain that pierces your senses as he delivers another and another.

“S’why every time I fuckin’ come round y’er being a lil’cocktease for some preppy ass frat fuck.”

Choso wasn’t wrong. 

You knew what those boys wanted from you.

Even though you had never really entertained any of them. That was the allure in itself—to be something unattainable. 

Yet more selfishly, you liked the attention. Not like you’d even got the same thrill from it anymore since you were with Choso—but old habits die hard.

Choso was making damn sure of that now.

“Tryna get one of them to fuck you tonight—”

Choso’s cock twitches in sync with your trembles from every spank.

“—or were you hoping I was finally gonna put that pretty princess pussy of yours in her place?” 

You’re smart enough to know Choso’s question is rhetorical and how could it not be given all your actions tonight? 

It was clear you wanted him and his deliciously fat cock back—badly. 

Your tongue cautiously peeks out as you try to quiet your shuddering breaths, afraid that any small movement might provoke his anger. At this point you know better than to beg too, almost certain that any attempts would only fuel the unexpected mean streak Choso had developed.

Yet despite any initial apprehension you were quickly becoming puddy in his hands.

“Poor baby, working so hard having to appease everyone—” 

SMACK!

“—well you ain’t gotta worry that bratty head of yours no more—seeing as you won’t be doing none of that shit from now on.” 

His threats which should have you cussing him out only make you wetter as your heart pounds in your ears from the thrill of being dominated. You’d do anything right now to get a little relief for your aching cunt that had gone a whole goddamn month without Choso’s thick cock plugging her up. 

Restless in arousal, your entire being just begs to be fucked. 

Releasing your hair Choso parts your legs with his knee and you collapse onto him, your plump pussy colliding with his thigh. You whimper, tightly gripping his broad shoulders for leverage to rock yourself against his thigh. 

Choso could feel the intensity of the moist heat radiating from your core dampening his jeans.

“Shit, I can feel you dripping… pussy drooling just from getting that ass spanked a lil’—are you a masochist, princess?”

Choso breathes the question into your ear, his words bringing a chill over your skin fanning goosebumps all the way down to the nape of your neck.

You’re losing yourself all the more in the hypnotic state of lust swirling from alcohol, weed, pain and arousal clashing within you. 

You nearly choke on the deep guttural moans that had been held in by his hand still around your throat when he grabs your hips forcibly rocking you harder against him. Your paper-thin thong does nothing to protect you  from the rough threadbare material of his jeans grinding against your sensitive lil nub. 

“Wearing these slutty tights with an ass like yours…” 

You almost forget to breathe, the sting this time accompanied by him sliding his fingers between the gaps in the material and grabbing the fat of your ass for emphasis.

“...coulda got me in so much shit tonight if I made ol’boy who was touchin’ up on you swallow teeth.”

The baritone in his voice lowers to a deadly note, tuning every nerve in your body to the exact pitch of his voice.

“P-Please C-Cho I—”

—in an instant the hand on your hip coils around your neck. 

Thumbing your collarbone, Choso slowly applies just enough pressure to activate the euphoric sensation of suffocation, sending tingles down your spine.

“Look at me princess, you better stay quiet—m’not gonna say it again.”

You choke back a cry as the elastic on your fishnets snaps against your tender skin when Choso removes his hand from them.

“But then your lil’card got pulled when you saw me with that whore, hmm?”

You wince preemptively expecting another hard spanking but Choso loosens his grip around your throat. He looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

A sniffly frown complements the pitifulness of your runny makeup as you cling to him possessively. 

“Y-Yeah… I-I hated seeing that d-dumb bitch all over you. Wanted to fuck her up.”

Choso is satisfied with your answer but the warmth behind his smile didn’t match the heated glint in his eyes.

“There it is. See? Bratty princesses who are honest get rewarded—”

Any relief you feel is short lived as your despair returns with the words that follow.

“—eventually.”

Plug!Choso who has you so close to release just from rutting against his brawny thigh. Yet just as you feel the hot coil about to snap in your stomach he pulls away from you. 

Wobbling for stability, your panic that he would leave again subsides when he returns to sit on your bed.

Choso leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees to pack another bowl. The process is second nature to him and his hands move with an instinctual precision, allowing his oppressively dark gaze to remain fixed to you.

“Strip.”

It’s a rather simple command but it causes a small malfunction in your brain nonetheless. 

Your intuition is simultaneously screaming at you to be a ‘good girl’ and listen to Choso so he’d finally fuck you—but also to get the hell away from the menacing man before you were actually fucked.

Choso’s shift in his nature was setting off every internal alarm—although at the same time, you couldn’t say this still didn’t feel like Choso.

Was it really new? 

Or was this side just new to you? 

You’d only ever really known the gentle boyish side of Choso. The side who would blush easily and that was so willing to do anything to please you—the side that was a dutiful and loving brother.

But this other side? 

Well, he was a dealer.

You’d never heard of Choso getting caught out or punked in the streets—not even once. 

You also never knew how he conducted his business, as he always stepped out of the car or left the room. When he took a call while you were with him, all you could hear were faint murmurs of conversation over the rumbling bass of music or through a well-insulated door.

You knew he did his best to keep that side away from you and Yuji, as it wasn’t always pretty. 

Instantly you recalled how once when you had slept over he reluctantly left in the middle of the night late saying he had ‘business’ to take care of. When he came home hours later he looked worn down and even more tired than usual. His knuckles were swollen and there was a rip with small dots of blood on his collar which you would have thought was his own if not for there not being a single scratch on him.

He didn’t speak of what happened and you couldn’t fuss over his appearance for too long—your mind being far from inquisitive while blubbering from his cock drilling your body deep into the mattress. You blissfully became a fleshlight of relief for all his frustrations that night until long after sunrise. 

In fact, Choso had dicked you down so thoroughly when you finally made it out of bed that day it was mid-afternoon. You didn’t even question him about the bruises lingering on his knuckles or whose blood he had on him—still in a daze off his cock.

So this must be how he is in the streets. 

“Go on now, princess.”

The deep silky dominance in his tone commanded your attention, jarring you from your thoughts. You’re pouting, but your body, in spite of your more rational mind, wins as it compels you to obey him, convincing you that anything he has planned for you would be well worth the pleasure that follows. 

Slowly, you begin to lift up your tiny pink top when Choso’s eyes narrow in disapproval, stopping you.

“Nuh-uh see—that shit right there won't cut it.”

You’re puzzled. You did exactly as he asked.

“You didn’t think I saw my lil’ slut playing beer pong and teasing those shitheads with my tiddies? Now do it for me—the same fuckin’ way.”

You’re nodding but your delicate hands are nevertheless shaking under his intense smolder.

Swallowing your anxiety and mimicking your earlier actions, you bent towards him. Your chest is lightly heaving by the time your nails begin to slowly drag the hem of the sparkly top down over your breasts. Choso is blatantly palming his cock when you give the final tug that has your tits bouncing forth from their confines, fully exposed to him.

Choso hums in approval, satisfied with your performance. He motions with a finger for you to come to him and you can’t close the distance fast enough to stand between his legs. 

Molding your hips in his large hands, Choso brings you even closer. Parting his lips the smoke tendrils fan over your stomach while his mouth hovers over your skin. 

Choso looks back up at you and your belly dips, quivering at his dangerously seductive eyes and mischievous grin. 

You were nervous—good.

“Knees.”

Plug!Choso who has you shamelessly panting on your knees before him. Not caring for any decorum at this point you’re openly salivating as hearts practically dance in your eyes over his engorged cock throbbing inside his jeans.

Choso releases a whiny hiss when the air hits his swollen glands. His length sways weighted down as an embarrassing amount of pre drips off his reddened shaft, his boxers already soiled. 

In your right state of mind you might have used this to shift back the power dynamics—yet alas, you are far too gone now. The need for him to give you his praise and approval winning out over any inklings of sass or disobedience. 

Your attention is all but zeroed in on how those milky pearls dribbled over his albert piercing and down the thick vein on the underside of his length.

Seeing how your mouth watered just from the sight of his cock, it’s Choso who proves to be the more impatient one as he grips the back of your head with one hand forcing you closer. In his haste, his dick misses your mouth and skids across your cheek, prompting a low growl of curses from Choso. 

Unconcerned with his impatience, you’re still in your own world—and that world in question was currently being filled with the carnal smell of Choso’s scent marking your skin. A long stain of pre smearing across your face mind shuts down now solely driven by your needy cunt.

“I’ll forgive you when you show me how sorry you are—”

“—anything!” 

Quickly snapping out of your dickmatized daze you look up at him with doe eyes, begging for the go-ahead.

“Yeah? Then do it nasty for me, princess.” 

The words have scarcely left Choso’s lips before you’re already parting your own, releasing a viscous well of drool to pour languidly on his dick.

Your saliva mixing with his spilled essence coats his cock and fills the room with vulgar squelches as you obediently pump his hot length. You rotate your grip with a sinful precision while your other hand thumbs his gooch as you’re cupping his balls, kneading them in a manner that had Choso’s toes curling. 

Giving thanks for the meal you are about to consume, you never break eye contact as you deliver pillowy kisses to his tip and strum your tongue under his frenulum. Choso’s abs twitch feverishly when the sultry hollow of your mouth lewdly hums over his piercing. The sounding effect alone is nearly enough to make him bust right then. 

You aren’t holding up well yourself either as your thighs squeeze together soaking your fishnets which had long been sticky with your overflowing arousal. Manifesting that it soon would be the moist suction of your vacant cunt and not of your spit glossed lips that would take him whole as you continue to moan wantonly around his girth.

The memory alone didn’t do your mouth justice to Choso, not that he still didn’t cum plenty from thinking of your lips slobbering around him in the last month.

Fuck if you didn’t always give some crazy ass head though.

However, he knows he has to keep control lest he loses all the progress he made training that lil’ attitude of yours tonight. 

Weaving his muscular hands through your hair, in one swift motion Choso thrusts his hips forward. He groans loudly from your warm gummy throat now stuffed full with his cock. Gargling his girth you choke when Choso’s piercing scrapes the back of your throat as he forcibly bobs your head up and down.

Thick tears burn your vision with your running mascara flowing right down your full cheeks. But it's nothing compared to the fiery burn in your cunt that’s even more jealous than before of your throat getting the treatment it needs so desperately.

“You’re gonna be my good girl from now on? Yeah baby, I know—I know ya are. Now open that throatpussy a lil wider for me, got sum’ for it.”

Heart fluttering at his filthy praises, you easily let him coerce your face flush to his pubic bone to take him to the very hilt. Your nose is buried in his dark pubic hair and his balls slap your chin at every thrust. The harsh treatment has your tears mingling with his fluids to coat your face and stain his jeans. 

This is how you should be. 

Obedient and pretty while your sobs vibrate around his cock destroying your throat. All you had to do was worry about taking care of him—in turn he would take care of you and the rest.

Shit though, going so long without your bratty little mouth around his dick Choso wasn’t about to last too much longer. 

His blunted nails dig into your scalp as he hunches, curling over your body from the sloppy way he plows even deeper into you. 

“You’re gonna take all of it princess. Every last bit, understood?”

Choso takes your unintelligible gurgles and the hands shoving against his thighs as confirmation. A needy grunt is followed by jets of his creamy load spurting down your esophagus.

Teeming with adrenaline, you gasp for air. Your lungs are on fire from sputtering up his tangy spunk that somehow even trickled into your windpipes. Choso’s fluids dribble down your chin, a show of proof from you having milked his cock so thoroughly. 

But you're not angry with him for the rough treatment—on the contrary. 

Once your coughs subside you’re gazing up at Choso like an innocent lamb and not the nasty throat goat you just proved yourself to be. Praying you have been enough of a good girl for him to finally fuck your lil’ cunt as hard as you needed.

Plug!Choso who rewards you with gentle strokes that smooth your hair back and caress your flushed cheeks stained with his spunk.

Keeping true to his promise of every last bit, Choso thumbs the remaining salty fluids soiling your face back into your mouth, dumping the excess onto your tongue that greedily slurps it down.

Satisfied, Choso straightens and beckons you onto his lap with a pat to his thigh. Smirking at your enthusiasm as you clumsily settle in. 

“Now doesn’t it feel nice…being a good girl for once?”

Choso affectionately twirls your hair in his fingers and you bob your head eagerly. 

Your lips are mere centimeters apart.

You want to kiss him but Choso doesn’t feel like you earned that just yet, balling his fist to tug your locks taunt when you lean in.

“Not yet, baby.”

You stick your lip out, fussing in aroused frustration. 

“Tsk—now, now none of that shit, brats don’t get kisses—and they certainly don’t get this dick.”

If the look in his eyes were any indication you knew Choso meant business. The searing eye contact had long incinerated all the walls you’d built to keep him out, exposing the very essence of you laid bare in the ashes. 

You have no more defenses against him, becoming more obedient to his every word.

Seconds pass that seem like achingly brutal hours until he breaks the staredown. His sights now follow his hands as they splay out trailing from your collarbone to your breasts, letting them weigh heavy in his palms.

His lecherous scrutiny has you shivering.

“You let anyone touch these?”

The question startles you as does the sensation of Choso rolling your stiffened peaks between his knuckles before giving them a cruel tug. 

You sniffle as you shake your head ‘no’, trying not to whine and still unable to speak from him pounding your vocal cords raw. 

Choso grins knowingly as his hands fondle your plush mounds, kneading the supple flesh and pushing them together before the steamy cavern of Choso’s mouth consumes both at once. The bar of his pierced tongue swirled between your hardened buds, lapping, slurping and nibbling. Squirming you arch back deeper into his mouth and grind your soaked lil cunny on his rapidly stiffening length. Your hands cling to his pigtails for any semblance of an anchor keeping you from tumbling backwards. 

Spurred on by your shuddering cries Choso withdraws from your swollen peaks with a pop and licks up the string of spit that cobwebs between them. His tongue flattens licking each one dutifully as he watches as your jaw slacks from pleasure.

You’ve been so deprived of his touch. You could cum from just a bit more of this.

Yet Choso’s lips don’t stop traveling your body, even higher this time to adorn your decolletage with searing hickies. 

Uncaring if they actually showed up to brand your skin or not.

Choso only needs you to feel them bruise beneath your flesh.

That way you wouldn’t so soon forget exactly who you belonged to.

“And what about my bratty lil’ pussy, princess? I know how needy she is. You let one of those frat fuckers inside her?”

His hot heady breaths puff out to curl around your earlobe, leaving the severely neglected spot in between your thighs throbbing at her mention. 

You think you might actually die if he ignores your cunt for much longer. 

Your thong is utterly drenched. More arousal trickles onto his lap as his muscular hands settle back on your hips. 

“N-no!”

Sounding more like a croaked plea, your voice is barely above a whisper from the hoarseness that settled in your throat.

“W-Waited f-for you Cho.” 

“Then show me.”

Plug!Choso who has you even more intoxicated off the thought of him giving you a pussy inspection. 

He has nearly succeeded in domesticating you and your arms wrap around him submissively as you moan unabashedly into his neck. 

Choso muses he should have handled your snobby ass like this sooner and saved himself some trouble. 

Lifting you, Choso rises from the bed. 

You haven’t realized you’ve moved at all until you crash into the edge of your vanity, shaking the table with a thud. Rattled, you look back, giving Choso the leverage he needs to spin you around. Dizzy from the sudden movement, your arms fly out—scattering bottles of makeup and perfume as you grasp at the wooden tabletop. 

The items roll on the floor in tandem with Choso rolling his hips up against you. You release a loud mewl from his hard erection teasingly poking into your ass.

Thinking only with your pussy, your impatient pleas are met with another slap to the ass. The increased weight behind his hand this time leaves your nerve endings sizzling. 

You were gonna be such a sweet girl by the time he was done with you.

However, he wouldn’t torture you for too much longer. 

Despite his cold authoritarian demeanor, the image of shoveling his cock deep into your creamy cunny after so long of only jerking to the memory has him about to lose it. Grasping the front of your hips, Choso jerks you flush against his pelvis. You fall forward until your cheekbone is smooshed into the vanity’s mirror and his thick bulge molding itself in-between your cheeks

“Stay just like that for me, yeah baby? Hands on the mirror, they better not fuckin’ leave either.”

You position your hands obediently and Choso, as if praising you, tenderly gifts lustful kisses down your spine while he pampers your reddening bottom with gentle caresses. 

“Good fuckin’ girl, princess.”

The more feral his nature, the more like his prey you became. Choso licentiously inspects your body—gripping, sniffing, and nipping at your heated skin until he is level with your ass. 

You whimper as Choso rips your fishnets ripping them open, admiring the indents on your skin from the jeweled tights before burying his face between your squishy cheeks. 

His nose salaciously nuzzles against the soaked material stuck to your barely covered hole and he releases a hot guttural sigh, purring into your pussy. 

Always a fiend for dining on your cunt, Choso is brimming with contentment from your juices leaking onto his face. This may have been your punishment but it was also his reward as the taste of your filthy lil plum never failed to drive him wild—often opting to spend most of the night with his face between your hips, he’d still cum plenty times from just thrusting into the air as he let you ride his face.

Licking his lips, Choso’s tongues traces the pattern of your thong and sucks your juices from the saturated fabric. You’re both loudly moaning now—Choso from the saccharine flavor of your cunt and you from the sweet relief of the hot languid strokes of his skillful tongue.

Choso might have lost himself in that moment of finally getting to taste you again. His eyes roll back at how you lewdly leak through your soaked thong.

All for him. 

You were still his even after all this time.

However, it's your own hastiness that reminds him your penance is worth more than his own pleasure when your ass wiggles impatiently lowering onto his face when Choso’s tongue piercing starts drawing lazy circles around your sensitive lil pearl.

“C-Cho, n-need you…puh-lease s’not fair—”

Determined to control every sensation he gives to you and holding you in place, Choso scolds you.

“Fair? Nah, know what’s not fair, princess?”

His lips move closer to ghost over your ass causing goosebumps to rise over the warm tender skin.

“You actin like a bitch for a whole fuckin’ month and keeping all this good pussy away from me.”

You shudder when his teeth sink into your jiggly flesh causing you to yelp and rock against the vanity.

You’d get more pleasure when he wanted you to. 

Choso would screw that lesson into you soon enough. 

“Fuck—the only thing sweet about you is this lil’ pussy. You’re such a brat but she's so honest. Then again—maybe it's your slutty lil’ pussy that’s actually the brat, thinking she runs shit because of how good she is at milking cock, yeah?”

Choso confirms his suspicions upon peeling your soaked thong to the side. Strings of your arousal practically glue the material to your cunt. Not hesitating to make more of a mess of you, he illicitly hawks globes of his spit into your already dripping lil’ hole eagerly winking at him.

“Let’s see what this slutty cunt has to say for herself, hm?”

Choso places a chaste kiss over your entrance before driving two fingers straight in. Your hands leave streaks down the mirror as you perspire, fogging up the glass with your breathy cries.

Speeding up his pace he digs the pads of his fingers into your walls, searching until they run over a spongy hard spot and he has to fight to keep a hand on your lower back to hold you in place.

God you were virgin-tight again. 

Before ignoring you, Choso had only ever gone three days without fucking you and even then you’d been crying from his tip just stretching the entrance of your taut lil pussy. 

In the past, Choso would have taken his time with you. He knew he needed to work you open more so you wouldn’t be sore tomorrow, and yet his cock throbbed to life again so urgently he couldn't restrain himself for much longer.

That’d be something you’d just have to fucking deal with. 

This was all your fault after all. 

Plug!Choso who wouldn’t let you deprive him of his pussy for any longer—however, he was still going to make you beg for it.

“Tell me what you want, princess.”

Choso rips the thong clean off your ass cheeks. 

Leaving you exposed bare in your fishnets he rises up to lean over you. His moist breath trickles electricity down your spine as his bricked length roughly pipes between your cheeks. 

“Nghh…w-want your c-cock…”

“Whose cock—so you know me now, princess?—Choso is that it?” 

Choso mocks your voice with the hurtful words you hurled at him during the garden brunch. Gliding his girth to prod over your entrance and miss its mark intentionally. 

“Pleeaseee—C-Choso-C-Choso-C-Choso.” 

The pleas of his name slur together as your attention solely focuses on how his leaky shaft lathers your already dripping folds in his pre. 

“That’s right princess…now tell me who am I to you?”

Choso reaches around to swat at your swollen clit. 

You cry out as your body slick with sweat jolts up violently. Choso has to throw more of his weight onto you to keep you from slipping off the vanity entirely.

You could have actually fallen to the floor without noticing as the fuzzy feeling in your brain intensifies, too much is happening all at once. Your intoxicated thoughts swirl in its attempt to work out the finer details of your relationship with Choso—details you likely wouldn't have been able to answer even while completely sober.

Who was Choso to you?  

Well, frankly, right now he was technically nothing. You had never previously defined your relationship and hadn’t had any communication at all over the last month until just a few days ago.

Your dealer? Friend? Casual hookup? Situationship? 

By and large, it had been your fault that you’d never discussed it. You actively ran from any complicated conversations or pulled away whenever Choso proposed something that would be too close to affirming your status. 

You also knew how much Choso liked you, especially from how he’d blush when other parents in Yuji’s class would mistake the two of you for a couple. 

You weren’t a couple though—even if you acted like you were behind closed doors. 

Even so, you knew how he made you feel when you were with him and knew what you wanted him to be to you now. 

That was enough.

Goddamnit.

Your body threatens to explode from the vulnerability of your exposed emotions pricking at your every nerve while you work up the courage to say it. 

This admission was somehow even harder than confessing you loved him—which had honestly been relatively easy in comparison as you were so upset you would have done anything at that moment to make him stay. 

Face on fire, you clasp your eyes shut—as if not looking at Choso in the mirror means he somehow can’t hear the words that stumble out of you.

“M-My boyfriend!”

Silent tears fall as you fear his reaction, you’ve never been the one to lay your feelings on the line first.

Had you really missed your chance to be with him?

Would he just fuck you and leave after?

Choso remains silent as his hands glide up your sides, feeling you tremble under his touch. He lifts your torso, pulling you to his chest possessively. Choso’s arms encircle you as they weave between your breasts and he licks a stray tear away. 

Now you have the most lewd, yet perfectly unhindered, view of his hefty mushroom tip as it quickly slots through your puffed folds to ram into your clit.

The wide grin on his features is evident as your face crumples and pleasurable sobs rupture from you. Choso rests the side of his face against your neck as he takes in your smell, giving you a chaste kiss and savoring how much his body is scenting yours.

“Oh? You asking me out, princess? Well, I’m flattered you finally asked, but that's not exactly the answer I was looking for—”

A feverish chill spreads across your skin and you’re shivering as he locks eyes with you in the mirror.

“—as it’s certainly not what you will be calling me when I’m pushing your kidneys back.”

Choso’s hands lazily roam your body while he continues to sneak his length through your thighs. You unconsciously arch back to rest your nape on his shoulder, allowing him better access to touch you.

So he wasn’t talking about your relationship status after all?! 

Still the devious smile on Choso’s face tells you he intentionally misled you with his phrasing nonetheless. 

“So—who am I?”

The cocky tone in his voice makes it clear exactly what he wants you to call him—and you’d say it—you just need to work up the nerve first.

Unfortunately for you Choso’s patience for your bratty ass had long since depleted.

“Tch, yo we can stop then if—”

You snapped the moment you felt his hands leave you.

“NO, DADDY!” 

“I’ll be a good girl Daddy…s’good. I-I promise puh-leaseee put it in—please—need you, Daddy!”

There was no way in hell Choso would have left without sticking his dick in you but he knew that you were too hard up right now to even dream of calling his bluff.

“That’s right princess. I’m your Daddy. Now show Daddy that arch baby.”

Plug!Choso who smirks into your skin as he tastes you. The sting from a tiny love bite blossoming as he manhandles you back down onto the table’s surface when your already cockdrunk mind doesn’t have you moving fast enough.

“But you’re still actin’ up a lil baby—so you gonna have to put this dick in yourself, got it?”

Choso hums at your dizzy babbles of confirmation, slipping his thumbs over your chubby pussy lips to spread you open. Choso is in awe of how slutty your cunt looked, clenching around nothing but the webs of your own arousal and practically screaming to be busted open wider by his cock.

Catching his tip on your entrance, Choso stalls as he has to chew the inside of his own cheek to resist not thrusting into you completely—you’d do the rest from here. 

Choso was just glad you weren't looking in the mirror to see how hard his abs were trembling. 

Exhaling shaky breaths, you ease back onto him, gingerly sinking down his length. Your kitten nails fitfully scratch at the table just from the stretch of just getting his wide mushroom tip inside. 

SHIIIIT-SHIIIT-SHIIIT—Too much! 

You grit your teeth, he’s so big stretching the walls of your cunt to the degree that your walls actually try to push him out when you flex. However, Choso’s hands are digging into your hips to secure you in place. He’s not helping nor hindering you—but he isn’t letting you run any either.

Your knees knock against the vanity, trembling this much and he's only halfway in. 

“Come on, princess…”

Choso coos gently as he rubs circles into the small of your back with his thumbs, coaxing you to relax. 

The dichotomy between Choso’s treatment erratically switching in severity leaves you reeling. You're on edge with heightened arousal, never sure if his next words or touch would be rough or soothing yet either way it leaves you wanting more of him—anything he’d give, you’d take. 

But right now you need him to have a lil mercy on you. 

Tears brim your wide eyes as you pout and look at him through the mirror, pleading with him.

“Puh-leaseeee Cho—m’daddy…help me?”

Your pitiful submission has Choso cracking. His need to ruin you after so long winning over his want to delay your pleasure along with everything else.

Sighing, Choso relents.

“You know, I spoil you too much, princess…s’why you’re so rotten now.”

No sooner had he finished speaking did he hastily slam into you. Your wet warmth completely sucks him in whole and wraps around him so sinfully he has to dig his blunted nails deeper into your hips to keep from immediately painting your walls white.

God, he really was so incredibly weak for your perfect lil’ pussy.

Grunting, Choso sets an unrelenting tempo as he continues to rail into your cervix, each bruising thrust was him reminding you of every time you ignored him—pretended you didn’t know him—told people you were just friends—and for making him even love someone as mean and bratty as you in the first place.

Grabbing onto the clothing bunched at your waist for leverage, Choso pistoning his hard length in and out of you felt like he was ripping your guts out along with it. 

Gathering together a coherent thought right now was impossible. It’s so good but so intense your body reflexively reaches a hand back, frantically pressing against his abs to slow him.

Choso growls, stilling your hand behind your back while his other springs out to pin your head on the table. 

You were blocking his view of how your ass rippled every time he pounds his cock deeper into your cunt.

He just needed you to be good and take it. 

And take it you did.

Choso fucks you so hard your vanity table creaks and repeatedly slams into your wall causing the entire room to shake. Your mind goes blank as if his cock controls the very flow of blood in your body. Surging tingling sensations electrifying your veins when the curve of his length knocks his albert piercing so aggressively against your cervix. 

Your gooey walls build up so much pressure around his thickness that white spots edge your vision so very close to your nirvana.

“Don’t even think about cumming until I say so my slutty lil’ princess—hold that shit for daddy.”

But there was no way you couldn’t and just as you are at the very edge of your bliss Choso rips it away from you, halting once again to still inside of you.

“Mmmm no please-please-puhleeease let me cum Choso! Please fuck me right Daddy!” 

Plug!Choso, who as much as he wants to edge you past your limits, really pulled out because he also needs to calm down. Choso removes his shirt overhead as the heat in the room has skyrocketed to near sweltering. 

Even unmoving inside you, your pussy still flexes around him like crazy. You weren’t on birth control so he never came inside you, not even once before. Pulling out normally to release over your stomach, ass or tits and wearing a condom on days it wasn't as safe. 

Although he desperately wants to cum inside you, to really mark you as his, could he risk it? 

It would be so stupid and so irresponsible, going far beyond any punishment. 

You still had a year of school left.

He couldn't knock you up. 

Then again you didn't need to go to classes physically—you could take them online. 

Pushing his more debased and wicked thoughts aside, ultimately Choso reigns himself in. He didn’t even want to put you in that position. He’d support you regardless, but he’d admittedly die inside if you decided not to have his child. 

“S-Shit! C-Cho the door!” 

Seeing the sliver of hallway light cast into your dimly lit room, you realize now that you must have forgotten to lock it. This was an old house and your door had the habit of coming open easily from just some minor movement in your room if left unlocked. 

Choso fucking you like he hated you was surely enough to knock it loose.  

Unfortunately for you though, Choso didn’t give a fuck. 

Abruptly snapped out of his perverse breeding fantasies, Choso’s feral eyes, tinged red from his high meet your frantic ones in the mirror.

“No.”

The renewed vigor of his cock plowing through you again strangles any protests, gagging you on them as you feel him back in your throat from the intensity. 

“Nah princess, let them all hear how hard you sob on this loser’s cock while he fucks some manners into you.”

And sob you did. It was difficult to do anything else really as him moving inside you again had your body buzzing more than from your actual high. 

“It doesn’t matter, cause I am about to fuck you so hard even the walls downstairs start shaking—”

Choso’s heavy balls slap against your clit when he kicks his thrusts up a notch and hitches your leg up on the vanity. 

“—n’when they discover us there’s no way they will even want a cockdrunk brat who lets her ‘weirdo burnout stalker’ get her high and fuck her stupid as a president.”

Your mind, clearly ruined by his dick thinks that might not actually be so bad. 

“Shit, you tightened up baby, you actually want someone to find us? See how good I slut you out, yeah?”

Honestly, the harder he thrusted inside you the less you cared—about anything.

School. 

The sorority. 

Your presidency. 

None of it made you feel anywhere near as fulfilled as you were right now with Choso’s thick girth ripping through you. 

The walls quake even more violently. 

The soggy clicking sounds from your soaked cunt almost reach the volume of your crazed screams for him to fuck you even harder. 

Choso was so fucking close again, he was beginning to lose reason.

“F-Fuck it—should I cum in you, princess? I’ll even let you cum too this time.”

Your brain on a mission to cum, fucked so smooth by his fat cock, could care less as long as you got to cum too. 

Oh fuck, just a lil more and you would—

“—PREZ! Did you get the goods or not? We wanna start roll—”

On her phone texting, Brianna—who is pretty fucked up herself—did not even register that the sex noises came from your room. Thinking Choso had left already and sure you were up here salty about her ‘stealing him away’. 

All the color drains from Brianna’s face as she drops her phone as well as her red solo cup filled with spiked seltzer, splashing on her outfit as well as the floor. 

Through the mirror's reflection, she can see the pleasurable agony painted all over your face from getting your cheeks clapped into oblivion by the obvious third leg Choso was packing. Your eyes to the ceiling, heaving out wails as your tongue hangs out of your mouth waging with every thrust Choso carves into your guts. The clicking sound of his cock stirring up your tight lil’ pussy echoes throughout your room. 

“OH MY GAWD! So it was true? You’re actually fucking him??? OHMYGAWDOGMYGAWD they aren’t going to believe this!”

Cockdrunk and stupified you couldn’t give even a piece of a fuck. Honestly, you wouldn't have even noticed her if Choso didn’t stop again. 

No, No, No. You were so sick of being edged! Not after he finally was going to let you cum. 

This can’t be happening right now.

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You needed to cum so bad. 

Your vision is blurry with moisture caught in your lashes as you push yourself up. Grasping onto the edge of the tabletop you used it as leverage to weakly fuck yourself back onto him, doing the work this time if he wouldn’t.

You wouldn’t let Brianna’s ass of all people prevent you from having the orgasm you’ve been fiending over a fucking month for.  

“I jushh w-wanna cum! Pleasssh, wanna-cum-wanna-cum…”

You chant out shamelessly. Your desperate whines stunning both Choso and Brianna. 

Candidly, both thought you'd be horrified enough to stop. 

Choso especially, as even after everything tonight wouldn’t have been shocked if the mortification of actually being caught had you kicking him out.

“Heh.”

Are you actually choosing him for once?

Choso wasn’t going to let the moment pass without finding out—that’s for fuckin’ sure.

The smack he delivers to your cheeks grab your attention as you bellow out more cries. You’re still pathetically trying to get off with your weakened thrusts back. It wasn’t nearly enough to get you off—but better than the burning that threatens to incinerate you whole if you stopped.

“Hey Princess, I’ll let you cum just lemme know something first, yeah?”

You nod your head longingly, dizzy with need.

“Tell this bitch whose dick is this?”

For the first time that night, you answered without missing a beat.

“M-Mine m’daddy, its m-mine!”

You pant breathlessly, still trying to rock yourself back on him but you aren't quite hitting the spot. 

Your eyes lock with Brianna’s through the mirror’s reflection yet you are looking straight through her—your eyes vacant as you could only think of Choso’s cock. 

Your cock.

“Nah don’t look at that bitch, look at me princess.”

Not hesitating, your eyes snap over to him.

“Good fucking girl—and whose pussy is this?” 

“You–YOU CHOSO! Please Daddy—please it's s’good, I need it! Please fuck me Daddy!”

Choso turns to Briana who is frozen in place—her eyes are wider than saucers—as she realizes she’s lost.

Reaching over you he grabs an ounce bag and tosses it near her hitting the floor by her feet. Brianna hesitates though, causing Choso to growl impatiently. 

He’d proved his point, now he wanted this bitch gone.

“Yo Gouda—you a voyeur or somethin’?”

Brianna jumps when Choso addresses her quickly shaking her head ‘no’. 

“Then get the fuck up outta here bitch—MOVE!”

In her haste, Brianna slips on the spilled alcohol as she scrambles to quickly snatch up the weed and her alcohol-soaked phone. The door slams shut as she scurries out the door.

Plug!Choso who has lost all desire to punish you. He only wants to be able to see your face twist in pleasure when he finally lets you have your sweet euphoric release.

In a flash, he’s moving you again. Choso swoops you up and tosses you onto the bed, hurriedly making sure the door is locked this time before kicking off his pants and crawling on top of you. 

“Shhhh princess, you did so good baby, m’gonna let you cum. Gonna have you creaming so hard on this cock, s’your cock baby—you earned it.”

Choso is slurring his words as he peppers your body with blood buzzing kisses to hush your anguished whimpers while he peels the remaining clothes off your body. Not being sheathed inside you is killing him just as much, yet he longs to touch your silky skin unimpeded against his own.

“Been taking me s’gud baby, c’mere…”

The both of you now bare, Choso wastes no time plunging back into your heated core, your heels digging into his back at the intensity. 

Damn—you’re so perfect.  

Allowing himself to let go, his mind shatters as Choso melts into your gooey lil’ cunny. 

His lips are desperate to find yours and Choso is no longer able to withhold himself from sinking into a pussydrunk state. Uncaring for any more displays of dominance, the kiss you share is hurried and sloppy causing your thoughts to splinter. 

Your mind fragments into increasingly smaller pieces of incoherency the more frantic Choso’s kiss becomes. His teeth clash with yours and graze over your swollen lips, unable to control himself as he fitfully bruises your clit from the blunt thrusts of his pelvic bone.

Tears glaze your eyes blinding you from the creamy stickiness at Choso’s hilt that splash between your bodies. The musky fluids flow all over your puffed lil’ pussy to drizzle past his aching balls to puddle on your sheets.

“L-Live with me—with me n’ Yuji—FUHHCKKpussysogood—y-you ain’t gotta be here anymore, princess.”

Choso’s forehead rests against yours and his dick twitches inside of you like crazy from the ridges of his thick engorged cock scraping against every nerve in your cunt.

“Be with us, baby. Be our family. I-I–SHIIIIIT—I love you so-much-so-much.”

All of his bravado strips away and there’s just the soft Choso you knew once again. The one who would do anything for you, the one who made your stomach flip and your heart stop—you didn’t want to go through life anymore without him in yours.

“Y-Yes! I wanna—ah fuhhhh—s’gud l-love you D-Daddy!”

Overwhelmed with emotion for you and knowing he would come soon, Choso reaches a shaky hand between you to roughly smash his palm into your sensitive lil’ bud. The soaked slick from your bodies causes his movements to jerk erratically and your hips involuntarily thrash against him.

Choso screws his eyes shut, your bodies so wet he nearly slips off of you in his single-minded focus to make you cum. He has to be ready to pull out of you as soon as you do or he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from shooting all of his cum in you—yet that’s exactly what your fucked out lil’ pussy wants. 

“C-Cum—cum in me Daddy…”

Your voice is barely above a whisper as you almost fade out of consciousness from the sublime shockwaves that erupt over your body as you are nearly at the peak of your climax.

Choso’s hips falter, almost in a more fucked out condition than you. He nearly dumped his entire load into you then but his last sliver of sanity held out.

“SHIIIIIT—P-Princess—Do ya even know what y’er s-saying to me right now?” 

Time slows, your hand cups his face staring with conviction as best you could into his dark aubergine eyes as your other weakly directs the palm pressing on your clit to rest on your belly.  

“Cum in me Choso—I-I wouldn’t mind having a baby if it's yours.” 

Oh fuck… 

And with that your knees were by your ears and your ankles dangle off his shoulders. 

Sure, you were intoxicated on many substances—his dick included and as much as you may have just been talking shit at this moment Choso doesn’t care anymore.

You’d told him you’d have his baby and it’s all his pussydrunk mind can process.

Like a puppy Choso whimpers his groans keen sharply out of him as his tongue dangles to drip slobber down your neck. He’s reverting back to the sloppy whiny mess you know him to be when hes fucked himself out from treating your drooling hole like a well-loved pocket pussy.

“MHMMM FUCK!”

The knot inside you twists impossibly tighter, straining your nerves until it finally snaps sending shockwaves through you. You lose yourself in nonsensical cries as your worn battered body convulses uncontrollably, creaming around his cock. 

If your brain hadn’t shut down at this very moment—only filled with the white noise of your searing orgasm—you might be worried Choso just broke your bed. The creaking fills the room as the sound of metal bending is apparent although neither of you are concerned.

“—s’gonna be OK, mmm-FUCK—m’gonna take care of you, love you—we’ll be a real family then, you, me, yuji—n’our baby!”

You don’t even hear him as you’re on autopilot now. The red streaks your kitten nails scratch across his muscular shoulders urge him on like the squelching sounds of your squirt gushing out of you and wet smacks of his balls colliding with your ass.

Overstimulating your senses, Choso sweeps you up into another all consuming kiss. The mind-numbing aftershocks of your blissful tremors leaves your tongue limp as his mouth hungrily devours yours. When Choso finally releases, his hot seed pumps into your tummy as his body writhes on top of yours. 

The mind numbing aftershock of your euphoric release continues as Choso proceed to fuck more and more of his thick ropes of his cum into you. He doesn’t show signs of slowing down but your body on the other hand fades, giving into the comforting gratification of sleep after having your guts rearranged. 

“O-one more time, p-princess—pleaseeee.”

Your thankful at that moment you’ve previously told Choso you didn’t mind somnophilia and gave him the free use pass to fuck you while you slept. You rarely actually could even stay asleep with how hard he would end up railing you but there was a first time for everything with your cunt finally content and full after so long your exhaustion drags you into a deep slumber. 

Plug!Choso who tightly cuddles you to him as you both sleep. The two of you twisted up like a pretzel in a mess of limbs with you practically smashed between Choso and the wall. 

Your XL twin bed clearly wasn't meant to comfortably fit two people like this. 

You’re still mostly asleep though, softly groaning as the cheery morning sun pierces through your thin curtains. You move to throw a pillow over your face only to discover you cannot budge. 

However, you can't say you weren’t used to waking up like this. Choso was always a hardcore cuddler. You missed the mornings you’d wake overheated and skin to skin. Your legs would find themselves intertwined just like this. 

Somehow, Choso would always find a way to fuse the both of your bodies together where every part of him was touching some piece of you.

Typical…

The sleepy thought drifts through your brain, sensing it's still far too early for you to wake up. Wanting to drift back to sleep you burrow your face deeper into his chest, stiffening when your mind does the very opposite and wakes up enough to recall the events of the previous night.

Sobering quickly in the daylight, a sinking feeling begins to suffocate your heart. The now familiar guilt you’ve accumulated over the past month amplifies the hangover etching itself behind your eyes. 

You can’t help but panic as the memories from the night before come rushing back. 

There was still so much uncertainty. 

Having been utterly humbled for the first time in your life you can’t stop the self doubt that questions if he’d even meant everything he said last night—you were both lit as hell. 

You’d meant it though.

Your heart seizes at the thought that this might be the last time you’d wake up in his arms. Before you know it you are crying again trembling as you try not to wake Choso up with your silent tears.

You are quiet enough but Choso is also a light sleeper and stirs awake at the small fit you’re having.

“H-Hey, morning princess *yawns*—wait, what's wrong?”

His tired eyes are full of loving concern as Choso cups your face wiping away your tears before bringing you into his chest, tightening his hand on your head.

“Shit, was I too rough on you last night princess? Fuck, I know how much all this shit means to you I—”

You interrupt Choso, you can’t let him beat himself up over you any longer.

“N-No, Cho—”

Sniffling, you break away from his hold just enough to maneuver yourself to meet his tired eyes. 

You mentally kick yourself—you hated being such a crybaby now but you couldn't help it. You were left feeling so vulnerable after being stripped of all pretenses the night before—it all just started pouring out of you— 

“—d-did you mean it? W-What you said? Cause I—I meant what I said. I-I wanna be with you and Yuji. C-Cook breakfast and f-fall asleep watching movies and go to all his games with you—I’ll never miss another game and—and—”

“Bet.”

Wait…huh?

Even after last night you half-still expect him to be upset with you, you’d still expected you’d have to beg. 

You’re left speechless.

“Bet. Let’s pack up your shit then, princess.”

Choso’s bright grin is near blinding to your weary gaze. 

“I meant everything I said, I could never lie to you.”

Giving you a tender kiss on your forehead, he forces you to look him in the eyes. Choso takes in all your looks of uncertainty before melting them away, softly cooing affirmations with his lips fluttering over yours. You’re so needy for his touch as you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him even closer.

Not being able to resist your body’s calls for him, you soon find yourself underneath Choso who rubs his morning wood against your core still soaked with his essence from the night before.

Choso smirks down at you, the cockiness back in his voice.

“What I say before? You’re my family—Fuck those bitches and fuck your parents—I got you.”

Plug!Choso, who doesn’t know what time it is but knows he has to go pick up Yuji from his friends soon. He also doesn’t know if he should expect your nosy ass sorority sisters to barge in again. Still, that doesn’t stop him from sinking into your sopping heat once more, never taking his lips off of you. 

Unlike the fervor of last night, his strokes are slow. The anger and intensity are gone, but the passion still remains simmering under your skin. Choso is savoring every bit of you as he devours your mewls, drinking them down along with any lingering unsureties. 

But, fuck—he doesn't feel like he’ll be able to keep himself from cumming inside you from now on. Not when you’d be living with him and Yuji, acting all domestic like. 

Images of a would-be future with you swirl in his mind—you pregnant, giggling at Yuji when he jumps in surprise from feeling the baby kick—your belly growing so large you had to cradle a hand underneath when you adorably waddled from room-to-room—the day of delivery when you both finally get to meet the child you cr—

—MUTHRFUUUUH!

Choso’s eyes roll towards the ceiling as he whines loudly, his whole body is shivering along with his premature release. Buckets of his viscous seed slosh in your womb with every sloppy stutter of his hips, pushing the mass overflow of his cum out of your swollen hole and down the crack of your ass.

Fucking you through his overstimulation, your cries only fuel his intent to impregnate you. The want for the sensual intimacy that slow fucking brings after a reconciliation being overtaken by the intense primal urge to put a baby in your belly.

There was no need for any additional vocalizations of affection when Choso is so adamantly reciprocating your feelings, his creamy cum filling you with promises of his devotion which he fucks even deeper into your womb. 

You aren’t able to recall the last time you felt this satisfied. Working so hard to meet everyone else’s standards was exhausting and you didn’t regret your choice.

You had no plans now other than being with Choso. 

And contrary to the dread of what you had previously thought deviating off course would be like—it frees you. You love and trust Choso enough to let go of all of it and just let life take you where it would.

You’d be content as long as you have him and Yuji. 

Choso knows this yet even so, he is still on a mission to add a fourth to your new little family sooner rather than later. 

He knew you were speaking of the future when you said you’d have his kid the night before but—why delay the inevitable? 

Choso needed to fill you up at least 2 more times before he’d let you leave this bed—no matter how many of your sorority sisters would walk in—they could watch for all he cares.

Yeah at this rate you’d definitely be pregnant by the start of school next year.

Shit, he’d have to go buy a ring soon.

⋙ how was that? holy hell i think this is the longest fic i've written lol. i wanted to take my time with this because although brat taming isn't hard i still wanted to capture the essence of choso. he can be mean enough to do it he's definitely going to internally struggle a bit and be our whiny feral lil baby gworl at the end lol.

taglist will be in a reblog in the morning. needed to get this out and then go to bed. i might also edit it a bit as well. as some of it wasn't proofed.

reblogs and comments so appreciated, i wanna know what u think, send me asks too!

[ervotica]

MDNI pairing; simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader warnings; smut (18+ ONLY), rough rough sex, heavy choking, breathplay & asphyxiation in a controlled environment, loss of consciousness, multiple orgasms, simon is mean but in a sweet way, pre-established consent, subspace (may write a part two of the aftercare if that's something you lot would be interested in!) a/n; this is my first cod fic so go easy on me please!! my cod requests and thirst discussions are wide open (like me for simon ngl) so if you have anything you want to talk about or request PLEASE don't hesitate to pop it in my inbox!

Really, you did this to yourself.

You're the one who asked Simon to be rough, to manhandle you, to fuck you hard and deep until you forget your own name.

He does just that.

He's got your back anchored to his firm chest by means of a thick bicep curled around your throat, restricting your airways just enough until the world tunes out around you, everything a little fuzzy as he pistons his hips into your soft cunt; all you can feel is him, the way the fat head of his cock nestles deep against your cervix, the drag of it against your walls as he pulls out only to force you wide open again for him.

You're far past forming coherent words, eyes rolling and lashes fluttering when he hikes you further up by the soft column of your throat until you arch against his chest, limp and pliable like putty under the control of those experienced hands. Your cunt drools with each rocking movement, excreting more of the milky fluid as the vein that runs against the underside of his cock- purple and angry with his arousal- creates a delicious friction against your pulsing insides.

You garble something entirely unintelligible when that corded arm tightens around your neck, your mouth hanging open as you drool like a leaky tap, kiss-bitten lips gaping when you halfheartedly attempt to form something that isn't completely inarticulate.

You can't even warn him before you're cumming on the length of him with a silent cry, your muscles pulling tight like a bowstring as you quiver under his expert touch before you're falling limp, dead weight in his arms. His spare hand reaches up and over to deliver a firm slap to your cheek in an effort to rouse you from your haze, but you only sink further into that blissful headspace where nothing matters except the way that he's fucking you.

You're not sure you could beg him for more if you tried despite so desperately wanting it. Your sticky cunt weeps over his cock, running in a stream downward until his heavy balls are saturated in your sweet juices, your body twitching weakly when the pleasure washes over you once again.

"There you go, baby," he murmurs, fisting your hair into a ponytail at the back of your head until he's snapping your head up, those eyes hungrily surveying your wrecked expression– eyes blackened with mascara from crying on his cock, lids barely open in your daze, lips swollen and flushed dark with colour. If he were to release his bruising grip on you, you'd crumple, entirely unable to hold yourself up. "My good, good girl. You gonna let me give you one more?"

You whine something that neither one of you understand, but the nod of your head and the way your eyes light up as you drag yourself from bliss just enough to affirm has him resuming his movements, hiking his knee up and over your hip to give him deeper access to fuck you; his pace quickens and you're damn near wailing by the time he grabs your bobbing throat, all hulking six foot four of him tipping forward until your airway is near completely cut off and your noises are silenced by the flexing muscles.

"Easy, love, take it easy," he murmurs, demands really, cadence gravelly but saccharine sweet, a stark juxtaposition to his cruel touch; you're barrelling towards another orgasm, entire body alight and burning with a pleasure that's damn near unbearable; your arse is slick and bruised, branded by his touch as his hips slap lewdly against you.

It hits you like a freight train, every muscle pulling tight and then suddenly liquifying all at once– and as the pleasure ebbs away, you're hit with the frightening realisation that you truly can't breathe. You force a limp hand up to claw at the tense muscles clamped around your neck, a pained, gasping little noise breaking free of the confines of your chest. But still, he doesn't let up. The room spins and shrinks around you, darkness creeping in at the corners until it's consumed you. His voice is dark and unyielding against the shell of your ear.

"Let it happen," he says. "'ve got you. Don't fight it."

It's not like you have much of a choice anyway as your head drops, hair hanging loosely around your face when you fall headfirst into darkness.

When you come to, you're flat on your back, no longer speared on the thick length of him as he lazily pumps his cock, pressing your knees upward against your chest in order to have ample room to torture your throbbing cunt with calloused fingers.

"There she is." Simon grins when you whimper and reach up for him, gazing through sticky lashes with those teary eyes he adores. He indulges you, coming forward to smear a quick kiss to the crown of your skull before he's gathering your slick with the head of his cock, breaching your sore entrance once again.

That night, you're sure you meet God.

And he looks an awful lot like Simon Riley.

[incognit0slut]

Hi author, can you write one where soft Dom Spencer (our beloved) is needy after work and tries to distract reader while she's cooking?

Heat of the Moment

warnings/notes: I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t have the energy to write smut but I will write the build-up scene to it. So suggestive content (MDNI) with a sprinkle of fluff and a whole lot of Spencer being horny. (This is also very self-indulgent because I fucking love mac and cheese, and if any of you hate cheese in general, I’m afraid we can’t be friends)

Cooking isn’t exactly your best skill. Just follow the recipe, they say, and you do, although following step-by-step instructions isn’t the same as having a natural knack for it. No matter how closely you measure the spices or time in the oven, something always seems a bit off. A little bit overcooked. A little bit burnt. But Spencer, bless your boyfriend’s heart, never complains.

“What smells so good?”

You look over your shoulder to see him strolling into the kitchen, still in his work clothes. Loose dress pants, rolled-up sleeves, top buttons undone. The tie you help him put on this morning is missing.

“You don’t always have to do that, you know?” You say as you turn back toward the stove. You stir the creamy, slightly lumpy mac and cheese, the thick sauce clinging to the pasta in a way that looks almost perfect, if not for the slightly scorched edges.

“Do what?”

“Pretend it’s amazing,” you reply with a sigh. “I know it’s not.”

You feel his presence behind you. “I’m not pretending.”

“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

He peers over your shoulder. “I don’t need to. I trust you.”

“You trust me too much.”

“Just as much as you do,” he explains, placing his hands on your waist. “You trust me too, don’t you?”

“Trusting you to carry a gun isn’t the same as trusting your taste buds,” you reply, slightly leaning into him. Your back lands perfectly against his chest. “One requires skill, the other… a strong stomach.”

He gives your waist a gentle squeeze as his laughter fills the small space between you. You like his laugh, it’s warm and infectious. It makes you smile even though you’re feeling a bit self-conscious about your cooking.

“Well, I’ve survived both so far. So I think I’m doing pretty well.”

You stare at the pot, watching the mac and cheese bubble slightly. “What do you think the chances are of us getting food poisoning from this?”

Spencer gently pulls your hair out of the way, his fingers lightly brushing against your neck. He leans in and presses a soft kiss. “I’d say the chances are low,” he murmurs. “You're always too hard on yourself.”

You laugh softly, leaning back into him. “Maybe, but I just don’t want to mess this up.”

His hands start to wander, tracing gentle patterns on your waist before sliding around to your stomach. “You won’t mess it up,” he assures you. He lets his lips trail down your neck. “And even if you did, I wouldn’t mind.”

You feel a rush of warmth that has nothing to do with the stove. “Really?”

“It’s already good because you made it.”

You can feel his body pressing closer, his warmth enveloping as he lingers on the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Spencer, are you trying to distract me?”

You can practically feel the smile on your skin. He shakes his head, the slight roughness of his stubble brushing against your neck as he murmurs, “Not distracting, just appreciating.”

His denial is playful, his tone light, but his actions tell a different story. His hands continue their exploration, now slipping underneath your shirt. His palm is warm and slightly rough as it makes contact with your skin. He traces gentle patterns along your stomach, moving so slowly and as if he’s savoring every inch.

You feel your pulse quicken, each beat echoing in your ears. “Baby…”

“Hm?” he hums, and your breath catches when his thumb brushes just below your breasts.

“If you keep this up, there might not be any food for dinner.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

You try to focus on the pot, where the sauce has begun to form a thicker layer at the bottom, slightly burned and sticking. But his touch makes it difficult to concentrate. "Unless you plan to feed us on kisses alone, I think we might need something more substantial too."

Spencer laughs softly, a low rumble of amusement that you can feel as much as hear. "I don’t know, kisses for dinner sounds pretty tempting."

"I’m afraid it won’t satisfy our hunger."

"I think it’ll satisfy mine just fine."

“Oh my god,” you gasp, catching on to the deeper meaning in his words. You tighten your grip on the wooden spoon as you resume your stirring. “Stop distracting me.”

If anything, he clings to you even more. He rests his chin on your shoulder as his hands travel down your stomach again, only this time, they linger at the hem of your shorts. His fingers play with the fabric, teasingly tugging at it.

“Spencer.”

“What?”

And then you feel it, the unmistakable pressure of his arousal pressing against your back. It’s a firm, urgent presence, a hard line that aligns tightly against your own curves. The hardness of it distracts you even further.

“You’re making it really hard to cook,” you murmur, trying to sound stern but the breathiness in your voice betrays your growing distraction.

He slips a hand inside the waistband of your shorts while the other trace along your stomach. “I think we should forget about cooking for a while.”

“You know we can’t do that,” you try to argue, even as your hips instinctively follow his touch. “We need to eat.”

“But we could be doing other things,” Spencer whispers, nipping gently at your earlobe. His teeth graze your skin lightly before his lips close around it, tugging softly. The sigh you let out is shaky and breathless. The idea is tempting, dangerously so. The persistent heat from his hand, now tracing idle circles on your underwear, isn’t helping your focus.

“Aren’t you—” your grip on the wooden spoon loosens when he slips a finger over the waistband. “Aren’t you the one who… always says how our bodies need… what was it again?”

Spencer nods. “The human body need about 2,000 calories a day to function properly. But,” he continues, slipping another finger in. “We also need affection and touch for our emotional well-being.”

You swallow hard. “What else do we need?”

“Pleasure. Lots of it.”

You don’t know whether you should be laughing or not. His boldness is both shocking and strangely amusing. Spencer isn't the type to be straightforward when it comes to sex, but when he is, it's always intense. He's clingy, he craves attention, and even when his cheeks flush with embarrassment, it doesn't stop him. It hasn't stopped him in the past, and it's not stopping him now.

Your mind scatters as he starts pressing himself harder, slightly grinding behind you. And when he adds another finger in, then followed by another until all of his five fingers dive into your underwear, you know you’re already too far gone. You let go of your grip on the wooden spoon before it clatters inside the pot, reaching down to hold his arm to stop him.

“Fine. Fine. You win.” You breathe out heavily as you gently pull his hand out. “We should at least turn off the stove first.”

He grins, pulling away to turn off the burner. “There. Now, where were we?”

You finally turn to face him, your hands finding their way to his shirt. You grip onto the material. “I think you were about to prove a point about pleasure.”

His response is a soft laugh before his lips meet yours. He’s gentle when he touches you. He always is. His hands slides around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. You let your hand trail over his chest, up, up, up, until your fingers find the soft curls of his hair.

When he finally pulls away, he's smiling from ear to ear. "I think that's proof enough, don't you?"

You smile back, breathless and flushed. "Maybe," you reply, your fingers gently tugging at his hair. "But I might need a bit more convincing."

His grin widens, and he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, "I can do that."

You can feel his hands tightening around your waist as he begins to kiss you again, deeper this time. It's all teeth and tongue, raw and hungry. The forgotten dinner on the stove barely registers in your mind. But with his hands and lips distracting you, you find it hard to worry about anything else.

[slttygeto]

SLOWLY LOVING YOU — SUGURU GETO.

જ⁀➴ synopsis: Before Yaga introduces you to the third years, Suguru is a little unsure of you joining them. And then he meets you, and suddenly his heart doesn’t know how to slow down.

જ⁀➴ content warning: fem!reader, reader gets a few cuts and faints, swearing and a lot of fluff.

જ⁀➴ word count: 4,2k

જ⁀➴ note: thank you to the sweet @duhsies for commissioning me! I had so much fun writing it<3!!

“Yaga says there’s a newcomer,” Satoru had a habit of speaking with a mouthful, which Suguru really hated. A hand is smacking the back of the white haired’s head who hisses at the contact before glaring at his best friend.

“Hey!” He protests, his sunglasses resting at the tip of his nose.

“Swallow your food.” Suguru presses, taking a sip from his drink. He had heard long ago from Yaga about this newcomer, and wasn’t really sure how to feel about it. It’s not that he wasn’t good with new people (he wasn’t), but he felt like it was a little odd to transfer someone and have them be with him, Shoko and Gojo right away. They had to have a good cursed technique, a great control of their cursed energy, otherwise they’d just get in the way of everything and—ouf, this was too negative.

Who was he to judge? Sure, a part of him was skeptical, but he was trying to awaken the other side that usually reassures him that everything will turn out just fine.

“I wonder if it’s guy or a girl,” Satoru speaks again, and this time (surprisingly) he swallows his food before opening his mouth. Suguru shrugs at his best friend, grabbing a fry from his tray of food.

“It won’t really change much, I just hope they’re good at what they do,”

“Oh Suguruuu,” Gojo whines at his friend’s negativity, pushing him but not too hard. “Don’t be such a kill joy, I’m pretty sure that they’re good. Otherwise, Yaga wouldn’t look so excited.”

“Why are you the one telling me to be nice?” The black haired male raises an eyebrow, carefully picking out a fry that didn’t have ketchup on it.

“You rubbed off on me,” Satoru wiggles his eyebrows to which Suguru rolls his eyes at.

“Don’t.” Suguru presses, but it’s too late to stop his friend’s funny joke.

“That’s a little fruity—“

“Finish your food.”

When they head back to the school grounds after having lunch, they’re pleasantly surprised when they find Yaga, Shoko and an unknown girl standing near one of the school buildings. From the looks of it, you weren’t that nervous. Sure, you were checking out your surroundings as the school was new, but nothing about your demeanor suggested that you were anxious. Not even a little.

Suguru raises his eyebrows at this, and although he tries not to stare too hard at you, Gojo is quick to notice it and nudges him with an elbow.

“Hey, think that’s the new girl?”

“I mean, it looks like it,” Suguru mumbles a response and stops walking when Yaga starts to approach them.

“You finally decided to show up,” Oh, an ass-whooping is on the way.

“The mission took us way too long,” it’s Satoru who tries his luck as his usual, and the grin on his face draws a similar one on Suguru’s lips.

“Yeah, but we managed to get it done with. That’s all what matters,” if it wasn’t for Satoru’s love to piss off their teacher, Suguru is sure that he wouldn’t bother. But it’s fun, and it gives the students something to laugh about.

You watch the scene unfold before you and you raise your eyebrows at how easy going the pair standing in front of you was. Did they not fear Yaga? You had been introduced to the man a couple of weeks ago before you were transferred to the school, and despite the comforting vibe the man had, you still felt like you owed him some sort of respect.

Something the two guys bickering with their teacher seemed to lack. Or maybe it was just an act.

Yaga gives the two guys a comical smack to the back of their heads and you hear Shoko snicker next to you. You fight back a smile of your own, until you feel Shoko pat your back, almost in reassurance.

“You can laugh, they won’t be offended.” You relax at this, and before you could even say anything in response, Yaga is clearing his throat to get your attention.

“You can introduce yourself,” oh, he’s talking to me. You’re suddenly aware of the three pairs of eyes fixated on you, and you fidget nervously.

“Hello, my name is (name) and I’m—“

“That’s boring!” The white haired male cuts you off, and your eye twitches. Well, that’s offensive. Before you could even glare at him, he’s approaching you while taking off his sunglasses and your heart stills at the sight. Those eyes felt like they were staring into your soul.

“Show us your technique, that’s a much more interesting way to introduce yourself,” your body relaxes at this, and you can see Yaga signaling you to go along with what your classmate was saying.

“Oh, okay then,”

Suguru’s eyes are cat-like as they fixate on you. You get in position to show off your technique and suddenly, everything goes quiet. He could feel the energy shift when you stepped away from them, and so he was anticipating a big show. Perhaps, you were a show-off like Gojo.

Suddenly, the air feels a little different—why is it wet? He touches his skin to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, and before he could even process things, fog had engulfed him entirely. This was new.

You were nowhere to be seen, maybe that was your technique—a little weak, Suguru thought. But it felt like you read his mind because right in front of him was standing a carbon copy of himself. A clone.

“What the—“ The clone stands still as Suguru gets into a fighting position, ready to unleash a weak curse at it, but the clone is quick to do the same and releases a different curse—the clone knew about his technique?

Before things could escalate further, he heard a snap of fingers from behind him and his eyes widen when the fog and the clone both disappear at once. You were standing right behind him. Being so focused on the fact that what was standing in front of Suguru was a literal doppelganger, he failed to notice you sneak up behind him. He assumed that you snapping your fingers was to deactivate your technique, but it was also a realization that you made him so unaware of his surroundings—and that was the beauty of your technique.

Everyone looks amused by Suguru’s confused expression. He was staring you right in the eye, and your confidence and the relaxed expression painting your face would normally sned shivers down anyone’s spine. It was awkwardly silent for a few moments before Gojo decides to break the silence.

“That was rather impressive, wasn’t it?” Shoko agrees with her classmate, clapping almost ceremoniously. Yaga steps away from the two to approach you and Suguru who was still staring at you, this time with less resentfulness. Sure, he hated having someone sneak up behind him. And the fact that you had chosen him out of the three felt a little strange, but he tried not to overthink it.

Maybe it’s because I looked like a bitch.

He immediately brushes off the thought when you flash him an unapologetic smile, the confidence you gave off a few moments ago replaced with something he couldn’t quite decipher—were you getting shy?

His lips part almost in shock at the way your cheeks are slightly pink, and you take two steps back and away from him before apologizing out loud.

“Sorry, I just thought you looked a little bored.”

Oh, not anymore.

“That to you, is a Grade 1 sorcerer.” Yaga announces very proudly. Usually, Grade S sorcerers would be the one to be introduced like this—with so much pleasure and honor. But Yaga didn’t care about that. He saw potential in you and embraced it like you were his top student.

Geto couldn’t shake off the giddy feeling in his chest. He watched as Satoru came over to your side and ruffles your hair, promising that you were going to have a good time at school because he was there. And you played along, the playful expression you wore on your face not matching the blush on your cheeks—you were just easily flustered having this much attention on you.

“What do you say, Suguru?” He snaps out of his thoughts at the mention of his name, and he finds his best friend staring at him with those eyes. He caught him looking at you, didn’t he?

“Sorry, I zoned out.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but he wasn’t going to say that you seemed so interesting that he found himself so lost in his thoughts. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like how you seemed so unaware of the fact that you were breaking down his walls one by one, and all of this happening in less than an hour of meeting you? Unbelievable.

“I said, we are all gonna get along so well, right?” Glancing at you, he notices how you seem to shift your attention back to him the moment his name is mentioned. You’re almost eager to find out what he has to say next, sparkly eyes and a tight lipped smile making you look so fucking adorable—oh fuck, no.

“Yeah, we will.”

He was officially and totally fucked.

--

It’s been a few months since you officially transferred to Jujutsu high, and things were going great. You felt like you fit in so perfectly, you were a bit nervous that you would be a burden since the trio seemed to have a dynamic of their own, being the one to ruin the dynamic—or worse, feel left out would just be the highlight of your school year. But they were so nice. Each in their own way.

While Gojo felt like a troublesome sibling with his many pranks and jokes, Shoko truly felt like a close friend. You could crack jokes with her, share food and even watch movies during the weekend. The friendship you shared with both seemed very genuine and you were so grateful for that.

And then there was Geto.

Suguru Geto, tall and handsome, with long dark luscious hair and cat-like eyes. A smile that seemed precious since it appeared way less than you would want. A voice that felt like he was purring in your ear and a personality that had your heart stuttering in your chest.

He had caught your eye the moment you saw him walk on the school grounds. You tried not to make your tiny crush on the man obvious right away, but it felt like you blew your cover when you chose him as your target when asked to show off your technique.

Things weren’t exactly bad between you and the tall male, but they weren’t that good either. There an awkwardness that always lingered when you were both left alone, your heart would beat so fast and so incessantly when you felt his eyes on you before he places a piece of his chocolate on your desk.

“Was gonna share it with Satoru, but he pissed me off today.” You’re almost shocked that he’s even addressing you when neither Shoko nor Satoru were in the classroom.

“Are you sure? He does like sweets,” you still grab the sweet treat and place it in your mouth, to which he chuckles at.

“Well, you ate it immediately. Seems like you don’t care.”

“Well, he did piss me off too today,” you’re grinning, playing with the wrap of the chocolate. Suguru raises his eyebrows at your remark and continues to tease you.

“Was it another joke about how bad his clone was? I mean he’s not entirely wrong—“

“Stooop,” you groan out, resting your head on your desk in defeat. You were too embarrassed about the recent incident, and no one seemed to want to let go of it.

Rather than being embarrassed that his clone was that ugly, Gojo’s sudden and quick realization that your clones had an immediate link to your photographic memory lit up a bulb at the top of his head. And so the teasing began.

How come Suguru’s was so accurate on day one!

Do you have something to share with the class?

It was horrible, and you remember how Yaga had to smack the white haired male in the back of his head to get him to stop. He caught onto your little crush on Suguru faster than you had anticipated, but you were glad that when asked what he was teasing you about, Satoru chose to save you the embarrassment and just say that his clone was so ugly, you needed more practice.

“I just need more practice,” you say, a little muffled from having your face in your arm. Suguru stares at you for a few moments from his seat, then he suddenly gets up and walks towards you. He crouches down in front of your desk and you quickly raise your head in question.

“Hm?”

“You don’t hate me, right?” He could’ve asked that question from his desk, he knows that. But it would’ve seemed a little cowardly cause he knows he would avoid looking you in the eyes. But eye contact was important when communicating things, and right now was one of the few moments where Suguru felt like he was going to pee his pants waiting for an answer.

“Hate you?”

“I’m aware that hate is a big word—it’s a strong feeling too, but I just need to know if you feel that way about me.” Suguru was supposed to feel stupid, maybe a little insane for asking you something like this. But he noticed how things always got quiet when it was just you two alone. It didn’t necessarily mean you hated him, but a part of him wanted to make sure you didn’t resent him for mysterious reasons.

“I don’t hate you,” you pause your words, and Suguru watches as your face slightly reddens as you avoid his eyes. “Uh, just nervous.”

Now, why did I say that? It’s one thing to know that he makes you feel this way, but it’s another when you fully admit it to him and watch as he raises both of his eyebrows, almost in shock.

“Nervous?” At first, he’s scared that the word has a bitter taste to it—but it slowly dissipates when he sees the blush on your face darken because why did he have to say it like that.

It sounded like he was saying it for the first time, carefully tasting each letter and syllable. You felt nervous around Suguru.

“You are kind of intimidating,” the small smile painting your lips eases Suguru’s nerves despite having another word describe him. But he’s heard this one before. In fact, he likes it. He likes the way it makes him feel, the ego boost it gives him when he sees people quiver in his presence.

But he didn’t want to have this kind of effect on you. You didn’t need to fear him or avoid his eyes for him to know that he was a powerful sorcerer—he wanted you to feel safe with him. He wanted to rid you of any problem weighing you down, have that smile on your lips for a long time. Whatever Suguru felt for you, he was coming to terms with it and accepting it.

Slowly that is.

“If I’m intimidating, then is Yaga like a monster to you?” Suguru teases you back, and he stands up from his crouching position. He stares down at you with a grin, his sharp eyes making eye contact with your own bright ones. A contrast like this looked so endearing.

“Yes.” You don’t hesitate as you reply, and Geto immediately bursts into laughter at this.

“Wow, you didn’t even hesitate.” Wow, I made him laugh.

“But he is scary! I mean, he’s very nice… but I don’t think I’d wanna piss him off like Gojo does,” you mumble the last part, but Suguru hears you loud and clear.

“Satoru pisses off everyone, so you’re safe.”

Having a conversation like this with Geto felt nice. It wasn’t that often that you two chatted or even had the time to sit down and give each other normal classmate updates. So to be able to talk to him like this, make him laugh until his stomach hurts before walking to your dorms felt new. But you weren’t complaining.  

--

Over the last few months, you’ve gone on a couple of missions with both Suguru and Satoru. They were all successful, and you always got done with them in half of the time.

But today was different. You were going on a mission with Suguru.

Yaga mentioned how you both seemed to work really well together, and while Suguru might’ve been stronger than you, you had so much potential that couldn’t get wasted. Suguru seemed like the perfect fit for a partner and a sort of mentor.

The mission was going to take place in another city, which is why you find yourself on the train with the tall male who was trying to get some sleep.

Sitting across from each other, you couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the guy. He looked too good from this angle, you could feel your body tingling in embarrassment.

The guy’s just trying to sleep

Over the last few months, no matter how hard you tried to brush your feelings for Suguru, they resurfaced not only a day later when he did something that would make your heart stutter in your chest. You remember him making you food when you were sick, giving you his scarf when you got too cold, suggesting to style your hair for you—how could you not fall for him?

But you were terrified of rejection. You were scared that those feelings could potentially ruin the friendship between you two, and God knows how horrible that would make you feel.

“We’re there,” you were so lost in your thought, that you didn’t feel the train stop. Only Suguru’s hand on your shoulder was able to snap you out of it.

“Oh sorry,” you stand up and make your way out of the train with Suguru following close behind.

“Did you manage to get some sleep?” He asks from behind you, and you slow down your pace to match his footsteps before shaking your head.

“Not really, I wasn’t that tired.”

“Oh but you will be after the mission, that’s always how it is.” He was referring to the many times you and Gojo would end up falling asleep on each other on the way back home, and he would secretly take pictures of the white haired male drooling on your hair to show it to you when you both wake up.

“Thank god he’s not here to drool on my hair,” you say with a hint of annoyance, but it’s harmless.

“Oh, you never know,” the playfulness to his voice makes you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face gives away that you were anything but annoyed.

You arrive to said location after ten minutes of walking. And at first sight, it seemed like any normal abandoned building; a little creepy, no color painting its exterior and most importantly lifeless. But the smell—god, the gut wrenching smell that came from it made you cringe.

“God, it smells horrible.”

“Then we’re at the right place.” Suguru is the first one to walk in, and you follow close after. You take careful steps, eyes darting around the area to scan it for any clues.

“I have a horrible feeling about this,” you mumble to yourself. You knew you were sent to this place to find the source of its gloominess, but the farther you walked down the hallway, the tighter your stomach got.

“It was an orphanage.” Your heart sinks at the revelation, watching the old toys scattered on the floor, filled with dirt and dust. You could only imagine what happened to the kids.

The room is silent for a few moments before both of you and Suguru stand still. Almost on guard.

“Do you feel it?”

“Yeah, I do.” Whatever took over this place was huge. It didn’t necessarily feel like a strong or dangerous curse, but the way it was staring at you from down the hall had you standing in a fighting position.

Before you could even process the fact that you were dealing with that big curse, it charges at you—and fast.

It’s too fast for its size!

Mist engulfs the creature almost immediately, it would only serve as a distraction for a little bit before it would rage even more and decide to charge at you.

“Go hide, I’ll take care of it.” You watch as Suguru calls in two of his powerful curses, both enough to do the job. But you don’t want that.

You don’t want him to do the job on his own, or worse hide while he does everything. It wasn’t why you became a sorcerer, why you chose to even join the school. And so you stood still, grabbing one of the daggers attached to your thigh. You ignore Suguru’s cries telling you to step away from the huge curse.

“You’re gonna get killed if you don’t move!”

“Shut up!” The mist slowly morphs into something else—something Suguru has never seen you done before. It shapes itself into a beautiful scenery, one where flowers are blooming and the sun is shining and—he was hallucinating.

And so was the curse. The technique might’ve not been the most powerful, but it still managed to blind the curse for a few moments. You fill your sharp dagger with cursed energy before slicing it open in one swift motion. It’s messy and sloppy, and blood covers your clothes and the floor like a paint. You stand still and stare in awe at what you’ve just done.

I killed a huge curse on my own!

What you fail to see is the multiple cuts on your body, and how all color leaves your face as exhaustion washes over you. Shit, you were passing out.

The last thing you remember hearing is Suguru calling your name before everything goes silent.

--

Suguru is a mess. That was the only word that could accurately describe the state of the poor guy as he paced back and forth in front of your dorm room. No matter how much Gojo tried to convince him that you were okay, he refused to budge.

He was mad at you. You were so reckless back there, refused to listen to him when he asked you to move—he was filled with all kinds of emotions.

And so when Yaga finally gives him the green light to visit you, the first thing he does is scold you.

You’re sitting up in your bed with bandages wrapped around your body, and you look so tired. But despite all of that, you still manage to flash him a warm smile when he walks inside your room and closes the door behind him.

“Yaga told me I was passed out for two days, I hope I didn’t worry you—“

“What you did was reckless.” Suguru cuts you off, voice sharp and cold that you flinch. Your eyes stare at your lap, avoiding his because he was right. You were reckless, refused to listen to him and powered up your technique faster than your body could handle.

“I know,” you don’t apologize. A part of you wants to, but you were still going to stand your ground if he tried to guilt trip you about the situation.

“And I was very mad,”

“I know.”

It’s silent for a few moments, and Suguru takes in how despite the tears blurring your vision, you refuse to give in and apologize about anything.

“But that’s only because you scared me to death,” he hears you sniffle, and he sees you blink away the tears before staring at him in shock. Suguru takes a few steps towards you, and for a moment you see the hesitation in his action. He quickly brushes it off as he gently rests his hand on your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.

“You have no idea how terrifying that was.” Your heart starts racing at his words, and his touch left a tingling feeling behind when he pulled away to pat your head.

“I don’t want you to do that again, but I gotta admit,” he ruffles your hair, the scowl on his face morphing into a soft expression.

“That was really cool,” your smile is on your lips almost immediately at his words, and you take your hand and wrap it around his wrist. You pull his hand down and place it again on your face, a bold move that has the both of you slightly blushing.

“You think I’m cool?” your voice sounds sweet when you ask the question, and Suguru thinks he’s never heard you sound like this before but he nods anyway.

“The coolest.”

Neither of you move or say a thing after this, but the prolonged eye contact had the tall male leaning down a bit hesitantly at first, making sure you were okay with it. So when you pull him closer and place your lips on top of his, Suguru is convinced that it was the right thing to do.

The kiss is short and sweet. You pull away after a few seconds and the blush on your cheeks spreads across your entire face when he leans in to give you another kiss. Then another and another.

“Sugu—“

“Shhh, you look cute when you’re flustered.”

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

[erinwantstowrite]

if you're stuck on a chapter there are a few reasons:

-your set up to the scene you're writing is not working. go back and check it

-you are not in the right POV. think about who would be the most interesting or the most entertaining or the most informative in that scene, depending on what impact you want the scene to have

-you're at the beginning of the chapter and the words aren't coming to you even though you have it planned out already? the solution is simple: you don't like what you have planned out as much as you think you do. do not force it

-solution to a lot of problems comes from a single question I ask myself: Do I choose the kind option, or the mean option? (Your readers will eat up either one)

-You find the dialogue lacking? Act it out

-Your scene feels boring or something just "ain't right" but you can't tell what it is? Try making yourself feel the emotion you want your readers to feel. If you didn't cry while writing a scene meant to make your readers bawl their eyes out, then you might not have connected to your character as well as you wanted to. Put yourself in their shoes, pretend you ARE them.

(And afterwards, please practice putting yourself back in your own shoes and taking care of your mental health. Sometimes the fucked up stuff might get to you. Healthy minds create healthy lives, and in turn, you get to keep creating.)

-Your environment might be bothering you. Take a look around you and see what's nagging you. Is your workspace not clean? Are your notes out of order? A clean/orderly workspace can help you organize your thoughts or get you into a more productive mood. (Trust me, I get it, sometimes it's really hard to keep it tidy.)

-Try white/brown/pink noise. Try listening to music, or to videos that create background noise you feel most productive with.

-Jumping jacks. Squats. Stretches. Wiggle around your room. That one scene in High School Musical where Sharpay and Ryan are warming up. It sounds ridiculous, but this is good for you, your body, and your mind. Release pent up energy, get yourself awake and focused. If you aren't able to do this, try something silly to wake your brain up. Do some puzzles, sing some songs, etc.

-Most importantly:

Did you do your laundry? Did you get enough sun? Did you drink enough water? Did you eat enough today? Did you get your favorite snack? Did you smile? Did you run in your yard like you did as a kid? Did you laugh with your friend? Did you see the way their eyes crinkle when they smile at you? Did you play with your dog? Your cat? Did you look at the flowers in the field near your house? Did you meet someone new? Did you learn something you didn't before? Did you try something you were scared of? Did it go well? Did you enjoy being yourself? Did you explore the world today? Did you live? Did you love? Did you feel? Did you breathe, and relax, and feel that everything is gonna be okay?

It might seem insignificant, but we write from the heart, not just the mind. Let your story sit in the back of your mind when you truly feel stuck. Take care of yourself, try getting out of your head. Notice the details around you, commit them to memory. Your story will wait for you. It might take a day, or days, or a week, or a month, months, or a year or years. But the story sits with you and you'll be thinking about it without actually thinking about it. When you come to your story again, it will be happy that you've grown, no matter how big or small