#What to do if You Suspect Yourself

[icarrymany]

the mh comics open up such an interesting narrative for our few surviving characters. to them, what happened in the videos was real, but to everyone else its a cool creative web series. when all of that is viewed as fiction, fans have a freedom to speculate about and invade the lives and privacy of real people. and that would be so uncomfortable and terrifying. imagine someone irl having headcanons about YOU. writing fan fiction about you and your real friends. assuming things about you PUBLICLY ! IN MASS!

wouldnt it be so cool to see a character grapple with that in like a self-reflective way? fans asking questions the muse is too afraid to ask themselves. of course, theyre the only person the answer matters to.

#like wouldnt it be so strange not only to see the terrible things that happened to u have a FANBASE #but also people wondering about the intricacies of your personal life (they view you as a character and have no idea it was real) #and youre disgusted and afraid of prying eyes #but at the same time #you never think about yourself much anyways (too painful) and realize you might HAVE TO if ur gonna be okay with what happened #spoilers um this is about. jam. #tim never took the time to deconstruct how he felt in the moment because he was trying not to die #even if he concludes he harbored some feelings (like people online suspect) what would he even do with that? #he can never go back and change it. but he can say it to himself. its something for him that nobody else NEEDS to know #but now he can understand himself a little better n form new connections #its like a culmination of my hatred for some fans NEED for things to be canon when its much more fun to leave stuff open-ended #and also my love for media adressing this in a way that actually says something abt the way we consume it #yall seen the craig and tweek episode of south park? yeah.

[pastafossa]

How do you get past writer's block? I have a fic that I'm working on that is updating on a schedule, and I made the mistake of giving myself a month off in between parts and now I can't really get back into writing it. I don't want to leave it abandoned because I have a few people who I know are really invested and I don't want to leave them hanging, but I'm having a hard time getting as excited to write it as I did before.

Ok so I'm in a weird place for this, hilariously. Because The Answer That Usually Works For Me (TM) and that carried me through a regular weekly update schedule for almost two and a half years is, in fact, not at present working for me apparently my brain can write through a pandemic but not through recovery from the shit that went down in December/Jan so we found my writing kryptonite. However, I'm going to assume you're closer to 2021 Pasta than 2024 Pasta. SO LET'S GO WITH THE METHOD I NORMALLY USE SINCE IT WAS SUCCESSFUL FOR YEARS. Cause that's the thing: sure, I've written almost a million words, and pumped out chapters for years (ignoring the past few months) but I promise, I hit the same walls as everyone else even when nailing weekly uploads. But over those years, I came up with a fairly solid list of steps that I'd go through one by one.

Fun one first: when I'm in a block, I almost always try re-engaging with canon first. I'd rewatch my favorite episodes, binge a whole season, or even the whole series depending on how much of a boost I needed. For me at least that was often like Pavlov's bell, my favorite story triggering a flood of affection. I'd remember why I loved this fandom and the characters so much, and it could often kickstart my brain and excitement back into gear. If you really want to dangle a carrot and your fic touches on canon, focus on watching parts you're excited to get to in your story. A big one for me in TRT for example was the post-Nobu, Nelson v. Murdock episode, since I'd had that planned for TRT almost since the start, and I was very excited to reach the hurt/comfort I had planned. Even if your fic isn't following canon though, see if it'll give you a creative rush again!

So let's say step 1 doesn't work, either because the canon just isn't hitting the spot or because your fic is dealing with something else. In this case, my next step was usually to jump ahead to write a scene I was really eager to get to. It was often a short blurb, but it was always something I REALLY wanted to explore, and because I'm also a reader who likes exactly the tropes and plots I'm writing, I want to read what fucking happens. Except, fuck, I'm not there yet, am I? And I can't see how that scene finishes until I write my way up to it and finish it. This is my own carrot. Multiple scenes in TRT were written months or even years in advance, simply as a way to bribe myself. This is also an option!

But maybe this doesn't work. Sometimes it didn't. This is when it got a bit more serious. For anyone who was reading at the time, you'd have noticed that I'd sometimes drop side fics, either Matt POVs or one-shots. This was me, in essence, working on the shower principle (basically, ideas/solutions will come if you stop thinking about it and do something else, like take a shower). I figured if I went and wrote something else - either with less stress, or something fun and dopamine-inducing - the part of my brain focused on my Big Fic would wander around the writer's block beneath my notice. And it almost always worked, all while I still kept my brain trained that, hey, even if we're not writing This Thing, we're still writing.

But let's say this doesn't work either. You're well, and truly, stuck. Been there now and then. And, you're going to hate this one. I hate it but it works 9 times of 10. And it is: Write anyway. Half of it was spite. I was not going to give up my schedule, I liked my schedule. The other half was that I knew myself. I knew if I could just get past the chapter/plot/dialogue I was struggling with, I'd be able to roll along again. And so I made a rule: whatever I wrote didn't have to be pretty. It just had to exist. If that meant I wrote, "Jane chased the cat in circles and caught it. She was happy." then that's what I wrote. Because everything, EVERYTHING, can be fixed in editing. But you can't fix what doesn't exist. And so there were those nights when I would scowl and groan and snarl and bash my head against that writer's block until 5 in the morning, but in the end Jane chased that fucking cat adn caught it, it was written. Hilariously, sometimes those chapters have wound up amazing (likely because I spent so much time hammering at them) and reader favorites. There are absolutely, I believe, moments where you can, and should, see if you can push through.

But that brings me to *waves* now. A lesson I've only recently recently and with encouragement. Namely... sometimes brain no go and that's ok. My steps work for me 99.9% of the time, but I've done the above during the past few months, and it just... hasn't dragged me out entirely out of it yet. Sometimes, our brains demand that break, especially when things just aren't going great. There's a reason TRT had a break of roughly 2 years between chapter 4 and chapter 5 (feel free to check the chapter index with dates on AO3!). I had some life things happening and I just was not in a place to write, even if I was still busily plotting and planning and thinking about TRT behind the scenes. And that was ok. We're not machines. I came back like a bulldozer in Jan 2021, yes, and bulldozed through weekly updates, but that break was needed. And now I'm obviously taking a short one again while I recover from everything. It's ok if you're not in a place for it. So the last step is one I've been told a lot by dear friends recently as they helped me through this: be kind to yourself, and try not to stress if none of the above works. The story will always be there, and if TRT is any indication through all its highs and lows, your readers will be there when you start up again.

#writer's block #i am on step five if that's not obvious and that's ok #steps 1-4 got me through about 2 years of writing and over a hundred chapters. damn near a mill words. #so i'm VERY confident it works most of the time #or it does for me anyway #just. you know. not all the time #what's funny is i suspect if you read all of trt knowing the above #you'll SEE these moments #moments where i clearly hit a chapter i'd written ahead of time cause it had more detail or more excitement radiating in my notes #alternatively no one has any idea which ones are which which is even funnier to me #look i do not judge *anyone* who just can't do weekly chapter #the pandemic was a weird period where i had the time to do that and the management required to keep up with it outside then is intense #like it's possible. i was doing it before shit started going sideways last year cause that was NOT my year basically from july onwards #but just be kind to yourself about it #the story will come #and your readers will be there for it

[mejomonster]

On a serious note, I do feel mysterious case lotusbook has a lot of sincere themes about getting older, realities of responsibility and dreams realized, how it's difficult to succeed and not always the direct path one expects, how there's value in little aspects of life. Almost every li lianhua scene seems to be about that to some degree. The murder cases aren't particularly deep as far as super complicated to figure out or Able to be predicted super well (since they don't always give all the details in the initial setup), but the themes about who was killed and why do connect to li lianhuas situation.

#mysterious lotus casebook #lb #by all this i mean: a lot of the positive things li lianhua AND di feisheng say are fairly good advice tbh #like a fei? hes like you need to be fair in your decisions for your actions to be worthwhile and earned #li lianhua: sometimes being the one taking all responsibility was bad for you and the people you led who felt burdened #by You taking the burden. and stepping back can be a respectable choice. #cooking is more difficult than fighting. keeping yourself alive is Hard and its the hardest thing we do #and its admirable even when youll never be a hero never be able to achieve what those around you might #your peers are worthwhile if they choose diffetently than you (qian wanmian isnt lesser for not choosing to lead a sect and instrad #dissolving it. di feisheng doesnt think li lianhua is no longef worth his time even though hes weaker now. li lianhua is still someonr he #wants to see alive see brlieve in himself see passionate about things. the monks think its never too late to #reconnect to people again. that people who love you will want you and accept you even when you fail. #even fang duobing by knowing li lianhua gets the experience of someone who wants him alive #and fondly smiles and Is proud of him. evrn if hes learning and fails and moody #fond of him in a way his family wasnt that strangers lied about due to his status #in a way that he clung to li xianyi for ALSO seeing value in him when he felt he didnt live up to expectstions of the world #its the Kindness of little moments of acceptance. of being kind to yourself and kind to others (even down to #not wantjng to kill suspects but take them to trial. not wanting scapegoats blamed. which arent usually done in wuxia) #its the fact this show is quite about gentleness and healing (i see the Love and Redemption screen writing ismilarities) #rather than about power struggles. do you know what i mean?

[suddenfossilfightersheadcanons]

Frontier Branch Leaders, pt. 3: Drake and Liu Ren

Pt. 1: Background Information

Pt. 2: Sean

Drake

-I stated in an earlier post on this blog that he's 27. Please forget that. He's probably on the cusp of 39 (circa 2015, at the beginning of Frontier).

-Originally from Sweden; moved to Copenhagen a few years before Frontier started.

-Absolutely hates the sensation that occurs when he enters his ancestral battle trance. To him, it's as being possessed, not to mention being utterly exhausting. Starting in his teens, he'd often have periods of abruptly losing control of this trance, and lashing out, sometimes violently, against tormentors and, in worse cases, family. Violet's interest in mysticism allowed her to help him work out what was going on, and slowly learn to detect when a wave of possession was imminent.

-Loves his Ankylo BO because he needn't fear injuring it during one of his trances. He feels most comfortable around padded and armoured vivosaurs.

-For a long time, he tried, desperately, to minimise the length of time he had to spend around children and, by extension, the youngest of the Wardens. He's terrified of hurting people accidentally. Moreover, he finds most people too loud, too much, too extraverted to deal with.

-Has a surprisingly excellent relationship with Sean, who quickly worked out that Drake was intensely sensitive to Sean's typical loudness. As such, Sean usually drops his volume around Drake, and where possible, emails or texts him, instead of talking, on bad days. When Drake's overloaded trying to handle the caseload that comes with managing not only Europe, but also cases in Africa, Sean will often offer to take over some of Drake's more menial duties. Drake, in return, bakes for him, and brings him odd fossil trinkets and weird rocks.

-Despite how much he hates loud people, he loves Scandinavian death metal.

-Known to abuse the World Gate to conveniently escape people. ('Sorry I can't come to your birthday, friend. I'm in Chile right now.')

-Suffered significantly with OCD from childhood, being at his worst in his teens and mid-twenties. He waited for almost 15 years before finally seeking help. While he still has intrusive thoughts and compulsions, they're far better managed now. His social anxiety is also significantly better than it once was.

-Was diagnosed with autism at age 4. Will scream if someone enters his office unexpectedly.

-Has some of the same powers as Violet—however, while she can communicate with spirits and occasionally see the future, he can merely hear spirits and detect psychic energy, but can't actually manipulate them well. Generally, if he can hear his ancestors chattering, he knows his bloodthirsty side is about to take over.

-Blows off frustration by punching pillows. If he punches walls instead, he will leave cracks in the plaster.

-Speaks Swedish and Danish fluently, as well as German and English proficiently. Has a very, very strong accent.

-Visits Switzerland all too often for the sole sake of buying too much Toblerone. Violet can and will raid his supply if there's any left by the time he returns to Fossil Park Europe, so he has about three days to consume everything he buys before she can find him.

-INTP 6w5 sp/sx.

Liu Ren

-Originally from Shanxi. Swears he's forty-eight years old, but Drake and Violet both detect a particular spiritual energy coming from him that's far too immense for him to be a normal forty-something. Writes exclusively in traditional Chinese, never mind that simplified characters have been in use since well before the 80s. Moreover, he's clearly far smarter than he lets on. Violet and Drake are both absolutely certain he's at least a century old, and aren't entirely sure he's human.

-Writes his name as 劉仁, but Violet swears that certain Qing-dynasty documents by 劉陽磊, a mystic and self-proclaimed witch, give off the same energy as Liu Ren's own writings.

-Fluent in Mandarin, Cantonese, six other Chinese dialects, English, and Portuguese.

-Tends to playfully rib Tria for her extremely strong Sichuan accent.

-Consumes obscene amounts of Sprite and Coca-Cola. Nobody knows how his teeth are still intact.

-When other Wardens get injured, he'll tell them to cheer up, and inevitably have a story of a similar injury. As such, he's been poisoned, burned, bruised, and broken over and over. Nobody knows how he's had time to suffer all these abuses, let alone recover.

-Drake and Sean both overtly dislike him. In part, it's that Fossil Park Asia has a longstanding rivalry with Fossil Park America, and that rivalry means that Sean tends to interpret Liu Ren's gestures as patronising, instead of circumspect, and Liu Ren thinks Sean to be green and overconfident. Drake's suspicions about Liu Ren's history remind him of his own supernatural tendencies, leading him to deeply distrust Liu Ren. Stryker is the only one at HQ who isn't concealing some kind of misgivings about Liu Ren, and even then, Stryker is notoriously unwilling to take orders. While Liu Ren has been there far longer than Stryker, and Stryker owes some success to Liu Ren, they exasperate each other.

-He's been in the job for over 25 years, and looked the same then as now. Though few people like him well, he's still impossible to boot from the position, as he's never actually done anything overtly wrong. Fossil Park America claim that he's overpowered and obsolete; Fossil Park Asia claim that he's done more for INTERFOL than Fossil Park America has in the last three decades combined. He's possibly the most experienced person in INTERFOL, and doesn't seem to be running out of momentum; as such, he's invaluable, even if he's incomparably ill-liked.

-Though he's not overtly frayed at the edges in the same way that many, many Wardens are, he can and will go very, very quiet if someone mentions anything to do with Cosmonium, and when he touches the stuff, he claims that it burns. Drake is starting to wonder if Liu Ren's apparent agelessness might have something to do with Cosmonium, and if there may be some awful incident at the heart of what drove him into contact with it.

-Occasionally takes partners for a night, but doesn't appear to be seeking companionship. Has a portrait of a wife in his office, but it's old-fashioned, in black-and-white, and nobody has ever met the woman herself. Mei Lian once worked up the courage to ask her name. Zha Youjing. When Mei Lian looked at the photo of Youjing and called her gorgeous, Liu Ren looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

-ENTP 3w4 sp/so.

#that concludes the ask series for this one! i really enjoyed this so thank you so much! #the idea of drake having ocd came to me thus: #since intrusive thoughts feel like being possessed—are these even my thoughts and where are they coming from and why am i helpless— #then it'd make sense that drake (who gets all but possessed by something buried in his soul) would know that sensation #i don't have ocd but i do have strong oc traits and it's sometimes nice to see yourself reflected in a character #i don't know what's going on with Liu Ren but i love him. so much. he's so weird and he's probably about 150 AT LEAST. #i suspect he and zha youjing had children. liu ren (being immortal) has outlived those children and it breaks him over and over #fossil fighters frontier #fossil fighters #ff liu ren #liu ren #ff drake #drake #カセキホリダー #僕らはカセキホリダー #ff

[here-there-were-dragons]

as a general rule, on average, if americans consistently complain about a food being conceptually weird, gross, and scary, then it probably tastes amazing. or at least inoffensive.

this is because in my experience americans for the most part (give or take a few exceptions by region) think eating literally anything other than beef, chicken, bread, eggs, peanut butter jelly sandwitches, ketchup, and disgusting cloyingly artificial brown sludge soda is insurmountably weird, gross, and scary.

#a lot of people literally refuse to even eat ham or pork #not even for like religious or health reasons #just because they think eating anything but beef and chicken is 'weird and scary and gross' #every time i hear people going on en masse about how 'weird and an acquired taste' something foreign is i go and try it and i'm just like #what the fuck were all of you smoking. where is the unbearable weirdness i am supposed to be experiencing #shoutout to that time i kept hearing about how bizarre a flavor milkis soda is and how intimidating and acquired of a taste #then when i actually try the stuff. it's just fucking peach soda. it's peach soda with a faint tangy yogurtish taste. it makes good floats. #how in the absolute fuck is anything even remotely weird much less gross about this? #unless your concept of what a 'soda' should be is poisoned by a lifetime of the entire soda aisle being filled with nothing but brown sludg #from the same 3 brands that all taste like what would happen if they could distill the concept of diabetes and artificial flavoring syrup #i don't know if other countries have this but there's this weird cultural like mandatory rejection of any 'unusual' food here #way more intense than i've seen from anyone from any other country (though that might just be inexperience with other cultures talking) #people react to the mere suggestion of any food outside a very narrow range with outright disgust and genuine fear and horror #and there's a huge amount of unspoken peer pressure on everyone to also do the same #like you're expected to agree with them and you've breeched some sort of silent social contract if you don't #it's seen as *immoral* almost it feels like #it's difficult to describe unless you've noticed it yourself #americans react to the mere suggestion of eating anything outside of the same 2 meats and handful of fillers the same way #that pearl-clutching aristocrat grandmas react to hearing that people in foreign countries do.. basically anything #it doesnt matter if you're suggesting eating ube cake or suggesting eating live bugs because people will react the same way #everything that's not chicken/beef/ect is as good as bugs to people here #hate this stupid blandass country and how impossible it is to afford any food other than burgers if you're not rich #or blessed with relatives that have any idea how to cook and are at all willing to teach you #cause nother weird thing i've noticed about food culture-or at least wasp food culture-that i haven't seen anywhere else quite the same way #is that if you DO have any relatives that know how to cook then nine times out of ten they will jealously guard their recipes like a dragon #and refuse to share them with anyone #thus taking whatever little cooking knowledge was in the family to their grave #so the opportunity other people usually have for family bonding via passing on recipes? pffft no. #for some reason we seem to actively go out of our way to prevent these things from being passed on #i don't know what the fuck is up with that but i suspect it has something to do with 50's dinner party oneupmanship

[thatswhatsushesaid]

it has been about 6 years since i last worked in a purely information security setting, but since we were also part of central IT for a major university, we did these routine outreach and education projects to try to get the students to not do sketchy shit with their technology, and to practice better information privacy, etc

we’d host little pop-up events with games and prizes and stickers—we had little characters for all the different IT threats you might encounter while doing nonsense on the internet

and honestly i can’t even remember which threat this little guy is supposed to represent anymore, but he lives on the back of my laptop now and i love him

anyway:

1. don’t click spam links in your email.

2. don’t plug in random usb sticks you find on the ground.

3. don’t scan sketchy QR codes. but if you do and they invite you and your family, regardless of blood type, to a gathering in remote montana in 2025, do not go.

#semi-related—and feel free to call me a killjoy about this—but those hyper specific polls #you can vote in them and it’s *probably* mostly fine #like on the list of things that are risky to do on this site voting on polls like that and even occasionally providing additional info #in the tags is not a particularly high risk activity #but when you make a hyper specific poll that is clearly about you specifically and your experiences #(which to be fair is understandable esp if you have cool experiences that are very unique to you) #you are essentially creating another means of making yourself identifiable when that is maybe not what you are trying to do #and while i think the risk is still overall low it isn’t a risk-free activity and it is for sure riskier than just voting #in a bunch of different polls that would be harder for a malicious actor to collate and examine #making one of those polls essentially does the hard work for someone who may be looking to verify that you are who they suspect you are #not because they want to turn you into the next subject of a true crime podcast calm down #but probably for targeted spear-phishing #anyway just some thoughts

[timeisacephalopod]

Why do right wingers go on and ON about "father's in the home" when fathers are basically useless in the home? Like every year I see posts that go around about "dad finding out about what I got for Christmas" and it's like if fathers are so uninvolved they don't even know what Christmas gifts their kids are getting I don't think them being gone does much?? Like of course there's good and bad parents of all genders, but traditional gender roles- which the aforementioned right wingers ascribe to- mean men do jack fucking squat in the house OR anything with their kids so what the hell do right wingers think men are doing that's so important in the home if it's none of the childrearing or house work??

All I've got in this framework is a paycheque and these days women work so men wouldn't even be contributing something women DON'T, so I have no idea what these people think men are doing that it's so irreplaceable that being gone is damaging to children when by all means under their ideas of gender and family men are less than useless to their family. Women do all that work (and barring that, DAUGHTERS do more parental work than fathers so them being gone does what, exactly, except maybe rid the family of an overgrown child? Men who actually contribute are the ones families would be damaged without, not traditional men who probably don't even know how to do their own laundry OR cook or have any life skills because women have done everything for them their whole lives so???)

#winters ramblings #'no fathers in the home is what leads to gangs!' they cry while they do nothing with their kids make their wives do all the housework #and theur DAUGHTERS parent more often than THEY do. TELL ME what use you are in the house Giant Man Baby #tell me what thing you do thats of the Utmost Importance that being done causes irreversible damage to your kids #surely you being THERE isnt causing them damage right? RIGHT???? because this brand of dude being HOME #sounds worse than this brand of dude being GONE because these dudes and the women who marry them are HORRIBLE tyrants #who deserve each other but sure shit DONT deserve the kids they have then force into their lifestyle then abuse all their lives #like serioualy what the FUCK do they think men are doing thats so important in the home when their own beliefs state men do SQUAT #in the home??? do tou seriously think your PRESENCE is what does it?? pretty grandiose sense of self there huh #assuming just EXISTING beside your kids lives means youre literally holding everything together lmao like no #your wife does all that and if she isnt your KIDS do it buddy you dont do fuck all to consider yourself that important i dont get this #like literally men in traditional gender shit dont do ANYTHING outside of a job amd getting waited in hand amd foot #do you think having a personal slave you occasionally fuck is what makes you this important?? #i mean the mormins say yes so hard they think a billion wives gives you a better planet in the afterlife but like come on #at least ATTEMPT to have common sense when recruiting to your nonsense beliefs #then turn around and claim GAY PEOPLE are recruiting people to their 'lifestyle' like that isnt LITERALLY THE DESCRIPTION OF MISSIONARY WORK #gays arent CHRISTIANS guys. (some are but they arent recruiting to GAYNESS even if they may try to convert you religious wise- #although i suspect a great many WOULDNT do that on account of the history between the church and gay people #so probably they just are gay and love jesus but still yall get it)

[currentlyonstandbi]

there’s so many writing choices in this film that i could gripe about but i can’t deny the way the end scenes have me chewing dry wall. we’ve just spent the entire film seeing alex paint himself as the victim in all of this, a hapless bystander swept into the insanity of nigel’s world and having to pay the price for it. there’s little hints here and there that maybe there’s more to the story - e.g. nigel’s comment about alex and susan (to which alex offers immediate refutation) - but there’s never any real and clear indication. until the end. until we get that 9 month time skip and we see sally pulling up to the cemetery. until we learn that susan’s grave has been dug up and the skull stolen. and then the train scene my god, the reality sets in that alex has been playing them this entire time, that he’s become the very thing nigel always wanted him to be. the ending to this film is both the end of alex’s story and the beginning of jack’s.

#i'm hitting a slump lately and motivation is low so have the incoherent ramblings of a mildly sleep deprived lunatic #but i always have the end of this movie on my mind #especially because i'm obsessed with it all from the pov of forbes sr. of all things?? imagine being alex's dad #your son is suspected of the murder of both susan and nigel #and then you find out he's basically been tormented by the very kid he tried to WARN you about right from the start #but you didn't take it seriously and chalked it up to his usually dramatic antics and need to act out for attention #but then it turns out that kid was not only responsible for the murder of his own parents and 2 other students #but may very well have almost killed alex that night at the railway yard #so you take him home and you try to get things back to the closest approximation of normality that you possibly can #but you've never been particularly close to your son. you struggled to form a connection with him before #and you're certainly not any better at it now after everything that's happened #so you give him space and you tell yourself that it will be alright #and then 1 day. 9 months after. you wake to find your son is gone. packed up and left #not only that. but you find out the police suspect he was lying this entire time and the grave dug up by him #what do you do? do you look for him? do you believe the police - believe your own child capable of any of the things they describe??? #anyway i just have a lot of thoughts about alex's dad post-film . clearly #like minds #alex forbes #i love that john colbie gets a name but alex's dad is 'headmaster'

[pepprs]

mission failed we’ll get em next time 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#i literally can’t quit omg i feel so fucking bad. it wasn’t so bad this time but also HE LITERALLY FORCED ME TO COME OUT LKKE GIRL HELLO???? #he cornered me and asked me if redacted had to do w my s*duality and i was like ummmmm. yeah 🫣 and he was like now why didn’t you say that t #the first time 🤨 and i was like …………. 😳. AND THEN i asked him why he asked me that and he said he’s been waiting for the right moment to get #it out of me and he always suspected it LIKE HELLO I THINK THAT IS POSSIBLY WILDLY INAPPROPRIATE I WANTED TO DIEEEEEE #and i lied right to his face abt stuff w my mom and also the redacted situation bc i always feel in trouble whenever i talk abt them w him #and also he asked how things were w my mom and i told him and he was like that’s great but how are things with YOU and yoir mom 🤨. UGHHHHH #and i can’t leave bc his supervisor is gravely ill and they haven’t talked abt doing inter generational therapy w me yet which is what they #want to do <- hasn’t looked it up yet and doesn’t know what it receals about me. and he also is like yet agai. trying to get me to separate #myself from data expunged AND ITS LIKE OMGGGG NOTHING IS HAPPENING WHY DO I HAVE TO THROW AWAY A GOOD THING THAT IS WORKING FOR ME JUST FOR #THE SAKE OF CONFORMING TO SOME STUOID MENTAL HEALJT STANDARD. so yeah ummmmm idk what to dooooo i know im not getting the best possible care #and this whole thing has been a cluster fuck but he validated my reaction to something for the first time like EVER today and he has plans a #and what if they work. and like omg if i drop it on him he’ll be so hurt and surprised like it will really come out of nowhere and i don’t w #want to look like even more of a fool to him than iam. but he says i can’t withhold stuff bc it’s doing me a disservice and we need to see t #the fullness of who i am to get to the root and solve problems and stuff but it’s like uhmmmm… but you don’t make me feel safe for reacting #the way i do or wanting things to work out in a way you disagree with so how can i bring out all the parts of me if you don’t make me feel a #safe and unjudged for doing so like. lol. the thought of leaving him makes me feel so guilty and stupid bc it s like why are you throwing aw #away sliding scale therapy that could turn out to be really useful and running away when ppl tell you things abt yourself you don’t like to #admit and force you to look at your hard ugly truths. but also the thought of working w him until july after already having had 16 weeks of #this literaly makes me fucking insane so idk what to do and finding a new counselor would be so hard and i don’t have time or money. UGHHHH! #purrs #delete later #like how am i gonna walk out on him when we just spent all this time talking abt how this new technique will bring me into a new season. AUG

[spongebob-connoisseur]

Current mood

#the spongebob connoisseur #spongebob #spongebob squarepants #sb #spongebon squarepants #spongebob meme #When someone says something backhanded about you but they say it in a 'nice way' so you don't suspect #I know EXACTLY what you meant #And gosh i would LOVE to confront them about it #But too much time has passed to really say anything #And you cant confront someone so easily when they frame it in a polite sounding way #If you do get mad then it just looks like youre being thr asshole and you look crazy explaining yourself #So you're just stuck with these thoughts marinating in your mind #I want to bite someone :)

[mortirolo]

god blocking you felt so good and so fucking holy

#I have tried time and again to talk to you #but I have come to realise you are a brick fucking wall #you deflect all accusations‚ you never admit you make mistakes #you are so fucking childish too #resorting to petty personal attacks instead of reflecting on your own behaviour #and holy fucking shit do you need it #I know my flaws‚ and continually try to work on them but I suspect you'll never humble yourself #and you know what? you really are mean spirited. to me‚ to other people‚ to peopl you know... #people* #you're fucking weak #you're unbelievable #ignoring me for weeks on end and then claiming you were thinking? about what? because it sure as fuck wasn't my question 🤭 #don't forget I could still see what you posted‚ I know full fucking well what you did on main every damn day #and today I asked you what you even wanted with me anymore‚ more than once #and yet you couldn't answer that #was it that famous slow thinking on display? or was it you dming me out of the blue with no fucking clue what you were going to say? #it's absolutely the latter #I am so fucking glad I will never have to see or speak to you again #and I do not wish you well

[drdemonprince]

i say this with love: yall will make yourselves feel bad about fucking anything, i swear to god. you feel bad about feeling too much. you feel bad about feeling too little. you feel bad about what makes you feel good. you feel bad about not knowing what you like. you feel bad for not being able to survive easily in a world hostile to you. you feel bad for the tactics that you use to survive. you feel bad for how you identify. you feel bad for being unique. you feel bad for experiences that you share with millions of people. you suspect that every feeling, experience, desire, fear, and question in your brain is somehow evidence that you don't deserve to exist.

i can be so so reassuring about all of these things but ultimately you are the one that's gonna have to make a conscious choice to stop measuring yourself in these ways. there is no authority who gets to determine whether you have the right to exist or not. you already do. there is no body that votes on whether you get to feel, identify, or think as you do. you already do. your existence as it is is non-negotiable. stop trying to justify yourself. you're already here. the world is going to have to deal with it anyway.

[elldritch-horror]

Spicy-brained friends, I would like to propose an update to the very useful ‘if you hate everyone, eat, if everyone hates you, sleep, and if you hate yourself, shower’ mantra to live by

Have you suddenly become a petty, hateful little gremlin who thinks people should face the firing squad for (checks notes) leaving teabags on the counter, breathing loudly, or daring to exist in the same space as you? Perhaps mundane and reasonable requests like ‘hey, we agreed to hang out now, let’s hang out’ make you want to scream and move to a yurt in the woods.

You. Are. Overstimulated.

People talk a lot about being overstimulated, and the physical/mental effects of it. What I haven’t seen is people talking about what it does emotionally, and it took me an embarassingly long time to link up those nitpicky, resentful emotions with the state of overstimulation/meltdown/shutdown.

These feelings do not mean that you’re a bad person! They probably aren’t how you actually feel about the people around you. They probably do mean that your nervous system is at its absolute limit and any request/demand/stimulus is Too Much and taking you into fight or flight territory.

Go lie down in a dark room for an hour, or find somewhere safe and familiar to stim for a bit. If it’s happening a lot, schedule yourself regular low-stimulation shutdown time

Signed: someone who moved in with their nearest and dearest only to have a massive crisis of faith about Suddenly Hating All of Them. I don’t hate them, it’s just overstimulating living with people. If I can spare anyone else a similar 9 months of suspecting that they may actually be a bit of a shit person, then this post is worth it!

[aroacesigma]

imagine a world where parents could conceptualise the idea of you perhaps being mentally ill and not doing things to personally offend them . idk dad maybe im fucking htiting myself because i hate myself not to make you guys seem bad parents just a thought idfk . maybe i actuallY CANT control it idfk maybe im not doing this for shits and giggles !!!

#ramblings #i hate this i FUCKING hate this #oh would you guys prefer i cut myself ? because trust me i FUCKING feel like it #yeah yknow what why not !! fucking go at it at least thatll be nice and hidden and you fuckheads dont have to know about it ! #'youre a young woman now you can control yourself' OH MYG OD IM FONNA FUCKIGN END IT ALL #IM NOT A WOMAN PEALSE SHUT THE FUCK UP #I MEAN LIKE I KNWO IM NOT OUT BUT I KNOW THEY SUSPECT AND KNOW AND ALL THAT #HE FUCKING KNOWS HE KNOWS IT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE FUCKING HELL #WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU PEOPLE WANT ME TO DO WHAT WOULD YOU FUCKIGN RATHER #vent #self harm tw

[tonycries]

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

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

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

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

Word count. 9.0k

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

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol. 

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

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

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

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

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

And then it’s all black. 

To match his eyes.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s al-”

 “I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

Nahhh. 

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

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

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

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

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

So he does have nipple piercings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, it’s on now.”

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like, right now.

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe…

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

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

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

All for him. 

It’s too much. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You. 

And then he’s cumming. 

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow. 

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

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

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved. 

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

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

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

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

And you didn’t mind?

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

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

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

Click!

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

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

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

This was absolute torture. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was like something snapped.

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

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

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

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

You minx.

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

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

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

“Kiss me, you fool.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smack!

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

“What was it, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you do. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wha-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

“Choso, just kiss me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too afraid to break you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope.”

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

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

Except maybe those. 

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

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

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

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

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

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

[porcupine-girl]

An important message to college students: Why you shouldn't use ChatGPT or other "AI" to write papers.

Here's the thing: Unlike plagiarism, where I can always find the exact source a student used, it's difficult to impossible to prove that a student used ChatGPT to write their paper. Which means I have to grade it as though the student wrote it.

So if your professor can't prove it, why shouldn't you use it?

Well, first off, it doesn't write good papers. Grading them as if the student did write it themself, so far I've given GPT-enhanced papers two Ds and an F.

If you're unlucky enough to get a professor like me, they've designed their assignments to be hard to plagiarize, which means they'll also be hard to get "AI" to write well. To get a good paper out of ChatGPT for my class, you'd have to write a prompt that's so long, with so many specifics, that you might as well just write the paper yourself.

ChatGPT absolutely loves to make broad, vague statements about, for example, what topics a book covers. Sadly for my students, I ask for specific examples from the book, and it's not so good at that. Nor is it good at explaining exactly why that example is connected to a concept from class. To get a good paper out of it, you'd have to have already identified the concepts you want to discuss and the relevant examples, and quite honestly if you can do that it'll be easier to write your own paper than to coax ChatGPT to write a decent paper.

The second reason you shouldn't do it?

IT WILL PUT YOUR PROFESSOR IN A REALLY FUCKING BAD MOOD. WHEN I'M IN A BAD MOOD I AM NOT GOING TO BE GENEROUS WITH MY GRADING.

I can't prove it's written by ChatGPT, but I can tell. It does not write like a college freshman. It writes like a professional copywriter churning out articles for a content farm. And much like a large language model, the more papers written by it I see, the better I get at identifying it, because it turns out there are certain phrases it really, really likes using.

Once I think you're using ChatGPT I will be extremely annoyed while I grade your paper. I will grade it as if you wrote it, but I will not grade it generously. I will not give you the benefit of the doubt if I'm not sure whether you understood a concept or not. I will not squint and try to understand how you thought two things are connected that I do not think are connected.

Moreover, I will continue to not feel generous when calculating your final grade for the class. Usually, if someone has been coming to class regularly all semester, turned things in on time, etc, then I might be willing to give them a tiny bit of help - round a 79.3% up to a B-, say. If you get a 79.3%, you will get your C+ and you'd better be thankful for it, because if you try to complain or claim you weren't using AI, I'll be letting the college's academic disciplinary committee decide what grade you should get.

Eventually my school will probably write actual guidelines for me to follow when I suspect use of AI, but for now, it's the wild west and it is in your best interest to avoid a showdown with me.

#academia #studyblr #college #finals #pg irl #ai shit #chatgpt #notes