#unfortunately it’s three hours from me

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]

a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious

i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me

as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy

[viric-dreams]

Trying to sleep whilst simultaneously letting some potential lore scenes for future writing/art run in the back of my mind produces some truly unsettling results.

Under no circumstances would Roberts be court martialed for treason. Officer Beverley seems to understand this, but his logic is entirely backwards. Framed by the glow of the fireplace, Beverley leans back against the sole chair in his spartan lodgings and explains what he’s so sure is going to happen. If Roberts does not comply he intends to go to the London admiralty, to let them in on his missing time, the new player making waves in Anarchist circles, the lies at the foundation of his very existence. He seems to think that the Dark-Spectacled Admiral has the power to land him in political scandal.

His letters will never reach the Admiral. Roberts knows this with the same certainty that he knows the Dawn Machine burns in the Southwest. Beverley’s contact is the Voracious Diplomat. He’s trying to be cagey about it, but Roberts has seen the letterhead, shoved quickly into a drawer whenever they need the space on the desk to work. And the Diplomat would never let such a tidbit go to the Admiral, not when it’s worth so much more on Grand Geode.

Roberts was there for the Luminous Plot of ‘69. In fact, he had been the one to ensure that its perpetrators would never find a way to return from the slow boat, no trial, sham or otherwise. As he and the Commodore stood against the gunwhale and watched their cement-laden bodies sink into the Zee, the Commodore turned to him.

“You wouldn’t betray me, would you, Elias?”

The expression on his face is clouded, as if already playing through and wounded by the possibility in his mind. It feels like being thrown into ice water.

“Of course not, sir!”

The very idea is appalling. Surely the Commodore doesn’t truly believe it’s in the realm of the possible—not when the very idea makes his skin prickle. He’s the Commodore’s man, through and through, dedicated to both him and the Work.

The Commodore smiles, his golden eyes suddenly kind.

“That's what I thought. You wouldn’t do such a thing,” his hand reaches out to pat his shoulder, “Not from my most loyal midshipman.”

He can’t help but flush at the praise. Hopefully, the deck’s dim lighting covers it. But it hardly matters, for the Commodore turns away, gazing into the waves where they’d thrown the traitors not minutes ago. Roberts thinks the conversation is at its end when the Commodore starts again, eyes never leaving that fixed point on the Zee’s surface.

“If you did betray me, of course, I wouldn’t kill and feed you to the dawn flukes. That would be too easy of an end. Instead, I’d weld you into our smallest zub and ship you to Anthe. Who knows,” he shrugs, “you might just even have enough supplies to make it.”

He can’t breathe, his lungs are frozen in his chest. The image is all too real—trapped in that metal coffin, hardly able to move. Through the icy panic, all he can feel is the frantic hammering of his heart and the sharp twinge of the muscle of his left thigh, where the scarred skin puckers above it. The Commodore wouldn’t. Of course he wouldn’t. Right? He has to take a breath. He needs to respond. It’s been too long. His silence might be taken for suspicious.

“There’s no need for that, I assure you.” The words come out whole, though his voice is frailer than he’d like. The Commodore is studying him now. Roberts isn’t sure whether or not he can meet his gaze, what the Commodore might see on his face. After a moment the Commodore nods.

“I didn’t think so. But you never know.” With that, his mouth slides into a grin, demeanour changing like night and day. “We’d best get back soon. There’s work to be done back on base. I’ll alert the navigator.”

Roberts sees the hand coming soon enough to not flinch when it lands on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring shake, before the Commodore is off, already descending the ladder.

He takes a deep breath and steadies himself, chasing the claustrophobic phantasm from his mind. The Commodore is right—there’s work to be done.

Truth be told, he’s not entirely paying attention to the details of Beverley’s demands. He doesn’t have to, when he already knows he’ll agree to whatever he says. It’s clear as dawnlight what he must do. The Officer seems almost surprised by how easily Roberts acquiesces, but that surprise soon turns to barely-concealed delight as the scientific possibilities unfold before him. He’s already turned away from Roberts and back to the schematics, searching for a pen to record the newest thoughts.

It’s truly a shame, Roberts thinks, hand reaching behind him for the fireplace poker, to have to lose such a promising engineer. But treachery is something that the New Sequence cannot tolerate.

Beverley doesn’t even see it coming until the instant he brings the iron poker down across his skull.

[loverboybrightsideghost]

the will to practice leaving my soul after i get good jury comments

[xamaxenta]

The agonies of art return to plague me

[salsa-ishida]

you're back!! it's been so long!! I missed you <3 <3

ahhhh I missed you too!! Life has been insistent on grinding me to a paste but we perservere

[pharaohbean]

college (-ish) intro pt. 2:

had literature and calc today. lit teacher ghosted us until like today (in terms of icollege) and then turned out to be the assistant prof of english at college. this made me laugh. it made sense but ALSO REALLY FUNNY. he was also the one teacher who was explicit about wanted us to succeed. teachers please tell your students that more it makes me feel happy. as for lit textbooks, teacher will be providing them as we go. thank you prof.

calc professor: mistook him for a student at first (which isnt an unreasonable assumption bc this college purposefully caters to working adults too so) and then he went to the teacher's desk. and yeah he was the teacher lol. i also think he's vaguely terrified of me bc i answered like 2/3rds of his questions (turns out if you take AP calc BC the year before, you're pretty darn set for college-level Calc I!). and yeah he told us to pay for the textbooks lol.

[dizzyp0p]

ghost of you(r kiss)

Summary: Some not-so-friendly neighbors make a few warranted threats.

Chapter 2

“They’re loud. Like you.”

Since there was no food in the mansion (much to the shock of everyone, oddly enough), the sextet decided they should all go out to eat somewhere and then go grocery shopping. It gave them an opportunity to explore the small town and they were even able to spot the beach in the distance which excited the girls in particular. And Peter. And James too.

Remus was more interested in finding a bookstore. Really, that was the least surprising thing to James but to everyone else (except Lily of course who was practically Remus²) it was inconceivable.

“I bet there’s one around here somewhere,” James said looking around the town as the group of them walked through the streets.

The town was quaint and quiet. The air smelled of salt from the ocean. From where Black Manor stood in the small town, the ocean waves could be heard and to James, they sounded marvelous . They were practically beckoning for him and the rest of his friend group to go and run themselves into the water. James was all for going to the beach that day but Lily and Remus, ever the voices of reason, convinced the group that their best bet would be to stock up on what they didn’t have in their temporary home.

“We can go to the beach any other day, either way,” Lily offered reasonably, which was met with disgruntled agreements.

Continue reading on AO3!

[badolmen]

So funny how trauma will just kick you in the fucking teeth with the most random triggers.

[funnelcloudd]

#39 & #7 <3

29. My favorite pasta noodle shape is cavatappi!!!

7. I really enjoy the tropical fish at the aquarium, I like the ones that come up and look at you. Everybody goes crazy over the sharks or dolphins or whatever but I’m like. Hi fishie.

[lestbian]

just had the worst experience ever im going to pass away now.

[douubles]

pierce the veil world tour: 😍

only san francisco or la: 😐

[jacksallys]

x

[thiefnessman]

if i could be normal and not weird and clingy and obsessive about people that would be great

[oceantornadoo]

inspired by a dramoine fic i read! simon riley x f!reader

it’s the third time today someone has handed you simon’s paperwork and you’re starting to get confused. in fact, there’s the distinct feeling that you’ve missed a memo.

first, it was the visiting captain, so you couldn’t blame him for confusing lieutenants. but then it was johnny turning in his mission report, muttering something about “cannae be late this time if ah give it ye, lass.” which was odd, considering you weren’t his direct report (you were gaz’s). but what really sent you over the edge was getting called into price’s office and being met with a load of folders addressed to one Lt. Ghost (Confidential).

“sir, i’m a bit confused as to why you can’t just give these to him yourself.” price looked up from his desk, eyes flickering from under his boonie hat. “hav’ you seen ‘im today, lieutenant?” you nodded immediately while trying to scoop all of this paperwork (that was not yours!) into your arms. “yessir, i saw him before breakfast and then during training and then…what?” price had silently quirked an eyebrow, his beard echoing the movement. “i haven’t seen ‘im all day, so i figure it’s faster for you to deliver since you’re more well-versed in his movements than i am.” huh. “i’m sure he’s just doing his ghost thing, y’know? slipping into shadows and…”, price patiently gave you an exasperated look, “but i’ll get these to him, sir. see you later!”

the problem was, you knew exactly where simon was. in your office.

his own had an unfortunate ground level window near the track, so he was always complaining about nosy recruits until you offered to share some office space. temporarily, of course. it’s not like you were using all the empty space anyways and it made it much easier to get the opinion of your fellow lieutenant on a report by walking over to his desk, rather than going up and down stairs. that was the second point he made, and who were you to say no?

after pushing open your office door, you beelined for simon’s desk, dumping the stacks of folders on his desk. “wot’s this?” his mask was off so you could see his eyes widen at the mess of papers. “everyone now thinks i’m a drop off box for your paperwork, so i got burdened with all of this when i was doing my rounds.” he nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his tea. “cheers, love.”

“what do you mean, cheers? don’t you think it’s odd for them to give me your paperwork? and why do we even have so much paperwork? i swear im drowning in it this week.” he snorted at your last sentence, opening the first folder in front of him while you rounded your desk, sitting in your comfy chair with a hmpf. “yer out an’ about more than me, tha’s all.” well, that was true. the infamous ghost was not known to be a sociable person on base. “i guess…” you turned to your old radio, passed down by a retired captain, and turned on simon’s favorite classical station.

“ya want mess or the pub tonight, love?” another great thing about being on base with simon - you never had to pay for dinner. “actually, that thai place we like is doing a special tonight.” he gave you a half-smirk, one cheek ticking up. “bloody raccoon. we had thai two nights ago.” you didn’t respond, instead blinking your best impression of puppy dog eyes at him. simon sighed, then shook his head at his desk. “olrigh’. the things i do.” you smiled and winked, dipping your head back down to your desk. “thanks, si.”

-

two weeks later, you were prepping for a duo mission with simon. price had been grilling the two of you for the past three hours, making sure you had everything memorized. satisfied, he leaned back in his office chair and rubbed his temples, the feeling of a headache coming on. “one more thing.” both of you snapped your head up at price, desperate to leave and eat. you’d already missed dinner and your stomach was complaining.

“the safe house is pretty small, basically a shack. one bed, no couch. i assumed ‘s fine since y’r datin-“ “‘s fine, captain.” simon cut him off, an out of character move that had you frowning. “it’s fine, cap. not like ive never slept on a floor before.” now price was frowning at what you said. he turned to simon, who shook his head imperceptibly before becoming still again. price’s brow furrowed but he didn’t push further. he got up from his chair, eyes flitting suspiciously between you two. “i’ll see you at 0600.”

“what was that about?” you whispered to simon after as you walked down the hall. “‘s nothin’.” you were missing something but it was so unclear what. “he thinks that we’re datin-“ “said it’s nothin’, sweetheart. he’s an old man. let’s get some food in you, yeah?” you nodded, letting him guide you to the kitchen. price wasn’t that old. and you were not dating simon riley.

-

the mission was beautiful, your best one in years. it was the first duo mission between you and simon, so the nerves of pulling your own weight had settled in hard. thankfully, your skills balanced each other out and you’d gotten the target in record time. now, all you had to do was wait in the safe house for exfil.

“you were so good.” you whispered once he’d locked the door. he only hummed a response, checking exit and entry points while you set up your packs, scrounging up MREs and testing the shack for electricity. price wasn’t kidding - it was practically a studio apartment. one bed, a bathroom and a decrepit stove. the soldier part of you was fine with it, but that small soft part of you ached for the warmth of your apartment. memories of yelling at simon for using all your shampoo even though he didn’t live there, of him running you a bath after a long day of training.

“you were good too, baby.” he snuck up from behind your spot on the floor and lifted you onto the mattress that had definitely seen better days. you hadn’t even checked it for bed bugs yet. “c’mere.” he pulled you into his lap, unbuckling your tac vest as you pulled off your bandana. you tugged off his mask - the hard shell since you were on a mission - and ran your nails through his short haircut. simon started kissing your neck, wet and sloppy like he couldn’t get enough. the unrestrained want he displayed sometimes scared you. the respective pulsing in both your chest and cunt scared you more.

“so are you sleeping on the floor or am i?” he flipped you over, your back flush with the mattress as simon loomed over you. there was still eyeblack around his eyes, caught on his blonde eyelashes as well, and you couldn’t help the hand that reached up to brush some of it away. “y’r funny, sweetheart.” you grinned at that - a real toothy smile. he bent down to kiss you, scarred lips caressing your own. simon bit your lip and you moaned, sliding your legs out from under him to wrap them around his torso. when you tugged him in he went willingly, grinding into your clothed cunt. his tac vest was still on, scraping against your shirt, hardening your nipples.

“keepin’ you in this bed all night.” cold fingers dipped past the waist of your pants. you were already wet, his fingers sliding easily up and down your slit as they warmed up. that’s when you realized he still had his glove on, his movements harsher than normal. wide eyes met his own, and simon stopped so you could make a decision.

it didn’t take much as you dug your heels into his back harder, meeting him in a sloppy kiss as his gloved thumb played with your clit. “fuckin’ made for me.” he whispered, and you chalked it up to dirty talk because obviously, you weren’t together. he just knew exactly what to do, giving your clit the right amount of pressure as his other fingers teased your hole, the stretch burning more than usual. it only took a few flicks and you were off, your orgasm settling through your bones like a warm cup of tea. “jesus, si.” he grinned, his scarred lips pulling up to show a beautiful smile. “know ya like th’ back of my hand, huh?” you shook your head, capturing the idiot in another kiss.

-

after the mission, after debrief and a hot shower, you made your way back to your base office. thankfully, paperwork had only slightly piled up. one envelope stood out though - a thick card-stock with glossy, swooping letters. an invite to london’s military gala, addressed to a Lieutenant & Lieutenant. simon’s name was next to yours, connected by a singular symbol. you turned to him in disbelief. simon had been going through his own backlog, but his head snapped up under the focus of your glare.

“simon, are we…dating?”

-

this was fun!!! check out the fic i linked it was so good and i couldn’t put it down.

[tonycries]

Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.

Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.

“You’ve never what?”  

“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.

---

Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you. 

He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.

It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.  

Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.

The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.

Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any. 

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?

Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”

And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears. 

After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day. 

But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.

Oh. 

Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. 

Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.

He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.

“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”

“Bye, crybaby.”

And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting. 

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”

“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter. 

Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?” 

No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question. 

Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-

“Man, are you even listening?” 

Shit. 

Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.

Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!” 

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”

God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane. 

Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.

“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?

“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”

Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”

“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is. 

Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”

You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. 

Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-

Click! 

“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”

You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”

His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”

“Dad, I’m running away.”

That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact. 

It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad. 

Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah. 

Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.” 

“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart. 

“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”

“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”

“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.

“Cho.”

“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful. 

And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.

“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”

“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”

“I don’t know either of you two.”

It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod. 

He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”

Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”

“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years. 

“I don’t know what you-”

“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”

And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”

Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”

Raising a brow, “What?”

“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”

“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years. 

“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”

Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way. 

“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’. 

Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”

“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet. 

Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him. 

Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night. 

“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.

“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”

Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him. 

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”

He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.

“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-

“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit. 

“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you. 

You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”

“You know…”

“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy. 

“Choso.”

Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted. 

Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”

And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”

And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-

“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”

And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole. 

“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-

“Use me.”

Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”

“Use me.”

There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch. 

And, well, how could you say no to that?

Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth. 

And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now. 

So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.

You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”

And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard. 

Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high. 

“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”

The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”

“No.”

You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”

Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway. 

“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss. 

Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor. 

And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this?  He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls. 

You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”

Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him. 

“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”

You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him. 

He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass. 

“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”

“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good. 

“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”

A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”

You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”

“Mhm?”

“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”

Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now. 

“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.

“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours. 

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl. 

And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.

Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base. 

“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below. 

“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now. 

“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”

And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years. 

Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with. 

It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken. 

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go. 

“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”

“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX

-Jin.

Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still 

Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX

-Jin.

Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else? 

Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER 

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.

[peachsukii]

— I’ll be home for Christmas

it's the annual friend circle christmas party, hosted at kirishima and mina's apartment. the only downside? your boyfriend, bakugo, is stationed overseas for hero work, so this year, you'll be celebrating through a screen. at least, that's what you're expecting.

✮ content. pro hero!bakugo + pro hero!reader. christmas magic and fluff. :) a special present for my elf @lady-lauren as part of the @pixelcafe-network secret santa exchange. ♡ ♡ ♡ ✮ word count: 1.1k.

Christmas Eve, the night of a traditional Christmas dinner with all of your closest friends. A pot luck buffet, secret Santa exchange, and plenty of laughs through the night as you all reminisce over your lives. There’s just one thing that’s missing this year — Bakugo. Well, missing in person.

It was an opportunity of a lifetime, one he couldn’t turn down, no matter how much he argued against it. An esteemed agency in California was accepting applications for international transfers as part of the new “Heroes Around the World” program. It wasn’t that he wasn’t thankful, or even uninterested, but Bakugo’s biggest fear was being alone. Being away from you, especially in another country. After many nights spent hyping him up to take the chance, he accepted the offer. Before you two knew it, he was jetting off to the USA for three months.

And, unfortunately, three months turned to six.

Bakugo’s not coming home until March. The US commission was so impressed by his skillset (because why wouldn’t they be?) and wanted him to train an entire new wave of sidekicks by crafting a program to mimic Japan’s Hero protocols. You couldn’t bring yourself to be selfish and have him come home, no matter how much you missed him. So, you two made it work — 17 hour time difference be damned. Early morning voice notes, late night video calls, quick texts and even little homemade letters from time to time. Bakugo became fond of your hand written letters, especially when the paper would faintly smell of your perfume or have traces of lipstick kiss marks.

When you show up to Kirishima and Mina’s home, they welcome you with open arms, chirping how they’re happy you came and how much they’ve missed you.

Everyone starts arriving over the next hour, greeting you with warmth and love like always. It’s not long until their apartment is jam packed with all of your closest friends, shuffling around the kitchen with delicious food and drinks. Everyone shoves a present under the tree in the living room for later, truly adding a layer of joy to the atmosphere. Your heart aches softly as the night progresses, missing Bakugo’s hand on your thigh under the table or around your shoulders as you chat and laugh with everyone. The plan is to have Bakugo video call Kirishima’s phone during the secret Santa exchange, that way he’d still be included when everyone swapped presents. It’ll be 2AM for him, but he insisted it’s fine.

There’s a little pang in your chest when you look under the luminescent tree in the living room and see the one with his handwriting for Jiro. ‘To: Ears — Love: Kats’ with a skull drawn next to it. It’s endearing to see his love for your friends extend across the sea so effortlessly. Midoriya takes a seat next to you on the couch before everyone else meanders into the living room for the secret Santa exchange. His eyes gleam when they meet yours, a smile tugging on his lips and accentuating the freckles on his cheeks. “How are you doing?”

You nod and tilt your head with a soft smile of your own. “It’s nice to get out and be with friends. Being home for the holidays without Katsuki was starting to get to me.”

Midoriya’s eyes soften. “I know it’s hard. Only a few more months!” Before you get a chance to think too deeply about it, Kirishima claps his hands to get everyone to quiet down.

“Alright guys! Time to exchange presents.” He pulls out his phone and sets it on the dock by the TV, the little screen displaying a pending ‘Call’ screen. It’s not long before a familiar face appears, the room erupting in a hearty cheer.

“Bakugo!”

“Shut up, don’t all yap at once!” Bakugo grumbles with a grin on his handsome face. It seems his eyes find you in the room as you shoot him a little wave, his grin settling into a longing smile. “Kirishima, get things rollin’ before my ass falls asleep.”

The room chuckles as gifts are starting to be exchanged, anything from cute pairs of socks to video games to awkward stocking stuffers. No other presents are lining the tree skirt after a half hour of celebration, but you’re left empty handed. It’s awkward, to say the least.

“Are we missing one?” Kirishima questions with a frown. “There’s no way we left you out.”

Bakugo’s face sours on the phone screen, immediately upset that you’re excluded from the tradition. “What the hell? Someone better fess up. Don’t screw with my girl’s Christmas.” Suddenly, the video freezes and hangs up, leaving everyone silent as they turn towards you. How the hell could this happen?

“Why don’t you check the entryway?” Mina advises. “Maybe it was left there by mistake.”

You stand from the couch with defeat, sulking toward the door to double check. Who had you for secret Santa? Did they not know what to get for you, or were you truly forgotten? After a quick glance in the doorway, you come up short. Guess you won’t be getting a gift this year after all.

When you return to the living room, everyone seems to be staring at you with an apologetic look on their faces. Your head is hung low, aimlessly wandering back to the couch as you plop back down on to the plush fabric.

“No luck,” you whisper. “It’s okay, though. It’s not a big deal.”

The room is silent until someone speaks up.

“Look again.”

Wait. You know that voice.

It has you whipping your head up, looking around desperately to be sure you’re not hearing things. Like magic, Bakugo appears from behind the Christmas tree in the living room, his cheeky smirk illuminated by the bright string lights.

“Merry Christmas,” Midoriya whispers next to you, his eyes glossing over with emotion. “Sorry for tricking you!”

Before you know it, you’re launching off the couch and skipping over to Bakugo, throwing your arms around him excitedly. He picks you up, swinging around in soft circles, squeezing you tight enough to take your breath away. Once he sets you down, you pull back to look at him.

“Katsuki, how—”

Bakugo cuts you off with a kiss, cradling your face in his hands. After a moment, he releases you, all the love in your body flourishing at his touch.

“Commission gave me five days off. M’all yours,” he whispers, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “Izuku pulled some strings to get those corporate assholes to approve it.”

You turn toward Izuku, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before burrowing your face into Bakugo’s chest. God, you’ve missed the way he smells, his warmth…everything about him.

“Okay you creeps, stop starin’ already,” Bakugo jests to the group. Everyone shouts with glee, the party continuing in full swing with the whole family together — at last.

This is a Christmas you’ll never forget.

Merry Christmas, Lauren!! I hope you enjoyed it. With much love from your secret Santa, Rei <3

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