#just this will tell you if you should bother reading it

[ckerouac]

So, this is all incredibly well intentioned. Yes, absolutely call your senator and tell them to vote No. That is so so important and can indeed change votes.

But as the person who in a previous life answered phones/email for a Congressman, please for the love of god do not call and read off 3-4 paragraphs of well intentioned whatnot. One, it’s not necessary, and Two, it doesn’t matter in the least.

What I’m doing as a staffer? Keeping tallies of how many folks call and whether they’re yes or no. THAT’S IT. I’m looking for trends. It doesn’t matter how well thought out and impassioned your argument is - the elected official isn’t hearing any of it, it’s only me, and I just put a tally mark in ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

You want to send a lengthy letter/email? Fine. Just bold the ‘please vote no’. But be aware the staffer also sees so much they pick up on copied language and it becomes spam to them. I would trash whole piles of postcards with copied text because, kind of like AI, if you can’t be bothered to write it, I can’t be bothered to read it.

But calls are better. Calls are SO MUCH BETTER. They can ignore phone lines and filled voice mail boxes. And really you just need a 30 sec script:

‘Hi, I’m NAME from CITY IN THE DISTRICT and I want OFFICIAL to vote NO on (SENATE VERSION OF HR 9495]. It threatens First Amendment protections and is dangerous government overreach. They should vote No. Thank you.’

And that’s it. Quick, easy, you’ve participated in the process.

HR9495 ON ITS WAY TO SENATE

Sadly the nonprofit orgs killer bill passed the house and is now on its way to the senate,endangering orgs such as ACLU,EFF,FTF, Internet Archive, AO3 ( @transformativeworks )and any fighting for human rights. Take some time to voice your disappointment at the reps who voted yes on this terrible bill,and thanks the rep that voted against it. However the next step will be to focus on the Senate, here you can find your senators: https://www.senate.gov/senators/ If your senator is a democrat, you can use this script: "I am calling to urge my representative to vote no on H.R. 9495 . This is a dangerous bill would give the Trump administration unilateral power to label any non-profit as terrorist supporting and shut it down without due process. I am calling on my representative to defend civil rights organizations and oppose this bill. Thank you.” You can also tell them you'll vote for them if they vote no on this bill. Anything goes. if your senator is republican/MAGA, use their own words against them :

"As your constituent, I urge you to vote NO on H.R. 9495. This bill poses a dangerous threat to the fundamental freedoms guaranteed by the First Amendment and must not pass the Senate. It grants any incoming administration unchecked authority to revoke the tax-exempt status of non-profit organizations without oversight or due process. Such government overreach is not what the Founding Fathers envisioned for our democracy. This bill undermines the principles of free speech and freedom of association, cornerstones of American liberty.

H.R. 9495 threatens to pave the way for political suppression, allowing the government to selectively target and shut down organizations based on ideological disagreements. This could affect any non-profit, including churches and conservative groups, as well as organizations that champion human rights and civil liberties. Regardless of political leanings, this bill sets a chilling precedent that no American patriot should support.

While situations relating to the hostages deserve careful attention, they can and should be addressed in a separate, narrowly tailored bill. H.R. 9495, however, is a broad, unconstitutional overreach that strikes at the heart of free speech and freedom. It is unpatriotic and incompatible with the values we hold dear as Americans.

I implore you to stand as a defender of liberty and uphold the rights of your constituents. Be a patriot, listen to the voice of the people, protect our God given right to free speech as Americans, and reject this dangerous legislation. Vote NO on H.R. 9495. Thank you, God Bless and God Bless America." (Taken from here )

You can also come join our server internet dedicated to fight against bad bills (and other bad internet bills such as KOSA) We organize call in days and gather ressources ! https://discord.gg/pwTSXZMxnH

[hmusunoo]

I really didn't want to do this but at this point I cannot stand behind and allow a group of people to berate and bully my friends for simply putting boundaries between them. There has been so much hate and disgusting things happening on Tumblr lately and I whole heartedly believe that these people have to do with the many hate accounts circulating, I have a ton of evidence to why these people are not good people and they genuinely need to be stopped.

Bullying is not cute, it's not funny, it's not you being "Real." no, you're just being plain fucking mean. I have evidence on only a few people for things they have said and done, but I think that their entire friend group is guilty. I am almost certain that they send each other anon hate asks so that they can respond being "real" and get more attention on themselves.

Firstly, where I think this all originated, now I am telling this in a way that I can explain as best as I can and from when I was there, I know that prior to this incident these people had an issue respecting my friend Mars's pronouns (something they continue to do) When mars set these boundaries with an account called Jaeyunsonly, Eva (jaeyunonlys) continued to do it. Eva would call mars "girl" and Mars simply asked for her to not call them that, Eva apologized but then continued to do it, so mars unfollowed and made the decision to no longer associate theirselves with Eva, which is completely understandable and should not warrant the hate that their receiving.

Now, coming from where myself and Kaia come in. Kaia and Eva would talk very little I think I was told that had only had a total of two conversations and weren't close at all but still Kaia was friendly with Eva. Eva joined my discord server and she was really nice and cool at first. One night when myself and Kaia were on Vc as we did a lot Eva joined, we were ok with that of course anyone was welcome to join the vc. Eva mainly kept on mute and again, we were fine with that Kaia and I carried along with our conversation as normal. That was until Eva muted and told us that her friend was getting "freaky" to our American voices.

It had made me and Kaia a bit uncomfortable but we tried to brush it aside. After that Kaia decided to make a new smau and Eva messaged her with a message that had made Kaia a bit uncomfortable.

and although we can admit that this was in good faith, it made Kaia a little uncomfortable seeing as Eva and her were not very good friends and we had gotten bad vibes since she had said that her friend was getting "freaky from our voices" Kaia messaged Eva back, very respectfully to say that she wasn't comfortable with her unsolicited advice.

This was written very respectfully and after that Kaia was no longer interested in being Eva's friend. Which she HAS THE RIGHT TO. This is when the hateful messages started and the little indirects. We even shortly realized that a weird, ableist and quite frankly racist message that came into my inbox a while back was none other then Eva as well only further us not wanting to be associated with her.

Read it and weep, this is such a weird thing to say. There are ot7 briize of every race, nationality and everything why feel the need to attack one over the other and to also call them mentally challenged?? Actually insane, not even to mention the P DIDDY JOKES SHES MADE. Like what ? and Honeybelle, let me even get into honeybelle. This was her response to Eva's pdidy jokes.

was it "satire" to p diddy's victims honeybelle? was it just a "joke" to them. Like be so for real this is so disgusting, and saying it was just SATIRE. come on where is the accountability?

but I think its obvious that nothing bothers honeybelle seeing as she thinks its ok to write smut that includes minors even if theyre not included in the actual sexual acts.

Like what?? Here's the story too btw you be the judge, she also mentioned and later deleted that the reader was high school but a cam girl?? read these and ket me know exactly what the fuck you think.

"I realize that Riki is still a kid but im too lazy to re edit" what. speaks for itself.

She even deleted a sentence I very much remember where jay says to reader that "she is just a hole for Riki to fuck." like what?? that's sick. Not even to mention that Honeybelle's work is very very similar to Mars...anyways.

Something that mars tried to handle in private and was very respectful about, they use this as another thing to attack mars and Kaia about.

you would count this as resolved right? but they just cant seem to let it go. As they relentlessly continue to bully Kaia and mars over it. Kaia and mars have done nothing but set boundaries and theyre getting attacked for it.

In comes virtualhoon and all her friends or moots idk. And although Virtualhoon has a right to say whatever she wants on her account sure, she should not be allowed to BULLY people. You aren't being "real" you're being a mean girl. Then you say you want everyone out of your business but continue to make posts and respond to anons talking about the situations and lets me real, what are the chances that all this friend group is sending the anons to further the issue. Mars and Kaia have not spoken about it but when they do they get berated (I have further screenshots of this.)

but also the AAV...but anyways.

Bullies. bullies. bullies.

fast forward to today where mars was ONCE AGAIN, misgendered and Kaia came to their defense and this is their response.

like y'all think talking to people like this is ok?? no wtf. This is disgusting and if you think this kind of behavior is OK? you're just as bad. Also, isn't the way these people talk very very familiar to all these hate accounts floating around and if they can talk about people this bluntly then what do you think they say behind an ALT. I dont have solid proof of that but come on, we're not stupid.

also... come on this is so racist.

This is only scratching of what have done, if you go to virtualhoon's profile you can see countless times that she has attacked Kaia unprovoked. This is the act of bullies, i'm sick of the negativity on Tumblr but I don't care this has to be said.

@heeambi, @chobunz , @leeechin , @pshbites , @jaysng , @suneng

@coqhee , , @st1llm0nster , @nshmuras , @won4kiss , @wonsdoll , @jaemna , @vveebee ee , @lunesdesire e , @lvnglysunoo oo ,

just tagging moots for awareness, not saying you’re involved.

[albertstrustie]

Another Simon/Ghost fanfic piece. Hope you like it. A bit of a long read.

—

Your heels clacked against the cement stairs of the porch, the sound bouncing off into the clear night. You didn’t even wait for the Escalade to stop completely before flinging the door open and storming out. Behind you, Simon didn’t bother turning off the headlights or rolling up the windows—he threw the car into park and dashed after you. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. If you did, who knows what else you’d do.

His footsteps pounded against the ground behind you, matching his labored breathing as you fumbled with the keys at the front door. Your hands trembled—not just with anger but fear. You’d never seen Simon this furious. The sharp scrape of metal finally met the lock, and you twisted it just as his heavy steps reached the porch.

You shoved the door open and bolted inside, slamming it behind you. The solid thud should’ve been a reprieve, but it wasn’t. His broad arm shot through the gap, wedging the door open with infuriating ease. The force jarred you, but you didn’t look back. You were already sprinting up the stairs, your heart racing faster than your feet as his relentless pursuit followed.

The bedroom door slammed shut an instant before his footsteps thundered up the staircase. It burst open just as violently, the wood splintering against the wall. You tried not to flinch. You stayed rooted in front of the dressing table, staring into the mirror as your chest heaved.

There he was, reflected back at you—Ghost. Sweaty, flushed, chest heaving with frustration. The green irises you knew so well were nearly black, like a storm rolling over an open field, swallowing every trace of light. He’d never been in your room before. The sight of him here, invading your most intimate space, felt like a violation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to leave. Not now when he looked like he was about to rip you to shreds.

He rounded the bed in three swift strides, gripping your arm and yanking you around to face him. “What the hell was that?”

You shoved at his face, a desperate, reckless attempt to create space between you. It was bold—perhaps foolish—but anything less would have been futile against his unyielding strength. His grip didn’t waver, though a low, menacing growl rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating through the air like a warning.

For a tense, electric moment, you thought he wouldn’t let go, that his hold on you would tighten until you broke. But then, with a sharp exhale, his grip loosened, and his hands fell to his sides. He took a step back, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he dragged air into his lungs. The distance between you should have felt like a victory, but all you felt was an aching void.

The fight drained from you, leaving behind only exhaustion. Nothing about tonight made sense—not the mission, not Simon, and definitely not the decision you’d made.

That decision being the kiss.

The memory burned hot, searing through you like a brand. Kissing your fake bodyguard in the middle of an undercover operation wasn’t just careless; it was insane. But watching that spoiled socialite touch him—leaning in too close, her ruby, plump lips brushing his ear as she whispered—had been unbearable. And the way Simon smiled back at her, charming and unreadable, made you snap.

Simon? Smiling? Absolutely not.

You didn’t care if it was part of the mission.

You didn’t care that you’d made a scene. All you cared about was erasing that smile and replacing it with something real. And in the moment, the only thing you could think to do was grab his face and kiss him like your life depended on it.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, he kissed you back. But then, it came to an end, just as quickly as it began. So you ran towards the exit, shaken up and utterly mortified.

Now, in the suffocating silence of your bedroom, there was no escape and Simon was a storm barely contained, his body vibrating with restrained anger. But you knew, he wanted that kiss just as much as you did; you could see it right now, the way his chest heaved and his fists clenched at his sides as if to restrain himself from touching you.

His whole body was taut, strung tight like a bow. And the adrenaline coursing through you, made you feel like a live wire, sparking and crackling with need. “Answer me!” he bellowed, his voice thunderous. “Why in the fuck would you—”

Something knocked the sense put of you again and you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him again, pouring every ounce of anger, frustration, and longing into it. There was no hesitation this time. Simon’s hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his mouth claimed yours, hard and hungry.

His lips were hot, insistent, and demanding, a perfect mirror of the fire burning in your chest. He kissed you like he wanted to devour you, and you let him, your hands tangling in his hair as you backed toward the bed. When your knees hit the edge, you fell, but Simon caught himself, landing on his palms above you.

He hovered for a moment, staring down at you, his pupils blown wide and his breath ragged. You thought he might stop—that the realization of what was happening would bring him back to his senses. But then his mouth was on yours again, urgent and consuming, and every coherent thought fled.

You arched into him, your dress riding up your thighs as his weight pressed you into the mattress. His hands roamed over your body, rough and searching, tracing every curve like he was committing you to memory. When his hips ground against yours, the hard line of his cock pressing into your core, you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“Simon,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. His mouth moved to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. You tilted your head back, giving him access, your fingers threading through his hair as a low moan escaped your lips.

It was too much, but not nearly enough.

Your legs wrapped around his hips tighter, locking him in place, and your arms clutched him even tighter, anchoring yourself to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from unraveling. You didn’t care about the way his heavy weight pressed you into the mattress, the way his fingers gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise. You didn’t care about the small gasps escaping your lips every time he ground against you, or the burning heat building between your bodies.

You couldn’t care—not when he felt like this.

One of his hands slid from your hip to your chest, his palm sweeping over the curve of your breast. He cupped it through your dress, his thumb brushing over the peak before squeezing. A deep groan tore from his throat as he pulled back, staring at you with an expression that bordered on disbelief, as if he couldn’t fathom that this moment was real.

Then, with a feral growl, he grabbed the front of your dress and ripped it open. The sound of tearing fabric filled the room, leaving you breathless and exposed, your lace bra bared to him. Maybe another time you would’ve teased that he could’ve simply pulled down the absurdly expensive dress, but now was definitely not the time.

The sharp sound of the fabric tearing made your heart stutter, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. But it wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t regret. It was everything—every emotion you couldn’t name threatening to spill over. Maybe you too couldn’t believe this was happening.

You barely noticed his fingers deftly working at the clasp of your bra, too caught in the way he looked at you, like a starving man about to devour his first ever meal. By the time you realized it, the bra was already unhooked, sliding from your body before being tossed carelessly to the floor.

His mouth found your nipple, sucking hard as his tongue swirled over the sensitive peak. The sharp jolt of pleasure tore through you, and you cried out, your back arching as heat coursed through your veins.

It felt like you were being touched for the first time, as if virginity had been restored and this was your initiation. Every nerve in your body was alive, your skin burning beneath his touch. His tongue scorched, his fingers left electric trails wherever they wandered. You were ablaze, consumed entirely by him.

He shifted to your other breast, dragging his tongue in a slow, teasing stripe along the underside before sucking the other nipple into his mouth. His hands gripped your waist with bruising intensity, anchoring you in place as his hips ground against yours. Words dissolved on your tongue, replaced by gasps and moans that spilled from your lips, raw and unrestrained.

For once, there was no mask, no performance—only you, stripped bare in every sense of the word. It had never been like this before, it’s never been this overwhelming. Your body wasn’t yours anymore; it was his, and in this moment, the world narrowed down to Simon.

One hand slid lower, cupping your pussy, a groan rumbling from his chest. "You're so fucking wet," he muttered against your breast, his voice rough and gravelly.

His fingers pressed against your soaked panties, the damp fabric only amplifying the friction as he rubbed slow circles over your throbbing core. The sensation made you want to cry out and were about to ground yourself against him—but he didn’t give you the chance.

With a sharp pull, he tore away the rest of your ruined fabric of your dress, stripping the first barrier from your skin. The shredded remnants joined the growing pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

His eyes dropped to your panties, a pathetic scrap of lace that barely concealed anything. His breathing stumbled and he grabbed them and ripped them clean off with a swift, brutal tug. The motion lifted your hips off the bed before your back fell against the mattress once more, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

You should have felt exposed, vulnerable—but instead, you were nothing but raw, aching need. Seeing his eyes darken as he took in every inch of you, his gaze hungry and possessive, only made you feel more alive. You couldn’t be happier to be rid of those scraps of fabric, nude and aching beneath him, ready for whatever came next.

A shiver ran down your spine, a chill spreading over your overheated skin as his hands roamed over your bare ass and thighs. He was so strong, his hands so sure and confident. You wondered if this was simply who he was—if he’s always been this commanding, this powerful—or if it was just you, the way your body reacted to him, helpless against the pull.

A small part of you tried to rationalize it, telling yourself it was proximity, nothing more. Working with him, being forced into close contact and moments of manufactured intimacy for the sake of the mission—surely that was why you felt this way. Why your pulse raced at his touch.

But deep down, you knew that was a lie.

This wasn’t just circumstance. From the very first day, when he’d drawled, “Simon Riley” in that thick Mancunian accent, your thighs had clenched, and a heat you couldn’t ignore had bloomed inside you. You’d wondered then—against all reason—what he looked like naked, what it would feel like to have those strong, capable hands on your body.

And now you knew.

Your head was a muddle of lust and want and for a brief moment, a flicker of shame tried to surface. Simon had never seen you like this; he hadn’t even seen you in a bikini—but it vanished the second his mouth descended on you. His tongue slid through your folds, burying itself in your heat, and all you could think about was how good he made you feel.

Nothing else mattered. Not the mission, not your pride, not the fact that this was Simon. All that existed was the relentless pleasure, the way his tongue moved against you, the way he made you burn hotter and brighter than you ever thought possible.

You were lost in a haze of ecstasy, your hands gripping his hair and shoulders as if they were the only things tethering you to reality. His mouth worked relentlessly, driving you closer and closer to the edge. When he groaned against your clit, the vibrations shot through your body, making you writhe beneath him.

There was a ferocity in the way he touched you, a hunger that bordered on desperation. This wasn’t his first time doing this—you weren’t naive enough to think otherwise—but the thought barely registered amidst the tidal wave of pleasure crashing through you. Any pang of jealousy or anger was drowned out by the sobs of ecstasy spilling from your lips.

His tongue flicked your clit with quick, precise strokes, each one sending a fresh jolt of electricity through your core. Your body bowed, and you gasped as he slid a finger into your tight heat, the sudden fill making your walls flutter around him.

He moved with purpose, his finger curling to find that spot deep inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. His tongue never faltered, his rhythm relentless as he coaxed you higher.

When he added another finger, the stretch was overwhelming, teetering on the edge of too much and not enough all at once. You bucked against him, desperate to take him deeper, to feel more, but he growled—a low warning that sent a thrill through you. His free hand stayed flat against your abdomen, holding you firmly in place.

Your orgasm hit you like a lightning strike. It ripped through you, white-hot and paralysing, leaving your body trembling and your pussy clenching around his fingers. Your cries filled the room as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you utterly undone.

But he didn’t give you time to recover. Before you could even catch your breath, he had you on all fours, his strong hand wrapping around your hair as he positioned himself behind you.

You felt him line up, the thick head of his cock brushing against your dripping, throbbing cunt. You were desperate for him, aching to feel him stretch you, fill you, bury himself so deeply inside you that there would be no space left between you.

His grip on your untamed curls tightened, his breathing heavy and uneven as he held himself steady. You braced yourself for that blinding pain right before the pleasure you knew only him could probably give you.

But then his grip on you loosened, and his fingers came around to brush against your cheek in the softest, most unexpected caress. The tenderness of the gesture sent a jolt through you, stealing your breath and making your heart clench.

“I... don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice rough but laced with a vulnerability that cut through the haze of desire. It was as though the shame you tried so hard to bury was something he could see, something he couldn’t ignore.

You tipped your forehead into your forearms, overwhelmed by the quiet sincerity in his words and the unspoken emotions behind them. Your heart swelled, the feeling both exhilarating and terrifying, but the ache inside you demanded more.

“Please!” you choked out, slamming your palm onto the mattress in desperation. “Please, Simon. Fuck me. I need you!” Your shoulders shook with sobs, your voice thick with a pathetic need you could no longer hide.

A beat passed—a moment stretched taut with anticipation—and then he drove into you. One powerful thrust and his cock stretched you, filled you so perfectly, so completely, that the breath was punched from your lungs and you jolted forward, burying your face in the pillows.

Your body welcomed him eagerly, your walls clamped around his thick length as they adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. The scream that tore from your throat was muffled by the fluff of the pillows, but it couldn’t drown out his groan as you pushed back and buried him to the hilt.

The pressure was maddening, the fullness dizzying. Rocking back against him, you met his thrusts, your movements frantic and unrestrained. His fingers dug into your hips with bruising force, holding you steady as he matched your pace.

The room was heavy with the scent of sex, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin filling the air alongside the creak and squeak of the bed frame straining beneath you. His chest brushed against your back as he leaned down, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, his voice dark and laced with hunger. “Me, fucking you like this?”

Words failed you, dissolving into desperate, incoherent whimpers as his pace increased and his palms kneaded your breasts. His cock pistoned in and out of you, the friction stoking the fire inside you until it consumed everything else. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, driving you mad with the sheer intensity of it all.

Like everything between you two, this felt like a challenge—a battle of wills wrapped in pleasure. You knew it was his competitive streak, the need to make you come faster, harder than before. There was no question he would win, but some part of you still wanted to hold out, to last just a little longer than the first shattering orgasm he pulled from you.

But Simon didn’t make it easy.

He fucked you with a savage, unrelenting intensity, his cock hitting every spongy spot inside you. His hips slammed against your ass, his hands gripping you so firmly it felt like his touch had become a part of you, like there was no line where his skin ended and yours began.

You were a mess—sweaty, writhing, utterly undone by his body. Your walls clenched, squeezing him so tight it bordered on painful. But the sting only added to the pleasure, making you feel like you were coming apart at the seams.

You tried to push back against the inevitable, to delay the explosion building inside you, but it was useless. He was everywhere—in you, around you, overwhelming you with his presence until there was no escape. The pressure inside you reached a breaking point, unbearable yet exquisite, until it finally snapped.

The tidal wave of pleasure crashed over you, drowning you in its force, washing away every shred of control. You cried out, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, a plea, a desperate, breathless surrender.

In a second, Simon reduced you to nothing more than trembling limbs and shaky breaths, a heap of bone and flesh barely clinging to coherence. If his arm hadn’t wrapped securely around your middle, you would have collapsed into the sheets, maybe even rolled off the bed entirely.

His hold steadied you, grounding you as he continued to thrust into your overstimulated, quivering cunt. Your nails clawed at the sheets beneath you, twisting the fabric in your grip as the waves of ecstasy refused to ebb.

“There you go, baby. That’s it,” he murmured, his voice husky and thick with satisfaction.

Oh, how you wish you could say something snarky right now! But you couldn’t. Not when your legs shook uncontrollably, your heart raced like it might burst, and your lungs burned for air.

All you could focus on was him—the man who had infuriated and fascinated you in equal measure. The man you’d secretly wanted all along, even when you were trading sharp insults and cold glares. Every mission, every conversation, every moment of tension between you had led to this.

To this blinding flash of euphoria that obliterated your vision, to this moment where your mind went completely blank. For a brief, exquisite second, it felt like you’d died and been reborn, baptized in the overwhelming ecstasy that coursed through your veins.

As your vision returned and the last waves of pleasure ebbed, Simon pulled out, leaving you empty and aching. The absence was startling, a void you felt deep in your core. His hands gripped your hips gently, flipping you onto your back as if you weighed nothing.

Before you could figure out what was happening, his lips were on yours, crashing into you with a wild, ferocious passion, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. His hands interlocked with yours above your head and his cock found its home again, sliding into your slick heat as if he’d been moulded just for you.

And if you were being honest with yourself, he probably was made for you.

Because up until now, sex was nothing but something transactional, a means to an end. It had never felt like this. Like the whole world was spinning out of control, and the only thing keeping you from falling apart was his touch, his lips, his body. Like you would die if he stopped kissing you, if his breath stopped caressing your skin.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he pushed into you again. His thrusts were slower this time, deep and measured, as if he was savouring every second. His hands came down to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your damp cheeks softly, revealing a side of Simon you never imagined you’d witness.

But here he was. Here you two were. Naked, unguarded, lost in the depths of something far more dangerous than lust. And you wanted it. You needed it, damn it.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breaths coming in heavy, ragged pants. The space between you all but vanished, and you stared into his eyes, your heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears. His gaze pinned you in place—intense as ever, but now tinged with a tenderness that shattered whatever fragile wall you’d been clinging to.

The dam broke, and the tears fell freely.

Simon leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth in a feather-light kiss that travelled all across your face. The gesture was so gentle, so intentional, it nearly undid you all over again.

His hips faltered, his rhythm stumbling, and then he was gathering you into his arms. He pressed himself tightly against you, his weight grounding you in a way that felt like safety and surrender all at once. His face buried in the crook of your neck, his breaths hot and uneven against your skin.

You clung to him, your bodies entwined so completely that you wondered how you’d ever untangle yourself. Your fingers threaded through his damp tendrils as he began to let go. “Baby…” he grunted, his voice low and strained—a question for permission.

“I’m on the pill,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “Do it. Please.”

A guttural groan rumbled through his chest, and his hips snapped into yours, his rhythm quickening with a newfound urgency. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your cries against his slick skin. He smelled of salt and sweat, musk and wind, a scent that reminded you of the ocean crashing against the shore.

Then, all at once, he shattered. His body stiffened, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he spilled himself, marking you as his. Your name fell from his lips in a broken mantra, each syllable reverberating through your very soul. You realized, in that moment, how beautiful your name sounded when it came from him.

His weight collapsed onto you, his chest rising and falling against yours as he fought to catch his breath. His lips brushed the hollow of your throat in a lingering caress, and you ran your fingers through his hair, pressing your lips to his damp forehead. He nuzzled into your neck, the scratch of his beard sending shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped your lips.

A quiet contentment settled over you, the silence heavy with meaning. There was nothing to say, nothing to explain. You simply lay there, wrapped in each other, your bodies tangled like you belonged this way.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, breaking the stillness.

He groaned, shifting the both of you under the sheets, his strength effortless as he moved. When he slipped out of you in the process, you felt a pang of loss, but it was quickly replaced by the warm, comforting weight of his arms wrapping around you. He pulled you into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Don’t be,” he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion and sincerity. “It was the best fuck-up you’ve ever done.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, muffled against his chest. He chuckled softly in return, the vibrations soothing in their intimacy. His hand traced lazy patterns down your spine, anchoring you to him.

“Together,” he murmured, his voice dipping as sleep began to claim him.

You wanted to ask what he meant, but before you could, he repeated it, this time more assured. “We’re together.”

And in those two words, you understood everything.

“Together,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering shut as his warmth enveloped you.

Safe in his arms, you let sleep pull you under, carrying you into a dreamless, contented oblivion.

[cuntdevil]

★ NEVER BE ENOUGH !

the fan fiction he writes for you will never be enough, and neither is the week he's been gifted to meet you. it will never be enough until he has you in his hold.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, kamo choso, dark content & sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact & 17k words !

╰┈➤ fanboy/fan fic writer!kamo choso & actress!reader, choso has a tumblr account, parasocial relationship, obsessive!kamo choso, stalking, nonconsensual photo taking, mentions of masturbation, sexual fantasies, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie, etc.

( author's note. ) i enjoyed writing this piece so much, even though i was a bit nervy !! i hope you lot enjoy as well !! much love, baebies. mwah !

They say people that write fan fiction are weird. That they’re stuck in a world that will never become a reality. That they’re obsessed with fiction instead of focusing on the authentic. And, in a way, it’s true. They have an imagination that brings them to wonders and they hope to escape the real world. They spend hours on end trying to perfect scenes, hyper-fixating on one specific idea that came to them at the whee hours in the middle of the night that they just had to bring to life to alleviate the constant badgering inside of their mind. They give people a gift, something free to read in their spare time, for nothing in exchange except for a like, reblog and a comment to share their feelings. 

Choso, he doesn’t feel ashamed when he admits that he indulges in fan fiction to his friends. Why should he? It is, after all, a form of creativity. However, the teasing becomes annoying and it’s all they can talk about for weeks on end, so instead, he keeps it to himself because he just can’t be bothered. But, to say he’s ashamed? No, that’s something he’ll never be. 

Why should he be when he can fabricate an entire universe inside of his mind? Why should he be when he can beckon thousands of people to read his work and garner a following that tells him that he’s not alone — that there are people who enjoy his work and what he can create with the right pairings of words and phrases? Why should he be when he has mutuals that write alongside him, doing what they love to do?

Call him an extremist all they want, but if other men can create their dream characters in their fantasy footballs and have entire plotlines to how they came to the top, what’s so different from it? He should be able to love something so much that he needed to create his own world(s) of it. Even if they all revolve around you. 

If anyone were to scroll through his masterlists, they'd see that over one hundred of them had your name in it. Didn’t matter if it was a specific character you played or if it revolved around the real you, it was a consistent list that let his readers know that he was irrevocably in love with you. It was concerning until they saw a different name not tied down to you, clicking on the link as their previous remarks were quickly forgotten. 

He had first come to know of you through a sit-com, Big House. A child actress with the cutest of eyes. You had called all the attention on you as viewers loved you the moment you were introduced, rating going higher and the television series going for a total of eight seasons. It was a long-running show during the time that it ended, but Choso soon learned that all the episodes he had been watching at the time were reruns and weren’t current. It had disappointed him as he, too, saw your appeal to the mass.

He had next seen you on another show aimed for kids and families, once again, compiling high ratings for television companies as you had many side projects of modeling, acting in different franchises, and even dabbling in a short-term music career (It was an inside joke to fandom that your singing career remains unmentioned). However, Choso didn’t feel inclined to write until you starred in Us Against the World. 

For the first time, you were the main star of the show, finally showing the world your true capabilities and leaving everyone enamored by your performance. It worked especially well in your favor as previously, you were tied to a huge controversy that tarnished your name, being labeled as Hollywood’s Supreme Diva, after freshly turning eighteen and paparazzi weren’t so nice. 

The countdown to your eighteenth birthday had been a disaster as preying men had been looking forward to the big one-eight and the media entertained it— sexualizing your transition from child to adulthood. You had already started rebelling at sixteen, photo-ops have proof of you smoking and participating in underage drinking. Mothers ridiculed you, fathers fantasized about you. It was so disgusting in Choso’s eyes, his thick pieces on Tumblr being proof of it.

When the day had come and you wanted to celebrate despite the media constantly being up your ass, paparazzi were bombarding you the moment you slipped outside of a Casino, reaching for you in attempts to ask you invading questions. You had your bodyguards with you, but one managed to sneak through the cracks, reaching straight for your breasts. There were two infamous shots taken back then— one of you being groped and the next one you punching said paparazzi square in the jaw. 

Your father made you take self-defense classes, and you knew you could throw a punch. It was evident on the sleazy man’s face that you could, too, but in efforts to keep his dignity intact. He spit out the blood and said, “You punch like a little bitch!”

That was the title of the articles that came out the very next day, alongside (Your Name) has become the Supreme Diva of Hollywood. You seemed to have vanished after that night as people went on and on about your disrespectful nature, like you should’ve just let the man grope you. And people didn’t ignore your absence for a while, further articles being published and claiming that you were embarrassed about the way you lashed out. 

You had stayed away from the media for two to three years until you were offered a role to play the lead in a zombie television show called Us Against the World. The director had contacted you herself, explaining who she saw you as, Beatrice Martin, and how she thought you were well suited for the character, seeing everything that you went through. You had gotten so comfortable with the silence and seclusion from the world of fame that you were about to say no, but instead, your mouth had said “yes” and further promised that you were willing to at least audition for the role. 

Choso had set a reminder on his calendars of when the show would first be televised, locking himself up in the room with food and drinks as he was perched on his bed. The opening scene began with you and from that moment forth, he was hooked on the television show and you. Shortly afterwards, he had found himself immersed into the world of fandom, learning more about it and that people wrote fics based on the characters and different forms of media they enjoyed. From Wattpad to Quotev to Fanfiction.net, Choso indulged in many websites and apps. However, he felt a calling when he found Tumblr— the shitty site holding him bound by his arms and legs— the url handle kamoso becoming an account that many people look forward to clicking. 

—

You thought you were done with acting. You wanted to be, but now that you’re back under the limelight and more in control about your image, you manage to endure the brunt of the lifestyle. The worst has passed, after all. 

You’ve fallen back in love with the art of being someone else, finding comfort in the fake as you flash faux smiles and scream in agony on the camera as your significant other on screen gets ripped apart by the undead, fake blood pouring from the contraption connected to the fake arm. However, under the circumstances you’re under, you can’t stop and mourn, calling more attention to yourself under the herd of zombies hurdling your way. You have to be selfish and think for yourself, trying not to look back at the hungry mob nibbling on your dying lover. 

You run until the scene is called to a close, halting your movements as you pant. Hands landing on your knees as you hunch over and throw your head back. And when your co-star, Geto Suguru, touches your shoulder, you immediately reach to hug him, groaning as you tighten your hold around him and him doing the same. Everyone crowds together in this moment of goodbye because outside of flashbacks and cameos, this will be the last of consistently seeing him. 

And while this is all fake, some of it feels real as you will mourn the loss of another consistent cast member, soon to be replaced by someone else come episodes or seasons later. However, you’ll enjoy the video essays and the threads online people will create the moment the episode will drop— crazy conspiracy theories being said as fans stay completely in denial to the loss of another founding character. Or, people lowkey glad that they’re gone, sharing their thoughts on why they hated Geto’s character. Whatever it will be, you’ll use some of your spare time to giggle at it and message him later on that day. 

Because, outside of the bad that has come out of achieving your dreams, you really have come to enjoy the good that comes out of it. Like the contest that you’re participating in, the television company, ABC Channel, you’re currently working under partnering with ‘The Aspiring’ to host a contest, inviting a few fans to meet with any of the participating cast members of whatever show under ABC for a week. As explained to you, the contestants will submit an entry following the prompt: If you were to rewrite one episode, which one would it be, and why? 

You had found the prompt interesting when the news of a contest was announced during one of the meetings when Us Against the World was ready to start filming for the new season, opting yourself to be one of the stars who were willing to participate. It had brought a lot of shocked faces as you haven’t really shown interest in much fan interactions minus occasional hellos you’d give when someone recognized you. You had kept yourself reserved much to the media’s dismay as they were quick to write off that you had returned back to your old ways, but genuine fans were always quick to defend you, seeing you as what you are— human. Nonetheless, you received support from your fellow co-stars and staff, happy that you’re opening yourself up a bit more. 

The contest has yet to be announced, but you’re anticipating it as you also had the chance to be involved in who won for your show. It would be an opening of opportunities for the winner, a possible chance to network if they had true potential. You were always grateful that someone saw yours and you wanted to be the next person to shine the light onto someone else. You could hear your father’s voice inside your head at times, questioning you for your naivety and how you could take a risk like this. You can hear the deep, angered grumble of his voice chastising you. “How can you be so stupid? Why would you take a chance like this?”

Once upon a time, you’d let his every word dictate you. You hadn’t much choice as he was your parent and you were a minor, but you let his words become your Bible and had lost yourself along the way. While you had deterred yourself away for a while— hence the columns of you drinking and smoking— you had always let him put his foot on your neck in deciding who you were to be otherwise. It got worse when you had turned eighteen and you had let him put a halt in your acting career, wanting you out of the limelight for good. You had wanted a break, but never wanted to detach yourself entirely. When Us Against the World was offered to you, you and your father had a huge falling out about it and you haven’t seen him since. 

He’s called, and you have, but neither of you have made the effort to see one another. And, honestly? You like it that way. You want to shine without the moon standing in your way. Everyday, you’re a little closer to doing just so. 

—

theaspiring and abchannel 

Want to meet one of your favorite stars? You’re just in luck! The Aspiring and ABC are collaborating together to give dedicated fans a chance to spend a week with one of their favorite stars. All you have to answer is: If you were to rewrite one episode from your favorite ABC series, which would it be, and why? 

Put your imagination to use as we’re accepting a variety of submissions. However, please adhere to our rules and guidelines when submitting. Click the link below for more information and faqs. We can’t wait to see your submission!

www.theaspiring.com/abc-x-the-aspiring-contest 

Choso’s heart begins to race, reading the post caption, checking the account legitimacy only to see that both accounts are verified. When he clicks on the hyperlink, it sends him straight to the official website. He has to pinch himself in order to convince his mind that this is real— that this opportunity is an actuality and there’s a possibility that he can win.

He throws his phone at the far corner of the bed, too close to the edge but never falling. On his nightstand, he immediately reaches for his laptop, an idea already in mind as he spends the rest of the day writing. He typically finds himself like this when he writes, caged up inside of his bedroom as neglecting his health in order to finish a fic. The many times he had to tell himself that this wasn’t serious— fan fiction isn’t serious— and that he shouldn’t ruin his health because of it. However, he just gets so captivated by it, putting all of his focus on it and not eating or drinking or showering the entire day. His fingers would only move as his eyes got dry from looking at the screen for hours on end, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop as his mind would only go and go and go. If he didn’t get it down now, he was in fear that all of his ideas would evaporate in that very moment and they’d get lost in the abyss of forgotten epiphanies. 

Right now is the same as the last time he looked at the clock, it was only ten in the morning. When he’s finally done, it’s eight at night and the word count reads over 20k words long. He’s developed a migraine by now, finally shutting the laptop as the document automatically saves. The moment his feet hit the floor, it tingles and he has to limp his way to his bedroom door. He rolls his head back, his vision getting funny as he opens the door. He’s starting to feel the quick repercussions of his actions as his stomach growls and he starts feeling nauseous. He has to force himself to muster up the strength, fixing a small bowl of oatmeal to take away the pain and jump in the shower right after. 

The heat of the water is relaxing, the piping hot touch cracking every aching muscle in his body as he relaxes. The eucalyptus body wash infiltrates the steamy air, its strong scent lulling him to sleep that he nearly slips and calls it quits. Somewhere along the way, the clip holding his hair up has slipped out, his hair falling in front of his face haphazardly. The white towel wrapped around his waist threatens to fall as he takes careful steps, excess water dripping in his path. In the comfort of his bedroom once again, he pulls on a baggy t-shirt and pajama pants as he jumps back into bed. His laptop lays next to him as he’s momentarily coaxed to get back on it, but the exhaustion running rampant through him takes control and knocks him out before he could truly contemplate what was happening. 

The next day, when he’s wide awake, he works on the document again. He proofreads it, correcting all of his mistakes and making sure that everything makes sense. The document name, Never Be Enough. He had always wanted to write a fix-it fic for one of the most tragic episodes in the entire series, where your character— Beatrice— had finally reunited with your father after being departed for months because of the apocalypse. It was the main plot to the series for majority of the time as every time that you were close, some heavy obstacle would fall into place, distancing the both of you before either of you knew. It aggravated him, the writing of the show that he remembered wanting to drop it at some point. However, he braved it through. 

When the episode finally came where Beatrice was finally reunited with her dad, he was ripped away from her. Literally torn apart from her in a stampede of zombies that managed to make it through the barricade surrounding the small colony of survivors. Your band of friends that helped you get there had to get you away as you watched in pain, the last part of your old life all gone. The episode was called Never Be Enough, and gosh, while he hated it, it fit so perfectly. Because no matter how much you have fought to get there, it all felt like it was never enough. Choso had to question if it was his emotions that made him believe that the show writers were just crappy at their job and if in actuality, they were geniuses. 

After the season was left on that cliffhanger, it made Choso go into a silent rage inside of his mind as he could only think about how it ended and the possibility of your character arc being ruined before it even got the chance to get better. He had written some possibilities of a better ending, but never decided on it until yesterday. Twenty thousand words he had to look over, and if he’s being honest with himself, it still doesn’t feel like enough. But while there wasn’t a word limit of written entries for the contest, he didn’t want to test said limits and kept most of the piece where it was at. When he was finished, he formatted the first page how it was asked of him.

Alternative Ending to Us Against the World, Season Two: Episode 11

Never Be Enough by Kamo Choso.

Top Three Picks for 1 Week Celebrity Meet: Your Name, Geto Suguru, and Nobara Kugisaki.

He wrote a small page on why he thought the episode needed to be written before he transitioned onto the work itself, making sure that it flowed together before overlooking the entire document again. When he was finally satisfied, he downloaded the document— Never_Be_Enough_KCH.docx— and logged into his account for The Aspiring. He hated this feeling, this piercing pressure of anxiety in his chest. It happened whenever he posted a new fic and now it was happening with this, too, but this? This was much worse.

He felt like he could barely breathe, slowly dragging the file with his cursor and watching it load. When he read 100%, he hovered over the ‘Submit’ button and squirmed in his gaming chair, the seat swiveling as he turned from side to side. Closing his eyes, he just had to do it. The sound of the right click echoing through the room before he opened his eyes again and watched the screen load. Then, virtual confetti blowing across the screen as ‘Successful!’ reads across the laptop. He lets out the breath he was holding, his reddened face losing its color as he shuts the screen and jumps onto his bed. 

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he clicks open the Tumblr app, opening up a new post page and types out: ‘I think I just made the worst mistake yet. I’ll tell you guys later if I’m a fool or not.’

—

You never realized how reviewing competition submission could be so tiring. Days and days of watching, viewing and reading what people had to say. While it had been fun at the beginning, it quickly became tedious and exhausting after day three. From your checklist, you marked off those you found no interest in and checked off people who had lots of potential.

Each submission was sorted by the contestants’ top choices, where you seemed to have the majority of it for Us Against the World. Thankfully, any submission that had shown red flags were immediately removed before your viewing, but it was still a heavy amount that you had to go through. Your body ached and your vision started to blur as you read over another paragraph before groaning. You shut your phone screen off and drop the device right next to you on the couch and get up. 

When you stood up, you stretched and sauntered straight to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a tupperware of leftovers. When you look at the time, it’s only twelve in the afternoon. A yawn draws from your lips, eyes squinting shut as the hum of the microwave sounds in the small luxury apartment. You stretch once more, arms rising above your head as your shirt joins you for the ride, your belly button peeking from underneath. Three chimes before you’re opening the microwave door and pulling out the orange chicken and lo mein, stabbing a fork in it and blowing on the spoonful of food. 

You turn on the television the moment you return back to the couch, taking a moment to unwind and watch something that isn’t so of substance. Somewhere in between, you fall asleep, food halfway finished and nearly falling from your grasp. Your head leans crooked as you sleep sitting up, your head resting simultaneously on the wall and the leather as you’re tilting over. Ever so slowly do you move until you hit that slippery slope, falling down so fast that you jump awake in fright and your fork finally falls from the tupperware, clinking against the marble floor. 

“Shit,” you curse, never meaning to fall asleep. Glancing at the clock, more time has passed more than you expected, making you curse one more time as you go in search of your phone. It loads back to the last submission, which you quickly click out of and find something else. It takes time getting back in the groove of things, but when you do, you find yourself with certainly more energy than you did before, managing to skim through most of them. 

You spend the remainder of your day cooped up back on the couch before you’re clicking on what you note will be the last submission for the night. The document name, Never_Be_Enough_KCH.docx, when you click on it, it takes some time to load. The three dots spinning around in a circle before the front page loads. 

When you start scrolling, you gasp. “Damn…”

Over twenty thousand words to read. Wow, you think. They practically wrote a novel. You started debating on if you should really end your night with this. If you did, you won’t go to bed until midnight, and you have a busy schedule tomorrow. It wouldn’t be worth it. However, you manage to convince yourself to read the first paragraph at most, reading why they believed that episode should’ve been remade. In fact, they went on a miniature rant on why they believed the entire first couple of seasons should have been rewritten. It made you laugh as it heavily intrigued you, leading you to scroll further and read through it more.

One thousand words became two, and five thousand became ten. The words were written so seamlessly that when you stopped to glance at the time, you no longer cared, wanting to know what happened next. It was as if you weren’t an actress, but a fan of the series itself, immersed so deeply into the plot as you started tearing up at some points, laughing at the next. It felt amazing to be well invested in something. When it was finally over and you could no longer scroll, you felt a missing piece within your heart as you felt like it was too short and there should be more. 

Pushing yourself to sit up on the couch, you wiped away the tears on your face. “Fuck,” you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself. You didn’t think coming into this, you’d get so emotional, but this person? You scroll back to the beginning of the document, reading their name. This person, Kamo Choso, really outdid themself. On your list, you highlight his name. You don’t care if you didn’t finish the majority of entries, you go to message your manager, downloading the file as you send it to her. You even go the extra mile to messaging your coworkers, your text reading along the lines of: This one is definitely worth the read. I think I’ve already found my winner. 

—

In two months time, Choso receives an email from The Aspiring. He doesn’t open it immediately. Instead, he waits until the next day at midnight when he’s finally remembering it. With short breaths and his chest rising and falling, his thumb hovers over the notification as the subject line reads— Your Submission Results are in . . . 

And gosh, Choso really has to work on his pessimistic views because when he finally clicks on the email, he immediately thinks he’s lost the competition, dread coursing through his body as he’s preparing himself for disappointment. However, the words of We’re Sorry never show up and instead . . .

Congratulations, Choso! We were very impressed with your submission as you’ve managed to keep us on the edge of our seats for your entry. We’re ecstatic to say that you’ve won a chance to meet your number one pick, Your Name. They have a very special note to further congratulate you. 

“Congratulations, Choso! I wanted to personally say that I really enjoyed every ounce and every minute that I got to read your submission. It was really immersive and I have to say, you have a special way with words. Thank you so much for the time you spent writing it because I know it was a lot. Can’t wait to meet you in person!” — Your Name. 

Choso went to sleep as a more happy and optimistic man. 

DAY ONE

Airplanes have never been Choso’s thing. He doesn’t travel much, but when he does, he tries to avoid them if he can. He doesn’t have a fear of them, but he finds them so uncomfortable. The entire process of having to check in and then going through his packed bags to take out electronics and whatever TSA asks of him. It’s a tiring process that he’d just like to avoid altogether. However, for you and a paid flight, he’s willing to go through the hassle. He just has to make sure he has enough stuff to help him survive the trip over. It’ll be about a seven hour flight, after all. 

Scheduled to board the plane at twelve-fifteen, he should arrive around eight-fifteen. However, due to the different time zones, it’ll be somewhere around five when they land. It’s the one thing that Choso dreads when traveling as a whole, the change of time always messing with his mind and making him an absolute grumpy mess as he tries to get accustomed to it all. But, then again, he tells himself, it’s for you and it’s an all expenses covered trip. He shouldn’t complain at all.

When he boards the flight and it’s finally ready for take off, the first thing he pulls out is his iPad and the keyboard installment to go with it, pulling up offline documents he made sure to have saved up to his current progress. He spends the majority of the time on the plane hopping from one document to the next as it helped ease him during the turbulence and ongoing ruckus that would happen from time-to-time. 

Black headphones that drown out the rest of the world, when his iPad dies and his portable charger is already in use, he spends the next hour fast asleep with Lofi hip hop playing in his ears until he’s being nudged awake. One, two, three times he is nudged because he’s finally awake. A raspy ‘hm?’ that leaves his lips before his dark eyelashes flutter open. His aisle is completely empty when he looks around, only a flight attendant standing in front of him. “Sir, the plane has landed and everyone’s left.”

“Huh?” he hums before he realizes what she’s said. “Oh!” 

Face heating up as he abruptly stands, nearly falling over, he rushes to the overhead storage to pull out his carry on luggage. He leads himself out of the plane, never making eye contact with the rest of the attendants as he shuffles with his carry on. Checking the time, it’s thirty minutes past five and the vehicle waiting for him will be here around six. He thanks the simplicity of domestic flights as he doesn’t have to go through the heavy hassle of further checks, making a beeline towards the exits as people crowd the outside, either waiting for their ride or taking their luggage out of the trunk.

Choso passes the time with music playing in his ears and his eyes glued to the phone, reblogging posts and reading through his TBR list on Tumblr. When the clock ticks closer to six, he’s shutting his phone off and keeps his eyes out for his designated ride, anticipation running through him whenever a vehicle comes close. It has his anxiety racing as his fingers twitch to the jagged birthmark etched across the bridge of nose, the dark line probably annoyed with his habit. 

When his ride did come, it was more than he expected. A black limousine parking in front of Terminal D, just as they had explicitly told him. People were selfish as the vehicle tried to turn into the front, honking their horns in hopes to get past. However, the stubborn chauffeur stayed in place as shortly, people made space for him. When he finally parked, the chauffeur hopped out of the front seat as he quickly averted his attention to Choso. The dark birthmark being the indicator of his identity as he approached him. “Kamo Choso, am I right?”

Choso nods, eyes widening as he realizes that the limousine was, in fact, for him. He shouldn’t have expected anything less, but he didn’t suspect it to be just like the media portrayed it. “Uhm, yeah,” he verbally responds. “That’s me.”

“Great,” the chauffeur smiles curtly. “I’m Haibara. I just need to see some ID and we’ll be on our way.”

Pulling out his passport, Haibara takes a picture of it, his fingers swiping and clicking away before guiding Choso over to the vehicle. As the man holds the door open for him, Haibara already having thrown his luggage in the trunk, Choso takes a step inside as he observes in awe. Next to his seat, a basket of goodies that waited for him as well as a few refreshments. When Haibara finally hops into the front seat, he looks through the rear view mirror. “_____ bought you a basket full of snacks for you to enjoy on the ride down. She expected that you’d be a bit peckish after the long flight. I hope they’re to your liking.”

“Oh,” Choso hums, grabbing the basket as Haibara starts the engine, pulling out of the space. “That was nice of her.”

The comment was more to himself, and thankfully, Haibara didn’t comment on it as he simply nodded in agreement as his eyes became glued to the road. The only time he did talk was to ask if Choso wanted to change the radio, and showed him how to do so if and when he felt like he needed to. Other than that, the ride to the hotel was silent. The traffic was heavy where it nearly took an hour to arrive. Choso had finished two bags of chips since the ride, about to pick up another one when Haibara spoke once more. 

“I forgot to mention this earlier, but there’ll be a welcome dinner later tonight,” he informs Choso. “Once we arrive, you can freshen up and in an hour’s time, you’ll meet me back at the entrance of the hotel.”

Just as he says that does he pulls up in front of the hotel, parking the limousine right in front of the double doors. Exiting the vehicle, Choso grabs the small basket of snacks along with him as Haibara helps him with his luggage, signaling for the bell boy to assist Choso. The building exterior itself is large, a beautiful sight to see, but the inside is a thousand times better. It’s unfortunate that Choso didn’t get much time to marvel in it as Haibara nudges him forward as the bell boy nearly leaves him behind. 

“You’ll have plenty of time to look around later,” Haibara chuckles as he helps Choso check in at the front. Right as he’s about to temporarily depart, he gives Choso a curt nod. “I’ll see you in a few.” 

Choso doesn’t know if he prepared himself well enough. What was he supposed to do when he finally met you? It never felt real to him until this very moment, where he finds himself in the small confines of his hotel room and he’s opening his suitcase. Did I even pack anything decent enough to meet them? What am I even supposed to wear? Is it fancy? “Fuck,” he curses, flinging the cover of the suitcase over it as he stands up. A shower… A shower is what he needs. 

When it’s the time that Haibara instructed Choso to meet him, Choso is two minutes late. He hopes the brunette wouldn’t chastise him for it, but then again, the man didn’t seem like the type. If anything, he’d probably sweep it under the rug as it was just two minutes. 

So said, so done. Instead of the limousine, Haibara’s now standing in front of a black Lexus, legs crossed as his hands are stuffed inside his pockets. He has that habitual smile on his face as his eyes crease as he says, “You’re right on time.”

It makes Choso want to snort as Haibara holds the door open for him and hops inside. The drive is much shorter than the trip from the airport down to the hotel, arriving in just under twenty minutes. Haibara bids him a nice farewell as he instructs Choso what to do when he gets inside. 

He can already feel it, the sweaty palms and the damp under arms of his short-sleeved button up. He’s starting to shiver already as well. Each breath he takes is getting shorter and shorter and he’s trying to stop himself from experiencing a panic attack when the doors automatically open for him and there’s a sweet woman standing right at the front.

“Welcome to Mahogany,” she smiles kindly. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Uh, yeah,” Choso breathes. “I—I’m here for the welcoming dinner. My name’s Kamo Choso.”

She nods her head, receiving a clipboard as she reads through it. When she spots his name, her eyes light up as she leads him around back. That’s where he spots her, where it took him no time at all. Everyone’s seated together at a table that has to fit around twenty at least. It’s overwhelming.

It’s not just you, but it’s Geto Suguru, Kugisaki Nobara, Itadori Yuuji, Gojo Satoru… It’s some of the cast that he’s only ever been able to meet in person. It has him stopping in his tracks just a few steps away from everyone, where the hostess walks ahead of him, unaware that he’s stopped. He wants to turn around and tell Haibara to come back, but he’s probably driven off and he never did get his number. Would he have even given it to me? He asks himself. 

“Here’s your—” the waitress stops her in tracks when it comes to her realization that Choso hadn’t followed along, head spinning around to see that he’s a few tables down. It calls for more attention, much to his dismay as the chatter dies down and almost everyone’s peering their head to see their new guest.

Choso wants to die, face heating up as his hand raises to scratch at his birthmark. It’s the same person that’s caused this reaction to speak up. Your eyes elated as you push back your chair, coming to stand. “Choso!”

Your eyes meet your smile. They sparkle as you extend your arms out to him. Dressed in an orange dress, it compliments you well as the top hugs your upper frame before flowing at the skirt. It's simple, but perfect for the occasion as you have an ivory-toned shall to go with it. “I've been so excited to finally meet you in person. You have no idea how much I loved your entry. I read every single word of it and I even went back and read it two more times when I had the chance.”

You speak to him so easily. How do you do it? “You— You actually read it?”

“Yeah,” you chirp, guiding him to his seat next to you. “We all got a chance to read through the majority, if not all, the entries, and chose our favorites. Oh! By the way, let me greet you to everyone here—” 

Slowly does his anxiety dissipate with every passing second as he takes a seat next to you. You take time to introduce the winning contestants who’re also here and your co-stars. His heart still races, however, beating rapidly across his chest that it feels like it’ll implode. You’re more beautiful than you appear on screen. Your hair combed into one as your voluminous strands dance upwards like a crown. Curls that glide alongside your forehead with tendrils right at your temples. Your makeup matches the warmth of your orange dress, a slightly orange-tinted blush that works well for your warm undertones. You’re a beauty made to be marveled over, someone who deserves to be painted, your picture hanging in one of the finest of museums. 

Eyes glued to you the majority of dinner, he can feel it deep within himself. He’s in love. 

DAY TWO

A blessing that comes with acting is the impact that you have over people’s lives. Seeing how being an inspiration has truly framed a person’s life as they build a positive outlook on their dreams, thus chasing after them. The stories they share, or how they’ve found comfort in your shows. It all warms your heart when their genuinity outshines and sparks joy within you. 

You don’t want to hold yourself on a high pedestal, but you can read it all over Choso. The adoration he has for you, it was evident in his entry and it was evident at the welcome dinner last night. Standing starstruck as he gawked over the celebrities that sat around the table, but eyes ultimately meeting yours as they glossed and shined over in a thin veil of tears. You remember first being that way when you hit the limelight. It felt incredible meeting your admirations, but it could also be embarrassing.

It was cute how Choso was flustered and completely enamored once you broke that thick coat of awe, pulling him in for conversation as many of them complimented him for the work he put in before boasting about their winners themselves. In your eyes, the dinner was a tremendous success and you could only anticipate what today was going to be like as well as the rest of the week.

As your makeup is being done for the current episode filming, there’s three light knocks on the door. You shout, “It’s open!” 

One of the personal assistants opens the door, pushing his head inside as they make eye contact with you. “Ma’am, Choso has arrived. Do you want me to send him in?”

You don’t hesitate to respond with a ‘yes.’ Nodding your head, you smile. “Send him in.”

It isn’t long before the door’s shut that it’s opened once again as the same personal assistant leads Choso inside the trailer. Instead of the black button and black denim jeans he had on yesterday, Choso has on a white t-shirt and a pair of black sweats as he stands inside the trailer, hands shoved in his pants as he stands awkwardly. Your makeup artist gives him a polite smile as she does the last touch-ups before giving you the go ahead. 

“She’s all yours now,” she chuckles, before gathering up the belongings and giving the two of you alone time. Choso still can’t believe how your eyes continue to match your smile, portraying genuine happiness as you beckon him to take a look around.

“It’s not really much,” you shrug. “Just what I need to survive when filming hours drain me and I don’t have the time and energy to head back to my apartment.” Choso’s eyes travel, taking in the small exterior. It feels so homely as a bed is fixed to the far left corner as a few furniture pieces stand, holding a clutter of your belongings. Somehow, you’ve managed to make the space feel so real and cozy. “But, this isn’t the exciting part—” You cut the tour of your trailer short, pushing open the door and climbing down the steps. “—C’mon, the set where we actually film is much better.” 

You walk a few paces before Choso catches up to you. When he finally exits, you could’ve sworn you saw a glimpse of something shimmering as his hands went stuffed back into his pocket, but you ignored it, figuring it was just the reflection of the light. Quickly, your mind ventured to the task at hand as you led the way down the set. 

“We have two options for you guys,” you say, constantly glancing back at Choso to make sure he’s caught up with your quick steps. “Because the new season hasn’t aired and we don’t want to spoil things for you, we’ve got your chauffeurs on standby. You’ve got Haibara and I know he’s willing to bring you anywhere you want, he’s being paid a bit extra for it.

“Or, if you don’t mind a bit of spoilers and want to see more of the action,” you turn around, walking backwards as you wiggle your eyebrows. “You get to watch us film. Which one is it?”

“Who wouldn’t want to see you guys film?” Choso scoffs, his answer evident. He didn’t come all the way here just for a simple break from his everyday life. No, he wanted to experience the life that you lived as an actress. 

You snort. “That’s what I thought, but the rest of the guests wanted to stay behind. They said they didn’t want to be spoiled at all, which I can respect, but—”

“I think it’s a waste of a day,” Choso shrugs. “To finally get the chance to see what happens right before your eyes, and to miss out on that opportunity because you don’t want to be spoiled. Knowing about one episode won’t kill me.”

His candor sparks interest in you as you nod your head, processing his words. “What do you do for work, Choso?”

“I work from home as an IT,” Choso says. 

“What?” you guffaw. “You wrote a twenty-thousand word entry and you���re only working in IT? That’s a waste of talent.”

“I’m hoping to find something better at some point,” he tilts his head. “I don’t plan on staying in the field for too long. Though, I am good with computers.”

“Sorry,” you apologize, not initially aware about how your statement sounded. “I didn’t mean for what I said to come off so hard, but you definitely have some talent and I don’t want you to leave it to rot. We need a lot of writers within this industry. We need to keep the ideas flowing.”

Choso didn’t come here to network his way into a better life. He always felt like writing was a hobby that he had come to develop over the years after indulging himself in fandom culture. He loved writing, but also feared it. Feared the ideas inside of his head and how people would perceive his ideas. How people just couldn’t see past the wrongs of a character, never being able to tell past fiction and reality anymore— it scared him. However, he did dream of them coming to life. This was his opportunity to do so, but he didn’t want it to seem like that’s why he submitted his fic. He wanted it to garner attention, but only to win. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “I understand what you meant. I guess… I never really thought of myself as becoming a writer. Like, yeah, the idea came to my mind, but I was always afraid.”

“I know this is easier said than done,” you stop, your tone getting serious as your voice drops low. “Especially coming from me who’s been working in the industry for the majority of my life, but fear is one of the biggest things to hold you back in life. It’s the one thing that the majority of people let control them. I let it control me for part of mine.”

One thing your father instilled in you was fear. The moment you stepped into the limelight, he wanted you to take certain precautions. Fame could be detrimental to a person and having seen the many scandals through limitless magazines and news stations, he didn’t want you to fall victim to Hollywood. Limited interviews, chaperoned events— he did what a father was supposed to. He kept you safe, but his love knew no bounds and it started to hover. 

When footage of you smoking at sixteen was released, you were under lock and key as you could only go to set and straight back home with him. He kept you under his immediate scrutiny that had you rigid and stunted for it all. “Do you want to die?”

He would fill your mind with these drastic fears, always thinking of the worst. “Do you know what nicotine could do to you? It could ruin your lungs and give you cancer, then you’ll die!”

As an adolescent, you wanted to live vicariously and do what other kids your age did. You didn’t want to lose your childhood because of all these rules as a child actress. Why couldn’t you have both? So, you’d roll your eyes and when your father would least expect it, you’d sneak again, in hopes that this time you wouldn’t get caught.

Then, you turned eighteen and it seemed like all of your father’s fears were right. People were so quick to taint your image because of the boundaries you had set over your own body. It was as if you had no autonomy, no right in what you had to say over yourself as people labeled you all sorts of names— prudish bitch, whore, slut. Whatever name in the book that they could throw at you. 

Finally did you cage yourself in, locking yourself away from the outside world because it had gotten to you. Your father would always look at you in a certain way afterwards, his eyes twinkling as if to say, I told you so. 

Choso can’t help but wonder where that pretty little head of yours has gone, watching you silently as your mind drifts off as you let out a sigh. “My advice is to let that fear go and take what you want by the handle. You have real potential in you, and if you can find your way to make what you love your living, I say go for it. Especially when you have someone under your belt who you can take advantage of.”

You throw him a wink with your last sentence, the corner of your lips curving upwards before leading him to set. “Now, let’s go before I get yelled at for being late.”

You are an experience. That’s what Choso tells himself at the end of the day when he’s back inside of his hotel room, your golden bracelet in hand as he’s underneath the thick comforters as the air conditioner runs icy cold. It glimmers underneath the moonlight as he runs his thumb over it, heavy eyelids that taunt him, telling him to go to sleep. 

And while he soon succumbs to it, you’re an anxious mess rummaging through your belongings as you can’t find the sentimental piece anywhere. You’ve shot text messages out, asking anyone if they’ve seen it, but to no avail. Your mind wanders back to this morning— Choso. That quick glimmer before his hands were shoved in his pocket, but as quick as the thought came, you were twice as fast to dismiss it. 

That voice of your father comes back to mind, him calling you a naive little girl before accepting the role as Beatrice Martin. It comes back to haunt you, questioning why you’re so quick to dismiss a stranger. And you know that deep down, your father is right. You’re still that naive, optimistic little girl. 

DAY THREE

A habit you had developed over the years was fiddling with your bracelet. The thin gold chain dangling on your wrist as you twisted it around in efforts to keep you comfortable. Now that it’s gone, the habit you had worked to stop has returned, but this time in search of the same piece of jewelry. Scratching at your wrist while you still keep a smile on your face. You look out the window, your eyes transfixed with nothing as the moving vehicle blurs everything. Haibara glances back at you, worry etched in his mind, but he’s already asked you if you were fine once. He knows that he’ll push the limit if he asks again. 

So, when he’s in front of the hotel, he keeps on that bright smile as he parks the vehicle, “We’re here, ma’am.”

His smile falters when you don’t correct him for using the term ma’am, lips quivering as you climb out and walk past, only muttering out a weak, “thank you.”

Get yourself together, you chastise yourself. It’s just a bracelet. Just breathe. 

It’s like a switch goes off inside of you when Choso appears, cutting out your worries as your legs move towards him. You force yourself not to worry, your eyes twinging in faux happiness as your voice gets chirpy, a few octaves higher than normal when you greet him and pull him in for a hug. “I hope you’re ready for the day!”

“Uhhh, yeah,” Choso fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. “I think I am. Still not sure about being filmed, but I think I’ll get used to it.”

“If you’re still having second thoughts, I can talk to the camera crew and work something out,” you say. “We can keep the footage to a minimum.”

“No, no, no!” Choso shakes his head. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You won’t,” you say, pulling out your phone from your purse. “I’ll message them right now and see if—”

Choso immediately reaches out for you, grabbing your wrist tightly to stop you. It was a subconscious movement on his behalf, not aware of what he was doing before it’s too late. It catches him by surprise as it does you. And he hates how you’re looking at him, eyes widened as you pull yourself out of his grasp, Haibara about to intervene. “I—I am— I’m so sorry. I just… It’s fine if they record. I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” you breathe, voice low as it cracks towards the end. “It’s fine.” It sounds like you’re more so trying to convince yourself that. “Let’s just get going before we’re late.”

The tension in the car eased the moment the two of you were led out, the period of silence being a heavy relief as you hopped out of your side and let out a deep breath. You have your hair out today, letting your curls free in the unrelenting wind that blows it out of the perfectly curated shape it was in. You have to hold your hair up in order for the stray strands to twirl its way into your eyes, careful on your feet in the heels you’re wearing today. The skirt of your floral maxi dress blows through the wind as your hand casts a shadow over your face. Oh, how Choso wishes he could have captured the moment on camera at just how pretty you are, feeling like he never says it enough. You make him feel inadequate how you manage to always shine bright. 

“Whew,” you huff. “It’s windy today.”

Your heels click when you’re faced with Choso. “The camera men are ready. You’re good to head on in, now?”

When Choso nods, you smile and hold out your hand for him. He stares at it for a few seconds before understanding what the simple gesture means. His heart beat skyrockets when he fixes his hand into yours, fingers intermingling with each other’s as you take the lead. He, however, holds open the door for you, trying to fix the erratic pace within his chest as he enters the establishment with you. You lean into him, your grip tightening. “Don’t worry about anything. Try not to focus on the cameras too much and just look at me. It’ll be a bit easier that way.”

Listening to your advice had put him at ease for the majority of the time as the two of you had started the day with brunch, simple conversations that ran smoothly. All throughout, you kept close proximity to him as the two of you ventured through California on two feet, bringing him around shops he found interest in and other places. 

Choso feels at such an ease that he forgets all about the camera crew that’s trailing around the two of them, following their every move. With your fingers intertwined with his, it set him at ease that he got lost in a train of thought. You had to nudge him back to reality for his eyes to flicker back on you as he let out a, “hm?”

“You didn’t hear a word I said,” you laugh. 

“I’m sorry,” his face heats up. You shake your head, fanning it off.

“Don’t worry about it,” you sigh. “I was just telling you that there’s this spot that’s really pretty. If you ever decide to move here and bring your partner, this is a good place to go to.”

“Okay,” Choso nods. The sun is starting to set as the two of you are brought to this spot deep within the park. It’s secluded around this time as the sky starts to darken. You bring him over to a bench, bending down to adjust the straps of your heels. Taking them off momentarily, you stretch out your feet as you exhale. “If I had any common sense, I would’ve worn sneakers.”

“At least you know for next time,” Choso shrugs.

“Yeah,” you say, pursing out your lips. There’s a comfortable silence shared between the two of you as the heat of day simmers down to a calming cool. It’s tranquil as you shut your eyes for a moment, taking it all in. Except, Choso, however. He’s staring off into space before he blurts out, “Y’know, I’ve never been in a relationship.”

It takes you out of your trance, your head tilting as you look at him in curiosity. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Sorry, that was random, but I was just thinking about it and I’m grateful that my first one is with someone I deeply admire, even if it’s not real.”

“Can I ask why?” you hum. “Why haven't you been out on a date before?”

Choso squirms, eyes diverting away from yours. “I can’t give you a specific answer, but I would say that deep down, it’s my fears controlling me— yet again.”

You nudge him. “We got to work on that. You’re a handsome guy. I’m pretty sure that someone would love to be with you.”

“Yeah, but what if we only end up hurting each other?”

“I’m afraid that’s part of life,” you sigh. “Sometimes people hurt other people, whether we mean to do it intentionally or not. It’s a good thing that you recognize that now, so when you actually find that someone, you make that conscious effort.”

“What if I never find that someone?” Choso asks. “What if I never find someone who makes me happy?”

“Then you find happiness within yourself.” Your eyes sparkle as the wind picks up, blowing your hair into your face. The cameras pan in on the both of you, noticing how Choso’s eyes are glued to you in such longing. Brown eyes that are hyper-fixated on you. His eyebrows crinkle together in amazement at how you always seem to say the right things. “How do you do that? How do you always know what to say?”

You shake your head, your bottom lip juts out. “I don’t always know, but… some of it’s just recycled advice.”

Your laugh is contagious, bringing him to laughter at your statement as you stand up. Shortly afterwards, the camera men start to pack up their stuff, bidding you their farewells as they leave ahead of the two of you. You’re both still sitting on the bench despite the nipping cold that bites at your skin. The conversation continues as you start to tell Choso the worst dates you’ve been on in efforts to not make him feel so down about his lack of experience. 

When it gets too dark, you call Haibara to meet you at the park. With thirty minutes left to spare as the two of you start walking down the trail again, you begin to grow more curious about the boy. “You’ve had your first kiss before, right?”

“Yeah,” Choso scoffs. “I’m not completely fearful of relationships.”

You throw your hands up in defense. “I was just wondering—” Nudging him, you give him a sly smile. “—But look at you. The playboy.”

“I’m not a player, just��� they never turned into dates.”

“Because of you or them?”

He has to take a moment to ponder on it. “A bit of both.”

“Mmm,” you shake your head in disagreement. “I think it’s a bit more you.”

His squirming is your answer, your laughter filling the silent air as you both stand in the parking lot now. You find another bench to sit on, Choso joins you as another wave of silence crosses by. Your eyes are on him dangerously as they squint over at him. There’s barely any cars parked, only the park ranger vehicle across the street, so you’re not fearful of any possible paparazzi. Still, you try to look through the green tufts of bushes and trees, trying to check any spot they could be hiding before you lean closer to Choso. “Let me kiss you.”

Eyes widening, his body stiffens up completely at your suggestion. “What?”

“Let me show you what it’ll feel like when someone you care about truly kisses you,” you suggest. Your head tilts to the side as you start to sway. His pupils turn to hearts, brightening up at the proposition as he faintly nods. An ‘okay’ falling from his lips before he’s inching closer instinctively. You’re meeting him halfway, noses touching before the lips. Your breath against each other the only semblance of heat provided as you look into his eyes. They’re glossy as they flicker from yours to your lips. Before you could have any second thoughts, Choso takes the opportunity.

Crashing into you, his teeth clash with yours and you have to push him back to gain more control, physically telling him to ease down a bit. His body tenses as you inch closer to him, pulling him forth and getting him to relax. He gains more confidence, a hand coming to pull at your waist in a need. You instigate it further with the swipe of your tongue, deepening the kiss much further than anticipated. Both arms snaked around your waist, your chest is pressed against Choso’s as a hum vibrates off his chest. 

It should’ve signaled you to detach yourself, but no. What does, however, are the bright headlights of the dark vehicle pulling in and the steady hum of the engine as Haibara parks in front of the two of you. Pulling away, you stare into Choso’s dilated pupils, seeing how his chest rises and falls. Silently, you stand up. “We should go.”

You can feel Haibara’s curious eyes on you, the both of you, as he holds the door open for the two of you. The car ride is silent the moment you step in it. Choso’s mindsets ablaze, a course of fire lighting up the path in his brain as he taps his feet against the vehicle’s floor. You, however, remain indifferent as you look through the window, for once, not needing to feel for your gold bracelet. 

DAY FOUR

It’s very important to be able to differentiate fiction from reality. Choso feels that it’s true when it comes to fan fiction. The many times people have come into his inbox to complain about the content he rights for and the morality of the characters or how he made his reader to be. Hate messages made to bring him down and deter him from writing fan fiction, but he never gave in. They went on and on for days, even weeks, about the choices he made the reader take and it grew exhausting. Were they truly watching the same television show after all? The entire premise was about morally gray characters and the bullshit decisions they made, and suffering the consequences after it. Why did the reader need to be someone standing on moral high grounds during the apocalypse? 

‘Oh, I would never do that as a reader.’ ‘Oh, you mischaracterized me here in this fic. I’m not a bitch in real life.’ ‘Are we watching the same show because Yamaza would NEVER!!’

He had endured it all. But, personally, his favorites were the one telling him to commit suicide. He’d run to his mutuals quickly to make fun of those who hid behind anons, chatting together in their private discord servers about them and their hypocrisies. Then, he’d run back on Tumblr to delete them because he’s gotten so used to the nasty climate that he no longer addresses things that aren’t detrimental. Unfortunately for them, they’re not one of them. 

There’s a media literacy crisis, where people don’t understand the plot devices of antagonists and their purposes. And if they do, it’s because a conventionally attractive actor or actress plays them in the film. Truthfully, however, they don’t understand. They believe the moment something is conveyed in darkness and negativity is the creator saying that they endorse those actions, reading or watching something purely for the enjoyment without really and truly dissecting what they’ve just consumed. That’s why it’s so easy for Choso to dismiss people like that who try to question his moral standing. He knows what he stands for. He knows that he’s a good person. He doesn’t need a stranger online to dictate whether or not he is. 

However, he finds his mind slowly deteriorating, mixing up what’s real and what’s fake when it comes to you. You were wrong for kissing him. How could you fill his mind up with these false illusions, showing him how someone who cared about him would kiss him? Were you insinuating that you did— that, in actuality, you wanted more? You after all did let things escalate, having him pull you closer, deepening the kiss along with it. 

You had confused the poor boy, infiltrating his mind with ideas as he started to yearn for more. He started to desire you in a way that seemed to exceed what was already there for you, lighting a forest fire that you alone could not contain. 

Choso wasn’t just gifted with the written word. He was also exceptional with a computer. He liked to call himself tech savvy, a hacker sounded too juvenile in his opinion. His position paid him a decent amount and it led him to live comfortably, so he never complains. He can take off many days and not have to worry about his bills, but he preferred working on a steady schedule. It was easy to jump from one monitor to the next anyway, making writing fan fiction and assuring that websites ran smoothly was a simple thing he could multitask within hours of the day. 

However, he had to admit that he never utilized his skill to the full potential. Not until now, where he felt like it was a dire need to. Finding your location just as simple as a quick google search, quickly climbing out of bed to throw on some joggers and a hoodie. He didn’t think Haibara would agree with his choices, so he wasted thirty dollars on a trip, hopping out of the car and standing outside of the gated community. Checking his phone, he skimmed through the pictures and screenshots, typing in the code before the sidegate opened and he was led in. 

He kept his head down as much as he could, peeking up at the buildings to count down the numbers. It took some time where he nearly took the wrong turn, but it seemed to be a blessing in disguise when he finally did find your exact location. Ten o’ clock at night, the moon shines down on him as he tries to find a concealed spot to stand in. A light is on, letting him know that you’re awake as he follows the shine of it. 

He can’t get a clear view of you, blinds that block the way as well as your white sheer curtains. However, they’re not securely shut, where if stands off to the side, he can get a clear vision of you. With your phone in hand, you’re oblivious to the pair of lurking eyes that stand outdoors. Your gaze fixated on the small screen in front of you as you checked your calendar for tomorrow. Halfway into the week, tomorrow there are still some plans fixed for Choso and the other winners as it’ll be game day. Another day filled with cameras on you as they video the experience. The day after, it will be the day before the last, a farewell dinner hosted for the contestants’ goodbyes. The last day, their goodbye remarks as they have it to themselves for the most part. They can make last minute trips if needs be before their designated drivers are assigned to drop them off back at the airport. 

You set your phone down on the dresser next to you as you stand at the door of your bedroom. A yawn drags out of you as you stretch, pushing your chest forward as you raise your hand up wide. You know what would calm you down and get you ready for bed— a steaming, hot shower. You pull off your top from over your head, revealing your simple black bra from underneath as you aim for the laundry basket, the shirt landing inside perfectly. 

You weren’t ever much of a clean freak, especially when you were constantly on the go. You find your towel resting on your dresser near the window, reaching to get it when you see something in the corner of your eye. Was that a flash? You fix yourself to get lower, trying to see if your eyesight was playing games with you as you shift the curtain to the side, peaking through the blinds. 

Cursing to himself, Choso feels caught as he ducks down, pulling the hoodie over his head as he crawls on his knees. Getting out of your eye line, he squirms as he feels a tightness in his pants. Subconsciously, his hands go to hold his length, palming at it through the soft material before the coast is clear and you’re no longer suspicious. Unfortunately, when you’re leaving your room and heading to the shower, the glass is blurred and there’s no way he could get a clear shot from there. So, he calls it a night.

It’s fine anyway, because when he’s back in his hotel room, ridding himself of his joggers and hoodie, cock hard and prominent in his hand, he’s got the perfect shot of you to get himself off to. He squeezes, hissing as his hips arch from the bed. Tip leaking of precum as he decides to himself that you’d look prettier naked. 

DAY FIVE

There’s heavy tension in the air. Something so suffocating that the sharpest knife wouldn’t be able to slice through it. Though, you just believe that it’s your anxiety eating at you during this time of year. It is habitual of it to hit you now. Unlike the dresses you’ve been typically sporting on the events with Choso, today you’ve decided to keep it simple with a pair of jeans and a graphic t-shirt. Your hair combed in one and perfectly gelled back, the only thing seemingly out of place are the tendrils that hang in front of your ears. 

Part of you think it’s the growing exhaustion that’s been making you feel like shit lately. You figure with the way you’ve yawned for the third time in thirty minutes as your back slouches in your seat, the greasy pizza half eaten as your eyes are so close to shutting. It’s the deep chuckle of Sukuna that livens you back up, him sitting on your left as he leans forward. “Are you sure it’s right that you fall asleep next to me? You might wake up as a brand new person.”

Nudging him in his rib cage, he barely moves a muscle under all of that muscle. He smiles, revealing his sharp canines. You glare up at him, not faltering to his piercing crimson eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Someone always says that before they all looked fucked up,” he booms in laughter before playfully pushing at your shoulder. You know he only means it in love and jest. “Wake up. You’re the last person I expected falling asleep at festivities. You’re stealing my job.”

“I know,” you groan, straightening your posture as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “I think I need a break.”

“Don’t we fuckin’ all,” Geto agrees, chiming into the conversation. “But we’ve got a long way to go, so suck it up.”

And you try to for the most part, ordering a few drinks to get your blood pumping and the night to go on even faster. It’s a nice evening that you get to spend with your colleagues and their contestants, dragging along Choso to whichever game seems the most interesting before scoring a shitload of tickets. You impress him with how tactical and intricate you are, eyeballing the machines as your tongue sticks out as you try to drop the ball at the right moment. You’re a very competitive person, he’s come to learn, pushing him out the way when he misses a shot before showing him how it's done. You become so lively as the neon lights flash around the dark ceilings, bouncing off the walls and onto you. Those few drinks really worked. 

You throw yourself in Choso’s arms, winning yet again another game as tickets start rolling out. You had made a bet with Sukuna and his partner that you and Choso could gain more tickets than them and you’d be damned if you lost to that jackass. You loved Sukuna, but he’d constantly tease you for your loss. This time, you wanted to be the one to do it. 

“Yuh,” you grunt, voice rasping towards the end. “We’re so beating their asses!”

You try to pull away from Choso’s grasp, but he holds onto you tightly, seemingly refusing to let go. It nearly reminds you of the short incident with your phone and how he was so eager to snatch it from your grasp. It alarms you, eyes widening as you push at his chest. “Choso, let go.”

He falls from his trance, glossy eyes that die down its euphoria as he lets you go. Tensing up like he did last time and immediately becoming apologetic, “Shit, I—I’m sorry.”

You’re really hoping you didn’t lead him astray with that kiss. Taking a step back, you give him a side glance before turning on your heel. “Yeah, I’m gonna go get a drink. I’ll be right back.”

Heading to the food station, you spot Geto sitting down on a stool next to the counter. One arm over the filthy marble top, his back is turned towards you as he has a slushie in the next hand. You grab a seat next to him, the scraping of it alarming the man as he looks back. “Oh, hey! Are you having fun yet?”

“Yeah,” you hum with uncertainty. It’s his key detection that something’s wrong. Eyebrows furrowing, he’s shaking his head and you’re grateful you ran into him of all people. You’ve been needing to voice out your concerns. “No, you’re not. What’s up?”

He spins around his chair, his entire body facing you. Before he could let you speak, he’s already belting out your main concern. “Is it— what’s his name… Choso?”

“How’d you know?” The look that Geto gives you makes your stomach drop, grimacing as you slouch forward and silently groan. 

“If I’m being honest, (Your Name),” he starts. “His entry was the start of it. I get it some fans are really dedicated to their works and what they commit to, but if you read over his entry, it was highly fixated on you. 

You exhale. You had taken notice of that, but like everything else about Choso, you had decided to ignore it, paying so much attention to everything else and impressed with his dedication that you didn’t once find it alarming. 

“Not only that, but… Just an hour ago before we went back to the arcade, did you not notice how he was staring down Sukuna?” Geto continues to point out. “I don’t blame you if you didn’t. You were about to fall asleep, but he was giving him murder eyes.”

Geto wanted to say more, but he didn’t want you to feel like you were dumb for not noticing the signs from earlier. “But, what did you want to talk about?”

You were kind of hesitant, not wanting to feel like a complete fool for not mentioning it earlier, but better now than never, right? “You’re right. He is kind of… off?”

You console in Geto, mentioning how Choso tried snatching your phone away from you and just a couple of minutes ago, where he wouldn’t let you go. You noted your missing bracelet and how you couldn’t find it, telling Geto that you suspected it to be him, but still holding your doubts. “You are a messy person,” he noted. 

Your mind flashes to last night, but you thought you were pushing it too far now. There wasn’t any way that he could know your location. You didn’t want to mention the kiss because you can already see your faults in that. You didn’t need to be told that that was a stupid decision, you’re already starting to pay for your poor choices. “I don’t know, Sug… It was like, he was in this state and he wasn’t aware of what he was doing until after.”

“Or,” Geto butts in, pointing a finger out in suggestion. “He does know and he’s trying to play it off.”

You nod. That is a possibility, you think. “But, I’ll see—”

“Speaking of the devil,” Geto comes to a stand, eyes fixed behind him before another voice speaks and calls out your name, “(Your Name), is everything all right?”

You notice it now. Turning to Choso and watching how his eyes would flicker to Geto, a darkness possessing him. You stammered on your words, trying to find the best possible excuse you could make. “I, um— Sorry, I saw Geto and…”

“Sorry, man,” Geto smiles, intervening as he steps forward. His eyes crinkle like a sly fox as he looks Choso up and down. “I didn’t mean to hog (Your Name). We just started talking and lost track of time.”

Choso’s body relaxes in understanding, but there’s still that sliver of doubt inside him as Geto walks past. Choso turns to look back, and Geto’s still looking back at him as he walks away before his eyes flicker over to you. He thought Choso wouldn’t notice it, but he saw the subtle nod. Immediately raising his suspicions, Choso’s glued to you for the rest of the night. When your phone buzzes, you’re too scared to pull it out until you’re in the comfort of your home. A message from Geto: If push comes to shove, you know I have your back, (Your Name). Only two more days left. Hopefully nothing happens.

His words give you a sliver of relief, but you should’ve remained cautious, a pair of brown eyes lurking through your bedroom window. 

DAY SIX

You wake up feeling much better the next morning, the day running smoothly on set as the majority of your scenes run smoothly. You’ve paid no mind to Choso despite his constant eye on you, never seeming bored or tiresome of watching you all day and following you like a lost puppy. Sleeping has given you some clarity in what’s led you here, dissecting his actions when you woke up in the morning and coming to terms with your ignorance and your naivety. As much as legal action crossed your mind, you don’t have any substantial evidence to detain him, only his weird behavior to speak on verbatim. 

Nonetheless, it becomes easier throughout the day as your schedule is busy, never getting much alone time with him, minus small breaks and your lunch period. It isn’t until the day gets darker and the set is being cleared do you worry more, as the farewell dinner is in a couple of hours. In a tight-fitted silk dress, the royal blue looks perfect against your skin tone as you walk down the steps from your front door, the white shawl draped over you, providing you warmth as it grows chilly. The silver clutch in your hand sparkles as you reach inside of it to check the time. Haibara should be here any minute now. 

And just like clockwork do you see the bright headlights shine as he turns the corner. When he parks the car, you don’t give him a second to jump out, rushing to pull open the door handle and jump inside with a giggle. He grunts as he lets go of his, slapping the dashboard. “Ah, darn! I forgot to switch the locks before I parked.”

“You’re getting slow, Yu,” you smile. “I couldn’t wait any longer. You had me standing in the cold.”

“You could’ve always waited inside,” he remarks snidely, putting the car in reverse before pulling off. Haibara puts on a station that he knows you like, and you immediately start humming along to the music as he’s fixated on the road ahead of him. As your mind drifts off, you begin to wonder. “Yu?” his humming being your indicator to continue. “What’d you think about Choso? You enjoyed chauffeuring him around?”

Haibara hums, hesitant on his response as he looks through the rearview mirror. He’s seen a few of your exchanges with Choso, and they were all enough to set an unease within his stomach. Of the couple years that he’s been working with you, he’s come to learn that you’re really down-to-earth and sweet. With someone who’s grown up in the limelight, he first believed that he would get the exact opposite of that.

He’s had his fair share in the media, and you still withheld some things from it in regards to your father after returning back to the big screen. There were still some things that you were working through and that was fine. What he’s come to learn about you, though, is that you were still trying to hold onto some semblance of living an ordinary life. You took on this opportunity to help a fan, yes, to open up their horizons and have them utilize you as a connection to pursue any dream they had. However, you had crossed a line.

Watching you kiss Choso, it set a weird feeling in his stomach, but he also believed that you knew what you were doing— whatever that was. Keeping his eyes on the road, Haibara let out a heavy sigh. “He’s…”

“Be honest, Haibara,” you tilt your head, looking at him through the mirror. He exhales, staring back at the road. He clenches the steering wheel tightly as he shrugs, “I’ll just say that I’ll be glad when it’s only you I have to chauffeur in two days.”

At the dinner, you cling onto the shall, your feet tapping on the floor as everyone’s waiting for their entrees. Reaching for your glass, you twirl the straw with your tongue, sipping on your strawberry banana smoothie. You’ve barely spoken to Choso, feeling his eyes graze you the entire evening at your silence. It’s stifling.

“Are you ready to head back?” you try to ease the air around you.

Choso tilts his head. “I’m having mixed feelings. It’s a nice environment here, but I miss the comfort of my bed.”

You nod, continuing to sip your drink. Choso’s piercing brown eyes watching the way your lips pucker around the plastic. You retract almost immediately, clearing your throat. “How long is your flight back?”

“Around seven hours, I believe,” Choso contemplates. “So, it’ll be a long while.”

“Hopefully, you have some things to occupy your time,” you chuckle. “I know I need a few things to keep myself from getting antsy on long flights.”

“Don’t worry,” Choso smirks. “I got a few things that’ll surely keep me busy.”

With the tone of his voice, you’re not sure what he means by it. Maybe he’s just being playful or he knows something you don’t. You can’t quite determine if it’s your paranoia feeling this way, but you fall silent once more until the waitress comes back with a few extra hands as she sets down everyone’s plate. Reaching for your knife and fork, the back of Choso’s hand grazes the back of yours and you subconsciously stiffen up, but you choose to ignore it as you start to slice through your steak. 

Chatter starts up, livening the tables as your eyes brighten up as everyone enjoys their time. You’re in a heavy fit of laughter from a joke Nobara told everyone. Your face heats up as a fork in another spoonful of food in your mouth when you feel a hand against your thigh. You choke on your food, spitting it on your plate and calling for attention. Everyone’s eyes are on you now as Geto has his eyes on you first before they flicker to Choso. “Are you okay, (Your Name)?”

You nod, not wanting to draw too much attention as you nudge away Choso’s hand before they can travel any higher. Your heart starts racing as you try to control your breathing, your eyes watering. “Y–Yeah, I—” you clear out your throat again. “—I’m fine. Just, food nearly went down the wrong pipe.”

“Are you sure—”

“She said she’s fine,” Choso butts in, his hand returning to its spot on your thigh, aiming higher as his grip tightens. You clench your legs together, throwing him a look. 

“I don’t need you to speak for me,” you frown, your hand reaching for his wrist and dragging it away, the action more apparent to everyone now. Sukuna intervenes now.

“Hey,” he throws a threatening glare at Choso. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I suggest it stops now if you want to get back home safely.”

The two men have a stare off, Choso clenching his jaw as he doesn’t want to back down. A vein stands prominent on his forehead, his face heating up as his stance comes to falter, breaking eye contact with Sukuna first. He knows who to pick his battles with, and Sukuna isn’t one of them. Shoulders falling, he pushes himself from out of the seat as the legs scrape loudly against the floor. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, but trudging out of the restaurant. 

Choso calls for Haibara earlier than expected, alarming the man when he pulls up in front of the restaurant to see Choso sitting down on a bench, clutching onto himself as his eyes wander before spotting him. He could only jump to conclusions and say something happened. He could feel the thickening tension in the air as Choso hurried inside, pulling at the door handle before Haibara could shut it himself. 

Curiosity piqued Haibara as he hopped into the driver’s seat and glanced through the rearview mirror. A soft hum leaving his lips as he tries to decipher whether or not it’s a smart choice to ask. “So, how was dinner?”

He watches him, constantly glancing through the rearview mirror and the road. Choso looks in his direction before averting eye contact. The man shrugs as his head hits the window. “Nothing special. Didn’t feel like being there anymore.”

Something told Haibara that was all he was going to get from him, but surely, you had much more to say. When Haibara arrived in front of the hotel, he didn’t even bother to hop out the front seat as Choso was already clutching onto the door handle, jumping out of the vehicle before it could even fully stop. Haibara didn’t feel guilty when he couldn’t say, Have a good night. 

Inwardly, Choso was fuming. He wanted to do something more. He wanted to say more, but Sukuna was a hulking man that would have his ass handed to him in a matter of seconds. The moment he entered his hotel room, he was pacing around it. Stepping over his suitcases and clothes that still lay across the room haphazardly, he clenches his fists, nails digging into the palm of his hands. How could you embarrass me like this? How could you let them embarrass me like that? Did all of this just mean nothing to you?

Whenever Choso didn’t know what to do with his overwhelming feelings, he tended to write. Like clockwork, his body moved for his carry on bag, unzipping it to reach for the device as he pushed away a pile on the bed. He squinted through the bright screen as he opened up a new document and cracked his knuckles. His chest felt tight as he started breathing heavily, and before he could think about exactly what he wanted to write about, his fingers padded away on the keyboard. 

DAY SEVEN

You hadn’t seen Choso after last night’s event, and you were grateful for it. There was supposed to be a send-off that you would attend, but after hearing about the mishap, you had been given the okay to miss out on it. You had decided to go to set early instead, practicing your lines despite having them all memorized as you were cooped up inside your trailer. 

In the small couch, your head pulls to the side as you lean against your hand. You let out a sigh as you’re coming to grow accustomed to the missing piece of jewelry. Instead, you start gnawing on the pendant around your neck as your legs are hiked up on the couch as you hold the stack of papers. Comfortable in your spot, the buzz of a phone alarms you out of your concentration as you reach to pick it up. An unknown number pops on the screen and your face drops when you read the short overview of the message:

It’s Choso. And before you think about blocking me, I have one more thing for you to read, then you can go ahead and never hear from me again.

You should really do it, go and block him. Your finger hovering over the three dots as you search for the five-letter word. However, another buzz vibrates through your hand as another notification from him pops up— a document labeled ChosoYN.docx. And against your better judgment, you tap out of the options and click on it. And against your better judgment, you read through all three pages. 

In another life, you would be mine and you would be happy with me. Oh, those days would be glorious ones as my pale skin would traverse up your golden. In the silky sheets of our king-sized bed, your body would lay pliant as your short nightgown would rise up above your hips. The sun would kiss your beautiful skin, but not as tender as I would. 

My tongue would drag over you, my spit painting over you with liquid diamonds and only accentuating your beauty. My love, you’re a marvelous living statue that the world doesn’t deserve, only I do. 

You’d call me your husband, my hands pulling at your hips to meet me closer. Goosebumps rising against your skin, you look so pretty when you first wake up that I have no choice but to have you. Ten digits that run down the expanse of you, teasing in all the right places as I am so close to your sweetness. Your cunt my forever prize that no one else can indulge in. You’re pretty in the laced pink panties I had bought for you, a gift to signify my undying love, to soon be ridden of as I pull it down your thighs. 

You’d drip for me, an endless ocean that I’d thankfully drown in as the center of said underwear is stained in your love. Your love for me. You look at me with those pretty eyes, silently begging for more before the soft plea falls from your lips itself. “Please…” you’d say with sultry, plump lips that’d be wetted and I have no other choice but to dip down and give you a sweet kiss. Tongues dancing together, the fervor we share is too much yet never enough. Your back arching off the bed, covered breasts pressing into my chest as your erect nipples poke through the thin fabric.

Your glossy eyes shut as you indulge yourself into me, your moans singing in a beautiful melody that the birds could never rival. And I could only burst in pride, being the only man that can make you feel this way. Arms wrapped around your body, holding onto your hips with a secure grip, only you could make a man ever so needy. In only the thin fabric of my loose boxers, my erection presses against you, alleviating only some of the friction you’re hoping to feel. My tip leaks with pre, staining the dark pair of underwear as I continue to press into you so shamelessly. 

I leave you with your lips swollen, nibbling on the bottom lip before completely retracting myself from you, your eyes dilated in a heavy lust-blown haven that I could swim in. I can only pepper more on your skin as you giggle, arms wrapping around my neck before I feel the painful press of your nails digging into my skin. And again, “Choso, please…”

I could never truly depart from you for every second of the way, my lips making an invisible path down from your lips to your neck, sucking on that sweet spot that has you mewling in milliseconds. So high-pitched they are as you grow ever so needy when I leave, your tender breasts getting more love as I adore on them. And truly, I adore them, pulling down the straps of your dress and them falling out one by one. Pretty dark nipples that point right at me, calling my name so gently that I salivate. My tongue lulls out as I lean forward, taking each of your breasts into my mouth. Your back is arching off the bed as you only feel euphoria. You pull me closer, nails digging deeper and daring to break skin. I’d love you to, I’d love to have your marks shown off as a sign of your possession over me. There’s no shame in immense love.

But, lower and lower I go, kissing at your tummy, licking into your navel before that delectable cunt shines like a treasure. It glistens like porcelain as the sun continues to watch us in all of our glory. It’s the finest piece of China that I sometimes regret ruining, but never regret loving. A teasing thumb presses down on your clit, eliciting a whine from your lips and a twitch from your legs in attempts to trap me there. 

“You just love to tease me, don’t you?” you say in a needy breath, eyes hooded as you peer down at me. “Gosh, Choso…”

“You’ll get what you want soon enough,” I respond. “Don’t I always?”

“Mphm,” you hum. “After your torture, yes.”

You always know how to make me laugh, a breathy chuckle leaving my lips before I press down on that fat pleasure point. Hips rising from the bed, I have to use one arm to hold you down, pressing my weight down to hold one of your legs from moving as the other kicks out. Rubbing tandem circles in you, I watch from below in how you writhe and moan for me, and only me. Your slick leaks from your honey hole, painting you forever in a gloss as I have you like this. 

Oh, how I delve in this— the sweet torture you love to complain about. How I love to slowly take care of you, giving every ounce of your body the love and care it truly needs to survive. I put you in a haze that leaves your eyes shutting and your head twisting and turning as your stomach churns for more, never truly satisfied. But you will be, you’ll always be when you’re with me. Dipping past your clit, my thumb runs through your folds, making your juices bubble as I make it dance around. 

Your hands reach down to tangle inside of my hair and then caressing my face to pull me out of paradise to bring me to heaven. A silent yet forceful coax as your fingers tangle in my dark hair in efforts to get more. My impatient angel you are. That I am, too, however. My cock stirring inside my underwear as I press myself into the bed, an exhale leaving me as I finally hear your pleas and dip forward. 

My lips pucker, a wet and chaste kiss against your clit as one finger dives inside of you. A stretch sweet, but not addicting like my cock’s as my digit enters you, warmed by your honeyed walls. You only make it worse. Me rutting into the bed, making me feel like I’m back in more youthful years. Your moans are more drawn out through the air, humming out in pleasure as your eyes shut in careless bliss as your fingers still are still knotted inside my hair. They pull me closer to you as I suckle on the tender nub that has you singing out my name in a lustful symphony. 

My digits thrust in a languid dance that conjures up these addicting sounds, gathering your slick in a gluttonous effort to take what’s rightfully mine from you. With the swipe of my tongue, I can taste it and the vibrations of my satisfaction run deep through your body as I press my fingers further inside. They bottom out, curling inside as your hips buck upwards. They twist and contort in the right directions, having you grind upwards in attempts for more. And I give and give, picking up the pace as I only want to take and take. 

I feel everything that’s you. Nose burrowing inside of your curled bush, inhaling your raw scent that only makes me crave you more ferociously. Fingers that are sopping wet as your juices drip down to my wrists and stain the warm yellow beneath us. Your wetness can be heard, the sound of your pussy loud inside of your shared bedroom alongside your whimpers and wanton moans. Head thrown back as those butterflies control your body, flying down to your stomach. Your legs twitch as your cunt pulsates around my digits, your voice squeaking as you gasp. “Choso! ‘M about’ta cum!”

“Go on, pretty girl,” my voice reverberated against you. “Give me what’s mine.”

Fingers leaving you to hold onto your legs, pulling you closer to my face, my tongue dips inside of your heat as it drags your orgasm out of you. You’re calling my name out as your fingers press into my scalp as I hum in between your legs, your thighs tensing up as your milky cum paints my tongue. Your essence is an elixir, rejuvenating me back to life as I clean you up, making your cunt sparkle the moment I drag myself away. A thin web of spit breaking once I sit up.

It’s apparent now. My heavy need for you as I’m on my knees against the bed. You blink away the haze, chest rising and falling as your beautiful pupils finally look up at me. An exhausted smile beaming from your face as they beckon me over. I fall to you, taking your lips in mine again. You can taste yourself, taste just how good you are as your love for me is written all over it. 

Together, we hum in a dire need for more as your hips leave the bed and meet my erection. Devious little fingers of yours that dip to cup at my hardened cock, palming at my covered length like a little minx and causing me to grind into your hand. You giggle when I pull away, knowing exactly what you’re doing, knowing that I’m putty in your hands. Oh, how you have full control over me. 

And I let you.

I let you take out my cock, revealing it to the cold touch of the air. Massively hard inside of your hand as you run the palm of it down the undersides, it still leaks the translucent mess of precum. You stop to hold it at the base, your thumb running down the thick vein that runs down it. “You love to withhold what you want from me. Doesn’t it in pain you?”

“It never pains me to please you first.” I hold no shame in my undying devotion for you, my twinkling brown pupils that swallow you up in the very moment before my lips are back on yours once more. Grinding into your hand, it’s nearly pathetic how quickly a moan falls from me. My eyes shutting as I bite down on your bottom lip, my high-pitched whimpers rivaling yours. Your knees point to the ceiling before caging me in, legs wrapping around the expanse of my waist as you grip my length. A delicious squeeze to it before my reddened tip touches your clit. You get on me so much for withholding what’s rightfully yours, but ultimately doing the same to me as you press my length in between your folds. Your hips rolling when I pull away from you, a string of saliva follows before the band breaks. You look down, in between your legs to watch how your pussy coats my cock, feeling how I twitch against you as you only have me yearning for more. 

“Is this your payback?” is my question before I spot that sparkle in your eyes. You shrug. “Something like that.”

Finally, the tip of my length kisses your entrance, your hips arching upwards as I meet you in the middle. We sing together in harmony, moaning as I sheath myself inside of you, my hips stilling for moments before they retract. I’ve set the tone, a beautiful melody as skin slaps against skin and our breathy sounds course the room. The drill of my cock is enough to make you a delirious mess, filling the morning air with your pleasure as your pussy continues to gush out for me in a copious splendor. 

My name is a mantra, summoning something deep within me that coaxes my orgasm, but our bodies, intertwined as one move in sync as I feel how your cunt pulsates around my length. Your legs twitch, flexing and contracting before you’re rasping out my name. “Choso, I’m—”

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it once more. “C’mon, give me what’s mine.”

I am completely still inside of you when my release becomes overbearing, spurting my cum deep inside of your womb as your walls try to fight back. Your eyes squint shut as your mouth falls into a perfect ‘O.’ You milk me completely while simultaneously painting my length in your milk white honey. Like a bee, I’ve come to pollinate, hoping that you’ll bear my children as I come down from my high yet never leaving your sweetness. 

And when I do, I kiss one last time for the moment before pulling away. My eyes continue to shine with my everlasting adoration for you. “I love you.”

You feel ashamed with yourself when you clench your thighs, arousal pooling in your underwear as you close out. Finally, you block him (The document is well saved on your phone).

( author's note. ) thank you so much for taking the time to read this. it's my first time writing for choso, so please tell me how i did in the comments or reblogs !

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Heyy!! first of all your writing is SO GOOD i have come across an amazing writer such as yourself in a long long time. I was wondering if you could write something for remus lupin with the promt 44 in the list? probably like co-workers to lovers kind of a thing. i love him sm i wish he were real ( not that i'd have a chance but still ). THANK YOU SM <33 LOTS OF LOVE

STOP IT, you're making me blush!! You’re so sweet, and I appreciate you taking the time to tell me that—you’ve officially made my day!!

ivy's 1k celebration ❄️ navigation ❄️ prompt list

ˋ°•*⁀➷ REMUS LUPIN #44: "Tell me three reasons why I should put up with you." "Well, for starters, I'm cute."

You leaned against the staffroom door, your eyes locked on the brooding figure hunched over a pile of essays. The quill in Remus Lupin’s hand moved furiously, his brows furrowed in concentration. Honestly, he looked a bit like a kicked puppy—a really cute, endearingly grumpy puppy.

"Oi, Lupin." You sauntered in, plopping into the chair opposite him. "You look like you’re grading the downfall of humanity, not essays."

Without looking up, he muttered, "If you'd read this one, you’d think the same."

You laughed, the sound bright in the dull, parchment-scented room. "Careful, Professor Lupin, your grumpiness is showing."

Remus sighed, finally meeting your gaze, his tired eyes tinged with exasperation. "Some of us take our work seriously."

"And some of us," you shot back with a smirk, "know how to have fun while doing it. You should try it sometime—fun, I mean. It’s delightful."

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but he caught himself. "Why are you here, anyway? I thought you were done for the day."

"I was," you said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "but I heard you were holed up here, looking like a medieval monk. Thought I’d check on you."

"How thoughtful," he deadpanned, though the faintest blush dusted his cheeks.

You grinned, knowing you were getting to him. "You’re welcome. Now, I demand your attention for at least five minutes."

"Why?" he asked, tilting his head and raising a brow.

"Because I’m adorable," you quipped, twirling a strand of hair.

"Debatable," he shot back, though his cheeks flushed pinker.

"Rude," you gasped, clutching your chest like he'd just insulted your honor. "You wound me, Lupin."

His lips curved into the tiniest smile, and you knew you had him.

"Fine," he said, sitting back and crossing his arms. "You want my attention? Tell me three reasons why I should put up with you."

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand, your smirk growing. "Well, for starters, I’m cute."

"Debatable," he repeated, but his voice was softer, teasing.

"And second," you continued, ignoring him, "I make your dull, miserable days brighter with my sparkling wit and charm."

His eyes rolled, but you caught the corner of his mouth twitching.

"And third," you finished with a dramatic sigh, "you secretly like me and would miss me terribly if I stopped bothering you."

For a moment, he said nothing, his eyes studying you like you were one of his more perplexing students. You felt your pulse quicken, the usual banter hanging in the air like a question left unanswered.

Then he smiled—small and shy, but genuine—and looked down at the essays in front of him.

"You’re insufferable," he said, but there was no heat behind it.

"You’re blushing, Lupin," you teased, your grin widening.

"I’m not," he mumbled, his ears now undeniably red.

"Oh, you are. I win."

"Win what?" he asked, glancing up at you again.

"Whatever this is," you said, motioning between the two of you.

"Well," he said softly, "if this is winning, I think I’m alright with losing."

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in. Was Remus Lupin—grumpy, shy, always-buried-in-books Remus Lupin—flirting with you?

"Careful, Lupin," you said, leaning back in your chair, though your voice was softer now. "You keep talking like that, and I might start to think you like me."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and for the first time, he didn’t deny it.

[inawickedlittletown]

Who Could Ask You Be Unbroken Or Be Brave Again - BuckTommy (one-shot)

Summary: When Buck figures out that he's pregnant just a few weeks after the break-up, he has to tell Tommy. They talk. Words: 3.1k Notes: Sooooo I actually started writing this last week and I pictured a different fic entirely and yet I like to go where the journey takes me so here we are. Mpreg is a feature, but not like the most important part of this fic, though I know the fandom has taken it and run with it. The title comes from Hozier's To Noise Making Read on Ao3

-

If it weren’t for Maddie, Buck probably wouldn’t have figured it out. Well, he would have eventually. Probably. 

When he was on the cusp of teenagehood, the nurse at school had come in to have a talk with his class. The boys and the girls were separated and Buck remembered watching a badly shot movie. She had passed out a paper to take home at the end, information for their parents. Buck didn’t remember if his parents had even bothered to read it, much less take the advice. As a consequence, when all the rest of the boys in his class got tested, Buck didn’t. Later on, it just didn’t matter because Buck wasn’t having sex with guys so what difference did it make if he was a carrier? Then, when he got together with Tommy, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

So, he never knew that he could get pregnant. 

Not until he was pregnant. 

Not until he was leaning over his toilet, knees on the hard floor, stomach empty. Not until he remembered Maddie and the brie he’d baked for her and how when he’d cut a piece of the banana bread earlier the smell of the bananas had made him feel sick. 

Not until he managed to make it out of the apartment and to the nearest pharmacy where he stared at the pregnancy tests until finally just grabbing four at random. He was glad the girl at the checkout didn’t say anything. 

They all came back positive. 

There was no denying it.

In the bathroom, he took off his t-shirt and looked down at his abdomen. There was nothing different about his body, but eventually it would change. He would round out, growing a life in the womb that Buck hadn’t even known he had. Tentatively, he touched his stomach. In that moment he realized that he hadn’t even thought about it before already knowing that he was doing it. He would have the baby. He was going to be a dad. 

Tommy had left him — had left them. 

He was the other dad. 

Buck had to throw up.

Pregnant. He was pregnant. He was housing life, a life created out of him and Tommy…Tommy was gone. He had walked out of Buck’s life without a look back and Buck was once again the one that was left behind except that this time it wasn’t only him. His hand drifted to his abdomen. There was a baby in there. 

That was when the tears began anew. 

What the hell was he going to do?

Buck had cried for the better part of an hour after Tommy left. Then, he cried on Eddie’s couch and couldn’t even get the words out for why. 

“He dumped me,” he’d said eventually. “Tommy dumped me.” 

Then, the tears had started again. 

He cried when he got home the next morning and immediately he had to talk himself out of calling Tommy. 

Eddie had told him to stay busy and keep his mind off of it. To not reach out to Tommy. 

So, he focused on making himself dinner that night and after the lasagna was in the oven, he decided he may as well go out and eat all his feelings. Not to mention that he really wanted brownies. 

So, he found an outlet. Baking was better than crying. It was better than having to hide his phone from himself so that by the time he found it he’d be over the urge to call or text. 

Buck had almost convinced himself that he could keep going and that he wouldn’t cry over Tommy again, but he was crying again. Over Tommy. Over the break up. Over the tiny life that should have brought so much joy to both of them. Not that Buck wasn’t happy…not that the idea of being a dad didn’t excite him. It was just the timing and the circumstances. Tommy wasn’t there with him and Buck…

He needed to tell him. 

Tommy needed to know. 

Or maybe…maybe Buck could do it on his own. He could love this baby more than enough. Tommy had already made his choice on Buck, why would he come back just because Buck was pregnant. Buck wasn’t enough for him, the future that Buck wanted and that Buck had dangled in front of himself had been shot down without his say and this was not going to change anything, not if Tommy had thought their six months together was some fun and nothing further than that. 

A baby was…it was a big commitment. Eighteen years at least and it wasn’t about Buck, but the idea that Tommy might not react well to the news…

But, no, that was unfair. Tommy would at least feel the obligation to his child even if it was detached, even if it was just monetary. He would do right by the baby even if they weren’t together anymore. That…that hurt. It was like a stab right to the chest. This was not the way it was supposed to be. 

He sobbed, wiped at his eyes but the tears kept coming. Maybe he didn’t tell him. Maybe he didn’t find out how Tommy would react and…

But no. 

If it was the other way around and Tommy found out he was pregnant and didn’t tell Buck, Buck would never forgive him. He had to tell him. 

Wiping at the last of his tears, Buck went to the kitchen to grab water. 

Four positive tests. He needed to get a doctor’s appointment to confirm and then prenatal vitamins? What else? Was his apartment even an okay place in which to raise a baby? With the stairs and the balcony and how his bedroom wasn’t even really a room. And then there was his job. How long could he keep working before it was too dangerous? Was it already dangerous? 

Buck thought about calling Maddie. She was pregnant herself and she could help but the thought of telling her and not Tommy. Of telling anyone but Tommy…

He had to tell him. Buck reached for his phone. 

He couldn’t tell him over the phone and the thought of Tommy not picking up his call or leaving him on read or…what if he’d blocked Buck’s number? But no…Tommy wouldn’t do that. 

It was a Tuesday and Tommy didn’t usually work on Tuesdays. Unless he’d changed things…unless he’d been called into a fire. It didn’t mean he’d be at home, but it couldn’t hurt to try. 

So, he got shoes on, stuffed his phone and wallet in his pocket and grabbed his keys. Grabbed a few loaves out of his fridge for good measure. The remaining brownie pan too. 

Buck almost talked himself out of it on the drive over, but then he was pulling into Tommy’s driveway behind his truck. He waited a few more minutes before he got out of the car and started walking to the door. He raised his hand and knocked. 

Tommy had given him a key. It was still sitting next to the keys to his apartment. If this went badly, he supposed that he could give the key back. It would really be over, not that it hadn’t before. It was just that a part of Buck had hoped that if given enough time they might find each other again. It was silly and maybe it spoke to how many romcoms he and Tommy had watched together. Now…now he was pregnant and it changed everything. 

He knocked again. 

Heard movement from inside and then the door opened. 

Tommy looked like he hadn’t slept in days. 

“Buck,” he said. 

Buck decided to ignore that. “We need to talk,” he said. 

“I — yeah, sure.” 

Tommy stepped aside and Buck followed him in. 

“Do you…do you want a drink?” Tommy asked. 

The awkward energy between them killed him. It had never been like this between them before…okay, maybe after Buck messed up their first date, but even then it hadn’t been this. Buck shook his head. 

“What is all that?” 

“Oh. I, uh, I started baking and…anyway, these are for you.” 

Tommy took them and walked them into the kitchen. Buck followed. Nothing had changed since he’d been there last and the thought it might have and that Tommy could have moved on or something. Three weeks…it had really only been three weeks long as that felt. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Tommy asked, not even looking at Buck. 

How did he say it? Did he just blurt it out? On the drive over nothing had come to mind and Buck had never not known how to just say things except this time it was…it was so much harder. 

“Ev—Buck?” 

“I — I’m…I have some news.” 

“News?” 

The words got caught in his throat.

“Buck, is everything alright?” 

“I’m going to…pregnant. Maddie’s pregnant.” 

“Oh.” Tommy said with a confused chuckle. “You’re becoming an uncle again.” 

And a dad. 

Buck gulped. “Yeah. I am.” 

Tommy still looked confused. 

“I found out by accident. They don’t want anyone to know, but I had to tell someone. Don’t say anything.”

“Is that all?” Tommy asked, cautiously. 

Buck wanted to shake his head and to tell him it wasn’t only Maddie. It was Buck too. 

“We never talked about kids,” he found himself saying instead. “Among other things, but I never asked if you wanted kids. Do you?” 

It felt pointed. It felt like Buck was giving himself away. Tommy seemed a little confused. 

“Uh…I don’t know,” he settled on. “Never thought I would have any, but it’s not like I don’t like children. I guess I never really thought it was a real option or a deal breaker. Why are we talking about kids?”

“I’m…I don’t know. Just a thought,” Buck said. “I’ve always wanted to be a dad.”

“You want family,” Tommy said. “You'll get another niece or nephew soon.”

“Yeah,” Buck breathed and it took everything in him not to touch his stomach. Not just a niece or nephew, a son or daughter. Tommy’s too. 

“Did you…was there anything else?” Tommy asked. 

“I — that is—”

“Evan?” Tommy said. “You’re…are you alright?” 

He took a breath. “It doesn’t have to change anything,” he said. “I know you don’t want it to. You made that pretty clear. This isn’t like me trapping you or anything. I’m not. I just know that if it were the other way around I’d want to know and I’d want you to tell me. And no one else knows because you should be the first to know even though you kinda broke my heart there and that’s not going away. You know my fridge is full of loaves. I needed an outlet and so I started baking and I can’t seem to stop. I’m—”

“Evan, take a breath,” Tommy said. 

Buck did. He took several and when he looked at Tommy again, he found concern in his gaze. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I’m…well, as it turns out, I’m—” he couldn’t get the words out. 

“Are you sick? What’s happening? Evan, are you alright?” 

Tommy’s hand reached out to him, but fell short and drew back. 

“I’m not sick,” Buck said. “That’s not…I mean, that’s not what I would call this. I’m…Tommy, I’m pregnant.” 

Once the words were out, he felt lighter. His hand had drifted back down over his abdomen. Still flat, but for how long? When would he start showing? Hell, Buck didn’t even know how far along he was or anything else. 

Tommy was staring at his hand and then his eyes flickered back to Buck’s face. 

“Pregnant,” Tommy said. 

Buck nodded. 

“You’re a carrier. You never said.” 

“Yeah…I didn’t know until…until now.”

Tommy inhaled a breath and Buck could see that his mind was spinning, that he maybe didn’t even know what to say or think and Buck…Buck needed to leave. He’d told him, it was what he’d come to do and that was it. 

“I just wanted you to know. No obligation. No expectations. Just…that’s what’s happening. I’m pregnant and I’m going to keep it.” 

Tommy didn’t say anything. 

“I guess now you know. I’ll…I’ll go. See you around, Tommy.” 

Buck made it to the door. He was turning the doorknob and trying to pretend that his eyes weren’t filling up with tears when he heard a gentle:

“Wait.” 

And then Tommy’s hand was on his wrist and Buck turned. 

Tommy’s hand left his wrist but then he was cradling Buck’s face, thumbs wiping away his tears. 

“I was scared,” Tommy said. 

“Scared? You? But that’s, what is there for you to be scared of? I’m the pregnant one.”  

Tommy’s hands dropped from his face. “That,” he said. “You think I can’t be scared in this?” He motioned between them. “That it didn’t freak me out the moment you asked me to move in with you in the same sentence that you said you liked me for my confidence without even—”

Buck watched him. Watched the way that his shoulders were hunched and how he gulped. 

“You don’t see me, Evan, and if you don’t see me…the real me and not whoever you’ve made me out to be then this was never going to work. The moment I realized it wasn’t…that it wasn’t. I did this for you and for me. And now—” Tommy’s gaze met Buck’s dead on, “now you’re pregnant.” 

“I don’t see you?” Buck asked. 

He stepped away from the door. He laughed and turned away from Tommy before he looked back at him. 

“I see what you’ve let me see,” Buck said. “I see who you presented yourself to be and if you’re telling me now that you were lying about who you are then…then that’s—”

“It’s not what I’m saying,” Tommy broke in. “I’m saying you put me on some…on some pedestal that I don’t belong on. I’ve hurt people. Abby. Hen. Chim. Hid my sexuality to my own detriment and the detriment of others. I lied and lied and lied and…and it’s—”

Buck reached for him, grabbed his hand and made Tommy look at him. “You did it because you were protecting yourself from a world that wasn’t going to accept you. What I admire is how far you’ve come. What I admire is that you lived through it got to this side of it and can choose to be happy. Except that you don’t think you deserve it. I see you, Tommy.”

“Evan,” Tommy said. 

Buck grasped Tommy’s other hand. 

“Did you know I hate the way you leave your clothes in piles instead of putting them in your hamper, the way that you always forget to put the cap back on the toothpaste. You never close a cabinet. Some of your jokes are not funny and it shouldn’t have taken six months for you to tell me about Abby. I guess I’m to blame for that too because I didn’t tell you about her either. I hate how you never talked about Gerrard with me, not really. I hate the way you always take Eddie’s side and that the two of you always make fun of me. The first sign of trouble and you run. You’re not perfect, Thomas. But you know what, I love you anyway.”

The silence that fell between them lasted a few beats. They couldn’t look away from each other and there were tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes. 

“You scare me,” Tommy said, voice rough. “And I’ve been kicking myself since that night but I didn’t know…I couldn’t call or text because I walked away and I thought it was for the best. I’m broken, Evan, and if you ever saw that and didn’t — didn’t—” Tommy’s voice broke. 

“I love you,” Buck said. “And you’re not broken, because if you are then I am too.” 

Tommy actually let out a sob and his face crumpled. Buck had never seen him like that. He’d seen him worried and smiling and confused. He’d seen the way that his lips turned down that night when they broke up, but he’d never seen this. The way that the wrinkles around his eyes were deepened and his mouth was so turned down and how red it made his skin. 

Buck reached for him, pulled Tommy’s face down to his neck. He rubbed at his back and then ran a hand through his hair and Tommy sobbed and wet his shoulder with his tears and Buck held him and cried his own tears. It felt amazing to actually have Tommy in his arms, though the rest of it…the tears and the sobs was new. 

There was no knowing how long they stood there, until Tommy pulled back, wiping at his face with one hand. He didn’t go far, though Buck could tell that maybe he wanted to. When he finally looked at Buck, he looked a little more put together. 

“You’re pregnant,” he said. 

Tommy’s hand fell to Buck’s abdomen. There was nothing to feel there yet. They both knew that, but Buck put his hand over Tommy’s. 

“I am,” Buck said. “It doesn’t have to change anything.” 

Tommy let out a strangled laugh. “It’s going to change some things. Evan, you’re going to be the best dad.” 

“So are you,” Buck said and inhaled. “Right? I mean, you don’t have to be if you don’t—”

“I want to be,” Tommy said. “I don’t know how good I’ll be at it, it’s not like I had a great example. What I do know is that I am so in love with you and there is no way I’m letting you do this on your own. No way that I am walking away from you or this baby.”

Buck kissed him and Tommy responded at once, hungrily and like he was hoping to impart upon Buck every bit of his love through that kiss. 

They probably had a lot more to talk about. So much to figure out about them and about the baby. Buck could see more tears and more arguments, but if there was one thing that he could count on, it was that they would make it through it. They’d made it through this break up already any other hurdles or hardships could be dealt with. 

[bleue-flora]

Ya know… I just realized, what if this book titled Dream that says “dear technoblade” is actually that letter Quackity forces Dream to write in prison. Like hear me out, that torture scene ends after Quackity says “Dear Technoblade.” [clip]. Maybe that’s as far as he got? (lore wise or maybe just recording wise, like how Dream’s diary that just says “Techno admitted have a house” and “Steve is your polar bear” and nothing else) Techno never does receive this supposed letter as @elmhat pointed out [post] and I always did think it was weird that Dream would give him a book with his own name on it… so maybe Dream didn’t finish that letter after all. Maybe he refused and we didn’t see it because things got too gory like how the first visit torture scene cuts to Quackity covered in blood [clip]. Maybe in prison Dream gives Techno this unfinished letter as a show of - see I didn’t betray you or something. I don’t know, all kinda wild speculation but fun to think about anyways… the missing letter has always bothered me to be honest.

On another note (ha ha literally XD), I should also mention that after getting access to Techno’s inventory and ender chest, I did discovery what is in the other books (again no idea if anyone else has posted about this) and it is equally as profound lol.

In the one titled Secret it says “do not read this book”, the one titled Quackity says “quackity” and the one title Sam says “sam”. I know riveting stuff. ;D

Though to be fair, the lower case names are kinda funny to me. Like from a lore perspective, can you imagine if some guy you spent months in prison with was just like - Here, protect these books. This is all the info I have. Don’t share them with anyone - and it just says “sam” and you try not to offend him but like man’s clearly lost it.

Or maybe, we could reason that Dream’s hands are so fucked up he can’t write much anymore so he couldn’t write a legible version of the letter so thats why Techno never received one and that’s why all these books are mostly empty. Maybe all he manages to write is just “dear technoblade” and “quackity”. And Techno after watching him painstaking write it is like - Hey man, why don’t you just tell me orally and I’ll remember - because it physically pains him to watch him struggle. Perhaps as some have suggested, it’s why the signs on his wall don’t make much sense [post], because his handwriting is really just that bad. Perhaps if he takes his time he can write a little so Quackity and Purpled are spelled right and readable (or maybe Punz wrote it for him :0)…

Oh and on a rivals duo note, (not sure if anyone has talked about this yet either but) I found a couple of those books Dream gave to Techno in prison in a hidden chest in his house. One has the title information and that one just has the coords for their meeting place where the blueprints were buried, but the one labeled Dream just says this

and that’s it… I know, very exciting lol… though to be fair they told us the books were blank because they were going to fill them in later, but technically they lied lol. ;)

[lemotmo]

I can't believe this is an actual discourse, well actually I can, but if you would like to choose your fighter, I'm curious where you stand on the issue as well. For what it's worth this makes sense to me. I'm good with this. And the Buck girlie thing feels accurate.

Q. Do you believe Eddie is gay? And where do you stand on his relationship with Shannon?

A. So I will start by saying the fact that you all think this needs to be an actual sticking point is asinine to me. He's demi sexual. If you want to headcanon him as gay, knock yourself out. But the show isn't going to be that deep about it. As far as the show is concerned Eddie is going to have been in love with Shannon and now he'll be in love with Buck. That's it. And it's fine. But I believe he's demi. The first thing he always tells people is that Shannon was his best friend. Eddie needs an emotional connection to someone. The emotional connection is what allows him to feel everything else. But the show is not going to spend multiple episodes having Eddie realize he's gay and then declare he never really loved Shannon. That's not what's going to happen, and I don't know why you all believe it would or should happen. There's nothing wrong with him having genuinely been in love with Shannon. And even if he does end up being gay he can still have genuinely loved her. Him being gay does not erase Shannon. And she doesn't need to be erased for him to be in love with Buck. I say this as a Buck girlie, but this entire discourse feels like a set up to declare that Eddie isn't worthy of Buck if he ever loved anyone else. And we're not doing that. These are men in their 30's. They both have a past, and they have both loved other people. That's life. Eddie loving Shannon won't make his love for Buck less than. I'm not saying the show won't or can't have Eddie say that he loved her differently than he loves Buck but they don't need to do that. Eddie is allowed to love them both. You're asking a show that can't be bothered to know the age of their characters to be nuanced enough to tell a full-fledged sexuality storyline and that's not this show. Buck apparently doesn't even know he's bisexual yet. Eddie loved Shannon and he will love Buck. That will be how the show handles it. And that's fine. As long as it ends with Buck and Eddie together the labels should not matter. I understand that representation matters but that's not what this discourse is about and we all know that. But as far as I personally am concerned, Eddie is demi. Ryan is not going to do any Cameo videos encouraging one headcanon over the other so if you want to headcanon him as gay that's your right. I just don't think anyone should be demanding the show give him a hard stop label. Because I don't see them doing that.

Thank you Nonny!

For me the answer is pretty simple. I've ALWAYS believed Eddie is demisexual. All the signs are there.

He loved Shannon after he was her friend for a while. They made a connection first and then he fell in love. He went straight into dating Ana and Marisol, didn't make that connection of friendship first and, while he liked them, he never loved them.

And now he loves Buck. He was his friend first, they made that connection and then he fell in love. Only this time I don't think he realises he's in love. I think his love for Buck will hit him like a sledgehammer somewhere in 8b and I'm so here for it. 😋

I agree with Ali that they probably won't label him. They haven't really labeled Buck either and I don't see them doing it with Eddie. He'll just realise, maybe struggle for a while and finally accept that Buck is the one.

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[flightyalrighty]

Dont want this to be a waste of time but I'm gonna yell it out for most of these people bothering you lately

ITS A 17+ HORROR COMIC. Not expecting Gore or gruesome deaths is actually some crazy level of ignorance someone could have (trust me I've seen a lot of it) so if you hate with a passion your character dying, I got advice

1. Leave the comic alone

2. Write your own

3. Watch the actual source material if you hate characters dying for a story, trust me Sega would not let your fav character die

4. Don't bother the creator they have better things to do, its good to critic it but thats why theres a comment (notes) section, instead of bothering them with the literal ASK option.

And 5. this being a horror comic, and you finding out Sonic's best friend is dead, expect it to have a purpose in the story way beyond just "shock value"

Ever heard of the phrase "Let them cook" think and use it and trust me it will turn out great for ya when reading :)

All good points, all good points, though I will also contest your fourth point a bit: I think critiques should only be given to people actually asking for them. My goal right now isn't to practice and improve my art/storytelling, my primary objective here is to just tell the story. There will be other times for the former -- And the same idea can be extended, of course, to literally any other creator.

Anyway, yeah, as you said and as I've said before: Tails Was Not Killed For Shock Value. There Is A Purpose.

[shiratamahatsumiyo]

Azul Ashengrotto with a Bad Genius reader (Part 3)

• Azul didn't want to be cruel, no, that would be so insulting! An honor student like him? Cheat and blackmail? Haha! Oh, like aren't you any different. He hated you. No... He loathed even mentioning you.

• How could someone in his dorm, who's in lower status, be this much of a threat to him? You are the epitome of a behaved and well-mannered model student. Not only that, you have grades and intelligence far higher than anyone in class. Possibly surpassing Azul's. Now that is what's bothering him.

• The way you don't even need time to study about a certain subject for you already memorized the contents beforehand. The way you made zero effort during the physical activities in class for you already have learned sports. The way you just stood there quietly and minding your own business was enough for teachers to call you a model student... Azul despised that. He despised you.

.

.

.

{Ramshackle Dorm – Lounge}

BadGenius! Yuu: "Guys, what did I tell you about meetups? We almost got caught by Azul!"

Deuce: "W-we're so sorry!"

Ace: "I thought you said we'll meet you at your place!"

BadGenius! Yuu: "By my place I meant Ramshackle!"

Ace: "Why didn't you say so? We came all the way to Octavinelle just for you to kick us out?"

Deuce: "You should know better, Ace. They warned us about Azul."

Ace: "Like you're one to talk! You tagged along. Doesn't sound so honorable to me, Mr. Honor Student!"

Deuce: "Th-this is just only one time! It won't happen again..."

Grim: "Are we gonna start or what? I'm gettin' sleepy here 😾!"

BadGenius! Yuu: "I guess it can't be helped. Sorry for the misunderstanding, guys."

Random Heartslabyul Student: "Don't worry about it, BadGenius! Yuu 😅!"

Random Scarabia Student: "We should've back read the group chat 😓."

Random Pomefiore Student: "W-w-what if we get caught 😱?!"

Random Savanaclaw Student: "Geez, if you're so paranoid then don't come here in the first place 🙄."

Random Octavinelle Student: "Azul's already suspicious of us. Should we be alarmed 😦?"

BadGenius! Yuu: "No, I managed to convince him. Now that the issue's out of the way, let's get started, shall we?"

• The test was going to be hard, you knew it. All you did was help a classmate with their homework in exchange for money. When they finally understand the material, they gave you a suggestion – to start your own business. That business specifically involved memorizing answers in a much more simpler way. In fact, you don't need to memorize all of them, they just wait and you'll provide it. Even during the test, under watchful eyes.

• The Ramshackle Ghosts were kind enough to let you stay in the rundown dormitory. They also did you a favor of bringing an old unused piano, but it still works despite the harsh conditions. Your friends wondered why you brought them here to teach them piano lessons late at night instead of studying for the exam tomorrow. The students- or rather clients you have gathered, have asked you for tons of help that you can't teach all of them at the same time. So you just came up with an alternative.

BadGenius! Yuu: "Look, see this piano? I'll make small sequences of a song and you'll have to memorize all of it. At least four of them since the other half of the test is in multiple choice form."

Deuce: "......."

Ace: "....Hah?"

Grim: "Fnyagh... I thought you said there won't be any memorizing!"

BadGenius! Yuu: "There won't be any memorizing. Just familiarize the sounds. We will be given one hour to finish the test, yes? And we can't finish it at the same time. So I came up with a solution... The first half of the test paper will contain enumeration, identification, and a few equations. You will have to memorize only the first half of the test... The other half of the test paper will contain multiple choice questions, which means you'll be choosing which is the right answer."

• The students listened intently to your plan, some were yawning from how long your explanation is. You intend to wrap this up quickly so that all of you will at least have a decent amount of rest.

BadGenius! Yuu: "If you're either done answering the first half or not, wait until the long arm of the clock hits twelve. I'll automatically provide answers for you in the other half of the paper to write down during the test. Do not to tilt or turn your head in my direction. Just carefully listen to the tapping of my fingers on the desk. Memorize the sound sequence like the one I will play on this piano. And then identify which one is A, B, C, or D."

Random Octavinelle Student: "Ohh! I think I get it now 😮!"

Random Scarabia Student: "This is waaay more easier than signing a contract with Azul 😯!"

Random Pomefiore Student: "What if we'll get caught looking though 😰?"

Random Savanaclaw Student: "They just told you, DO NOT LOOK, JUST LISTEN. You're such an airhead 😑."

Random Pomefiore Student: "O-Oh right 😓."

Random Heartslabyul Student: "Wait a sec, won't the tapping sound the same 😧?"

BadGenius! Yuu: "They won't. I've tried it before on the classroom desks. Each desk give a clear sound. I've also cut the tips of of my fingernails to adjust the sound of the tapping. Here's an example..."

• You made yourself comfortable on a chair and thought of a simple song to play on the piano keys. You decided to play Für Elise by Beethoven and then tapped your fingers on the wood for comparison. Not a lot of people know about the song so it should be safe if the teacher doesn't recognize it.

BadGenius! Yuu: "The highest pitch is A.... This one is B.... This is C..... And lastly, the lowest pitch is D....."

• The students listened and observed the simple sequences. Their eyes lit up by how easy the sounds can be memorized. Soon, they were able to recognize each of them with their eyes closed. However, Grim and ADeuce were struggling.

BadGenius! Yuu: "Alright, now that you've familiarized the sequences, let's discuss the seating arrangements."

Deuce: "Huh?! There's more?!"

BadGenius! Yuu: "Yes. Everyone's level of hearing varies from person to person depending on the distance. If we can't hear the sounds correctly in case another student coughs or sneezes, we'll write the wrong answers."

Deuce: "U-Umm... I guess that makes sense."

BadGenius! Yuu: "There's also a drawback, we're gonna have to wake up early to occupy the seats before the others. Okay, now everybody grab your chairs. We'll start with... You. Since you're a beastman, your hearing is better."

Random Savanaclaw Student: "Naturally 😌."

BadGenius! Yuu: "So you'll be a bit farther from me tooo... There.... And you..."

Random Pomefiore Student: "Eh... Me 😧?"

BadGenius! Yuu: "Yes, you. You didn't hear me when I said not to turn or tilt your head during the exam, so obviously you'll be sitting near me.... Riiight here."

• As you begin placing everyone to their order of seating arrangements accordingly with everyone finally agreeing with you, the ADeuce and Grim were completely having trouble to understand and were left behind. They exited the lounge and went outside.

Ace: "... Did you get any of that?"

Deuce: "Yeah... no."

Grim: "Fnyagh... I thought this was gonna be easy."

Deuce: "It is easy. Just memorize the sounds. There's only four of them!"

Ace: "They'll only provide HALF of the test. We still have to do the other half on our own."

Deuce: "Hey, it's the least we could do. They've made the effort to arrange all of this so we might as well lift ourselves up."

Grim: "Great. I thought there wouldn't be any familiarizing cuz I thought they'll give the answers for the entire thing, not half of it! Fnyagh... It's too hard!"

Deuce: "I think they said something about our answers in the first half combined with the memorized other will equal to a passing score."

Ace: "If we can get it right! We don't have enough time to memorize the answers in the first half!"

Deuce: "Why don't we stop complaining and at least try--"

! F L I C K E R !

Deuce: "H-HUH?! GUYS, DID YOU SEE THAT?!"

Grim: "See what?"

Ace: "How can you even see anything? It's dark out here."

Deuce: "I could've sworn...!"

• Before Deuce can finish his sentence, you called out to them to get inside so you can properly seat them. Ace and Grim walked back with Deuce following behind. The boy glanced outside last time and went in the dorm. He could've swore he saw a flicker of something shiny...

.

.

.

Jade: "That was close one."

Floyd: "Eh~ so little Shrimpy wanna play games, huh Jade?"

Jade: "It seems so. I think it's time to report back to Azul, wouldn't you say?"

Floyd: "Yeah~ I'm gettin' bored."

• Unknowing to the students inside, a certain pair of eels cackled quietly, they've come to enjoy observing you but sadly this espionage has to end. Satisfied that they've gathered enough evidence, they shut the video camera, its lens shining in the dark, and left.

.

.

.

{Octavinelle Dorm – VIP Room}

• Azul was in a spiral. Getting paranoid by the minute, constantly overthinking things. Counting the contracts again and again did not help at all. But at the same time, he's getting impatient. Azul has to admit, he's come to like you and admires how your efforts made you come this far, but he likes the title of honor student more.

Floyd: "Azuuuul~ we're baaaack~!!"

Jade: "We're back."

Azul: "Good. Now where is it?"

Jade: "Oya? Is that how you thank us right after doing the work for you?"

Azul: "It doesn't matter now give it."

Floyd: "uughh, fiiine~!"

Jade: "How selfish of you, Azul 😊."

Floyd: "Yeah, how selfish~"

Azul: "Shut it."

• Jade handed over the video camera to Azul. The man snatched it and sat down. He rewind the footage from the day he ordered the Tweels to spy on you to the night before the exam. Jade and Floyd watched as a growing smile plastered itself on Azul's face. After the video ends, he let out a hysterical laugh. The twins grinned to themselves. Oh, this is going to be fun, they think.

Azul: "...ha... haha.... AHAHAHAHAHAHA!! FINALLY! NOW I'LL GET RID OF THEM ONCE AND FOR ALL!!! AHAHAHAHA!! EVERYTHING. WILL. BE. MINE!!!"

• Azul never should have given you that advice in the first place. Never in a thousand years did he think you would act that fast and now you've become a hindrance to his plans. It was a miscalculation, a big one. And he'll stop at nothing to bring you down. He needs to get rid of you before all of his own efforts go down the drain.

• Now what shall we do about those friends of yours, hm? How unfair of you to leave them out of your studies. Why don't he give them a hand?

To Be Continued...

[zadig-fate]

Not trying to wade too deep into the ongoing Jance debate (I've already reblogged people who've made the same argument I would)

But for those who interpret Nace's line in the film as him being tired/annoyed with the shipping stuff, I will point out:

That moment was filmed pre-Stožice while they were setting up the stage.

They made that "there's an ongoing conspiracy theory and it's all true" video while backstage before the show... so probably a few days AFTER the exchange we saw in the film.

If they really were tired of the shipping at that point, I doubt they would have thrown fuel on the fire with that video. So, at least at that time, I think it's fair to assume they were more amused than annoyed by it.

How they feel about it NOW... that's a different question. But at least during that moment in the film, I really think they were joking.

[corvidcall]

i very rarely get a sense of satisfaction from completing tasks. ive heard people say this is an ADHD thing, but idk. personally i think i might just be bad at being alive

[kaiserkisser]

today is such a stark contrast to yesterday in how much i fucking hate today (vent/rant in tags bc i forgor to do it on my vent one)

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!

[britneyshakespeare]

I can't believe the Younger Brother (1689) by Aphra Behn has the only one bed trope

[girlboy-frankensteins-monster]

books i read this january:

1. 'station eleven' by emily st. john mandel

5/5 stars — literally so good, such a great start to the year. i loved the writing style and the story and the characters and i am forever grateful to the friend of a friend who kept telling me i should read this because he was totally right and it's so good. definitely recommend this if you like apocalyptic stuff that's more an exploration of humanity than action/thriller

2. 'ghosts: the button house archives' by mathew baynton, simon farnaby, martha howe-douglas, jim howick, laurence rickard and ben willbond

3/5 stars — everything i wanted from a ghosts book tbh, loved getting to hear more about the characters but i would've liked a bit more serious stuff about fanny (this isn't really a criticism just wish there had been because she's such a compelling character to me)

3. 'i am malala' by malala yousafzai

4/5 stars — really good for anyone unfamiliar with pakistani culture and politics to help explain recent history as well as being genuinely very interesting. definitely recommend

4. 'heartstopper: volume 5' by alice oseman

3/5 stars — cute and nice to read as a queer british teenager, i like alice oseman's art a lot and i liked how she approached the topics discussed in it. only 3 stars just because like it doesn't really speak to me personally not because it isn't good or anything

5. 'never let me go' by kazuo ishiguro

4/5 stars — i have a weird relationship with his writing i feel like with both the books i've read by him the endings have just been a bit lacking for me? but not for a reason i can actually define and i still really liked the rest of the book and i really like his writing style as well

6. 'yellowface' by rebecca f. kuang

4/5 stars — not my favourite work by her but i found it really interesting to read. idk it's been quite controversial and i don't think i know enough about the issues discussed in the book to have an opinion but it did make me think about a lot of things i'd never really considered before which was why i found it interesting

7. 'gideon the ninth' by tamsyn muir

5/5 stars — this book was right up my street; i absolutely love gideon and the way the book's written. gideon and harrowhark's relationship was really compelling and i love the concept. if you read this book (please do) i would recommend that you read the glossary before you start the book because i spent at least the first 50 pages with no idea what was going on but after that it was amazing

8. 'the seven husbands of evelyn hugo' by taylor jenkins reid

3/5 stars — kind of just not my thing, sorry to all my friends who love it (none of them are on tumblr lol). i thought it was interesting but it just wasn't really my taste

9. 'tsunami girl' by julian sedgwick and chie kutsuwada

4/5 stars — i definitely didn't expect to enjoy this as much as i did but i actually really liked it the whole way through. the characters were great and i found the romance subplot way more well-written and believable than i expected (this might just be me because i'm a bit weird about reading relationships as romantic in books so a lot of straight romance where they sort of just expect you to pick up on it as romantic purely because it's a boy and a girl comes across as really flat to me and i end up just deciding that they're only friends to me whereas in this book i actually did read their relationship as romantic and wanted them to go out)

10. 'nation' by terry pratchett

5/5 stars — i think this is the first terry pratchett i've read other than good omens and i really, really enjoyed it. it took me a while to get into but i liked the characters and also found the sort-of-romance in this believable which was cool. also just really interesting to be honest, i recommend this as well