#it’s just for me this one. and that’s okay
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okay okay okay one more dungeon meshi thought
I keep seeing people saying Falin is "better at social cues" than Laios. Y'all she's just quiet. 😭 She just keeps her mouth shut. 😭😭 Girl was proposed to, said "let me think about it," and then did not even tell her own brother. She doesn't know what's going on either she's just quieter about it!!! 😭😭😭
#speaking as someone who ALSO has no idea what's going on at any time and is too afraid to ask#dungeon meshi#it's a spoiler for the manga but she also left marcille at magic school for five years and just thought that would be fine#it was but only because Marcille loves her too much to hold a grudge against HER#and so transferred her grudge to laios
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Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.
Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does.
Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.0k
A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.
“You’ve never what?”
“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”
Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.
---
Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you.
He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.
It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.
Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.
The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.
Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any.
“Um, welcome to-”
“Your hair’s funny.”
Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?
Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”
And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears.
After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day.
But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.
Oh.
Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder.
Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.
He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-
“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”
Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.
“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”
“Bye, crybaby.”
And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-
“Big bro, why are you so red?”
Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting.
Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.
“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”
“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter.
Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?”
No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question.
Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-
“Man, are you even listening?”
Shit.
Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.
Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!”
“Am not.”
“Am to.”
“Am not.”
“Am to.”
“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”
God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane.
Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.
“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”
Perfect. Great. Wonderful.
The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?
“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”
Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”
“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is.
Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”
You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust.
Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-
Click!
“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”
You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”
His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”
“Dad, I’m running away.”
That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact.
It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad.
Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-
“You alright, Cho?”
Ah.
Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.”
“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart.
“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”
“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”
“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.
“Cho.”
“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful.
And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.
“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”
“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”
“I don’t know either of you two.”
It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod.
He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”
Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”
“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years.
“I don’t know what you-”
“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”
And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”
Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”
Raising a brow, “What?”
“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”
“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years.
“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”
Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way.
“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’.
Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”
“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”
“Wanna bet, brat?”
“...”
Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet.
Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him.
Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night.
“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.
Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.
“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”
Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”
Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him.
“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.
You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”
He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”
Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.
“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-
“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit.
“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you.
You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”
“You know…”
“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy.
“Choso.”
Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted.
Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”
And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”
And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-
“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”
And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole.
“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-
“Use me.”
Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”
“Use me.”
There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch.
And, well, how could you say no to that?
Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth.
And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now.
So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.
You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”
And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard.
Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high.
“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”
The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”
“No.”
You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”
Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway.
“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”
“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss.
Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor.
And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this? He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls.
You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”
“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”
Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him.
“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”
You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him.
He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”
And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass.
“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”
“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good.
“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”
A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”
You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”
“Mhm?”
“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”
Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now.
“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.
“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours.
“Cum f’me, my girl.”
My girl.
And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.
Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base.
“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below.
“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips.
In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now.
“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”
And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years.
Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with.
It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken.
“Crybaby.”
“Cho.”
“Corny.”
“You started it.”
Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go.
“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”
“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”
---
Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More
Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX
-Jin.
Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still
Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX
-Jin.
Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else?
Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk
Kugisaki: *spare
And you just LET him?
Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER
…
AND DID IT ANYWAY
Kugisaki: L
Fushiguro: L
Gramps: L
Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????
*Fushiguro has left the chat*
Dad: :0
-Jin.
A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.
#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
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໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ FREAK LIKE MEEE ! ’﹒
𐚁̸ sum. jjk men kinks and their kinks/fetishizes . feat. gojo, toji, sukuna, nanami, choso.
warnings. fem! reader, unprotected sēx, edging, praise, degradation, sir kink, semi-public sēx, hair pulling, edging, overstim, mentions of breēding, blindfolds, dry humping, spīt kink, mdni.
𐚁̸ an. requested by anon
☆ NANAMI KENTO.
“ah—you’ve got some nerve,” nanami would pant. he’s got you right where he wants you. you’re leaned over his desk, ogling as he starts to realign himself. “it’s like you just misbehave on purpose, sweetheart,” and his voice was silky warm, tender. you moan once he lifts up your skirt yet again—you’re sopping wet, a dampened patch coats the middle part of your panties. “have you been touching yourself?”
“n—no,” you purr out, although it was clear as day that you were purely lying. he could tell, nanami was a lot of things but he wasn’t an idiot. you felt so feverish, the head of his thick cock spilts inside of your cunt and you whimper out. throughout the office, all that could be heard was the faint sounds of his fax machine and the lewd squelches your sweet cunt sings out in pure harmony. this was so risky, yet you loved every second—you craved more, the thought that one of his colleagues could walk in or hear the two of you made you ten times more soaked. “yes,” you correct yourself, gnawing on your lip before you feel a sudden restraint on your hands.
nanami inhales deeply, a low groan departing from his lips before he grabs both of your wrists. “such a messy girl. can’t even finish my shift,” and he yanks his tie from his attire. nanami then swiftly ties your wrists against your back with his tie, fully buried into your cunt. he leans up close, so close—a hand gently wrapping around your throat. “gotta break this pussy before i get any work done, ‘s that what you’re telling me, my love?”
“y—yesss,” you whine out with strained lungs, before he starts to vigorously quicken his pace. relentlessly, he starts to take you over his desk. with parted legs, you moan out in sheer ecstasy. your pencil skirt was lazily pulled up to your waist. with the skirt a bit wrinkled because of his grip he makes your arch go further for him whilst pulling you closer against him. “harder, fuck me harder, kento.”
“baby, this is a place of business,” he chortles, a sharp angle of his hips makes you feel all of him. so thick— the stretch was godly, making your eyes widen and your lips quaver. so fucking big. his base thwacks against you so sloppily, swollen balls filled up with so much that your heart own mouth salivates at the thought of it flooding inside of you. “when you’re in my office, it’s ‘sir,’ okay?”
you purposely don’t reply— he gifts your ass with a spank, making you whimper out as a response.
“yes s-sir,” you moan, the sharp sting making you jolt forward against the edge of the wooden desk. your words were so candied, so sweet..
with the way your cunt constricts around his hefty length—you were emitting out such various moans for him. so loud, nanami can’t help but press himself up against you even more and move a hand to go over your mouth. “m-mphhh.”
“any louder ‘n they’re gonna here you, gorgeous,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. nanami even goes as far to licking against your earlobe, sending shivers all through you. each slow languid stroke continues to get more deeper, pretty soon you start to coat the entirety of his palm with your slick saliva. “you want my boss to hear what a messy girl you are in my office?”
he chuckles, watching you slowly nod in reply as he’s jackhammering his thick cock into you again, and again, and again. so repetitive, by this point you’re all cock drunk.
“but silly girl, you’re not supposed to want that,” and his strokes become slow yet deep—he reaches everywhere inside of your stretchy walls with ease. nanami groans at how good your pussy keeps him hostage. his voice was so abnormally low too, all up against your ear. a hand of his trails down your spine , your wrists still behind your back. “but of course you do, my wife can’t help but be a little messy for me, huh? she just can’t help it, all she thinks about is me bending her over my desk— oh, you sloppy girl. drooling all on my hand.”
his hand removes from your mouth and you’re moaning at each of his languidly deep hits. “gonna c-cum, ‘m gonna cum, kento.”
“ah ah,” he mutters, spreading your legs just a bit further. the heels you wore sunk into the floor as your mouth pries open even more. loud moans ring and reverberate throughout the room before you correct yourself.
“sir . . sir, ‘m gonna cum,” you swallow thickly, feeling him shove such thick inches in and out of you. your lungs fill up with heavy oxygen, you whimper as your head leans against the front surface of his desk. a scatter of papers going against your skin. briefly, all you could see was random markings of paperwork with neat writing, his familiar signature throughout all of them. “can i cum s-sir? pleasepleasepleaseeee.”
nanami hums, soft padded fingertips gliding against your hips as he holds you in place— he’s so deep inside, the tip of his cock kisses and mashes against your g-spot for the nth time before he groans out. “go ahead, make a mess on my desk, sweetheart. make a mess so i can make you clean up for me,” and you’re basically being rammed against the furniture, hot breaths pouring through your lips before you gasp. simultaneously, you cum—coating nothing but a pretty white ring around his shaft, his thrusts coming to a slow halt before he pauses. “. . oh,” he tilts his head back, at a lost of words for a second.
you hear the dangle of his belt from his pulled down slacks before he smiles, witnessing as you lose yourself completely—so lewd, you’re convulsing and twitching on his cock, whining for him to keep going before he tugs on your wrist. “good girl, such a good girl,” and he chuckles, watching you spread your legs open more, awaiting for him to continue. “aw, is the messy baby not satisfied?” and he’s so close up to you, his breath fans against the minuscule hairs of your neck before he’s buried so deep. you feel every inch, his hand wraps around your throat once more before he purrs in a low voice once you shake your head. “no? welllll that’s too bad,” and his voice was smooth as silk. it lowers a bit and you whine once he suddenly pulls out. “sorry, my love. not during business hours. this is all you’ll get from me,” and he turns you around to kiss your forehead, smirking at your little pout. “don’t be like that, i love you too, brat.”
☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN
more than anything, he’s just simply into spanking your pussy.
without question—he’d have you right on his lap, preferably where he’s taking a seat on his high and mighty throne. the king of curses, occupying himself with his favorite pussy girl.
“oh my, such an impatient woman,” he’d coo up against your ear. the soft fabric of his kimono rubs off amongst your skin and you whine once you feel him spread your thighs open. “now let’s see if you’re as wet as i remember,” he whispers in a gruff tone—you’re rightfully soaked, the minute his fingers skim against your panties, he’s greeted with a sopping wet coat of your arousal. sukuna hums in amusement, watching you squirm and wriggle within his hold. “how cute,” he’d snicker, dipping a single digit into your folds. you lean back against his chest, biting on your lip before moaning out. one finger turns into two—sukuna then swirls it around before continuing to speak. “did you touch her while i was away? and don’t lie, this pussy will answer for me if you don’t, girl.”
“no—” you reply in a shuddering tone, his fingers were so long, creating a circular repetitive motion inside of your cunt before he collects a good amount of your sweetness. it sticks against his fingers the more he rummages throughout your pussy. “i didn’t touch myself, ‘kuna. promise.”
“. . . who?” he furrows his brows, abruptly pulling out his fingers before gifting your wet pussy with a mean spank. “who the fuck is ‘kuna? that’s not my name, princess.”
you whimper out, the sting feeling so good. he was purely teasing—you knew that, and your legs shook a bit solely from the impact. you bite your tongue before feeling your thighs struggle to keep themselves open. “s-sukuna?”
“tch. foolish woman,” he grumbles, sharply bringing more spanks towards your cunt. you’re so wet, dripping with so much slick that he starts to get addicted. your body language was adorable. each time he spanks it time and time again, the back of your head rubs against his chest. it makes him snicker, playfully pinching your clit just to make you sob out another melodic moan. “when it’s just you ‘n me, you’re on my lap ‘n i’m dealing with a pussy this wet, it’s ’my lord’ to you, know your place.”
with a pout, you rub against his wrist. having a little brat left in you, you purr out a, “but sukuna-”
“whore. i know you heard what the fuck i said,” he grits, giving you another spank. yet he then realizes you said that on purpose, just to make him spank your sopping wet cunt again. it feels so good, you feel hot everywhere—a sensation of tingles own throughout your body before sukuna’s palm caresses against your exposed womanhood. “freaky girl. you like that, huh? like feeling my hand hit against this nasty little mess?”
you nod, the smoothness of his hand sending you shivers before you feel the nerves buried inside of your pussy throb at full force.
so so good, another whimper wretches from your throat before you squeeze onto his knee. “course ya do. can’t help but be a nasty girl,” he grunts, and he shoves his thick slenderly fingers back inside your cunt. you swallow him so good—he groans, feeling the warmth of your pussy suffocate his digits oh so easily. “my nasty girl.”
his words only makes your pool a heat grow even more, your throat feels all dry—yet you’re starting to feel yourself salivate. with his fingers and the rapid speed of it, you could cum in just minutes. seconds even if he was feeling frisky. your legs were all sprawled out and you were just seeing colors— the way his fingers simultaneously curl up inside your folds was so filthy.
“just look at this mess,” he snarls, softly burying his fangs into his neck—a classic lip bite. as you’re laid against him, he feels his dick start to twitch in his briefs. you were so cute, trembling all from nothing but his simple touch. his words were filled with such lewdness, each time his digits rummage through your cunt, that same pop noise commences. so wet, you were in the midst of approaching your climax. it came at such a speed, your thighs shook and your jaw was practically hanging open.
it’s coming, it’s coming..
those exact words kept echoing into your brain, pant after pant departing from your lips before you whine.
“suku—m-my lorddd,” and once you correct yourself, he again pulls out his fingers covered in your sheeny slick before spanking your cunt. “oh, ohmygodddd, ‘m gonna c-cum, feel it coming, p-please.”
“what if i don’t want you to cum yet?” he teases, dragging his middle finger down your slit. by this point, your legs were a mess—shaking so strenuously that it brought jagged earthquakes to shame. the rupture that was about to take place was reaching at such a speed that even you couldn’t keep up. his warm breath fans against your earlobe before he lightly bites into your neck. “what if i want you to wait a little lo—”
“s-sukuna, sukuna, fuuuck,” you whine out, not even caring you broke character— it finally came, and not only did you climax but you ended up squirting. it shot out and he goes quiet, a devilish snicker shortly following afterward.
instantly, a crying orgasm gets tugged from your throat and you whine once he plugs his fingers back into your slick folds.
“. . awww,” he purrs seductively against your ear, watching as you lose yourself right on his lap. your legs fail to remain still, you were seeing pure splotches of white. your stomach seizes as you resume to breathe, heavy breaths snatching from your throat before you rub against his wrist for the umpteenth time. “you made a mess on my lap, naughty girl,” and then he chuckles once you pick up his hand only to make him continue to feel against your pussy. “should make you get on your knees ‘n clean it. like the good obedient girl you are. my little squirter girl.”
☆ CHOSO KAMO.
choso craves dry humping, he’s a needy baby. doesn’t even want you to strip your clothes off. he just needs you, no, he wants you.
“i missed you too, choso,” you’d giggle, feeling him wrap his strong broad arms around you. he was so warm, immediately as you walk through the door, you feel him press up against you. his scent, he smelled so good— it goes through your sinuses before you gasp once he makes you bend over the counter. “heh, baby. i can’t shower first?”
“. . . wait,” is all he says, his voice shakes as he brings clammy hands towards your hips. hitched breaths slip from his mouth as he whines, suppressing a few moans by sucking against your neck. such tender skin, he feels so hot and dizzy. choso’s wearing nothing but sweats. as you’re hunched over the kitchen counter, you feel the imprint of his exhilarated dick galvanize against your shorts. “i missed you all day today,” and his voice—although it being low, it was so sweet and genuine. a hint of want and desire runs underneath it and he makes your hips slowly grind against him. “sososo bad,” he swallows, the teeth shattering friction making cute whimpers elicit out from his sheeny spit-glossed lips. “i want you, i want you, can we—can i do this?”
you let off a small laugh. “can you what, hump me? why not just fuck me, baby. i’ll just—”
“no, nooo please,” he murmurs in a shaky voice, stopping you from pulling down your shorts. “this is fine, i don’t want you to . . to take off your clothes. i just . . i want you, i want you like this.”
you can’t help but feel your pussy twitch at his words, not just his words but his entire deliver of it all. “go ahead, baby,” you mutter in a soft encouraging voice, grabbing onto the edge of the cold counter. you could have sworn you heard a sweet cacophonies of ‘thank you, thank you’s’ escape past his lips.
he’s so needy, trembling breaths waft against your skin as he’s making your ass go up on him. with two hands, he grabs the mounds of your rear before giving it a slight teasing squeeze.
“babyyy,” he whimpers, gently seeping his teeth into your neck. softly, he sucks against the skin, feeling a little mark press into your skin from his canines. “god, i want you so bad. you feel so good against me like this, s-so warm,” and his words almost sound angelic. you giggle, starting to move against his sweatpants as he holds your waist. “yeah, keep doing that. f-fuck against me, please,” and your rhythm was slow but steady. you can feel his bulge press up against your shorts, he was big.
you only imagine how he’d feel from the inside— not just grinding against him, although you weren’t relatively complaining. not at all, the friction felt way too good. even you started to moan a bit once he makes the swerving of your hips pick up just a bit faster.
choso gasps—once your ass brushes up a particular spot, he whines. “o-oh fuck,” and you’re curious as to what happened—but instead of saying anything, he just starts to hump against you harder. “f-fuck, fuck, ‘m so hard. gonna make me cum through my p-pants, baby fuuuck.”
he became more and more vocal as the minute passes—you were feeling the heat brew up, not only against your ass but into the very depths of your abdomen too. choso’s usual pent up hair was down, going all in his face and he moans at your next few words. “it’s okay, baby. you can make a mess on me. cum for me, ‘cho.”
“your voice alone ‘s gonna make me a messy boy,” he whimpers out, feeling the brief twinge— the strain of his cock making him kiss his teeth in pleasure. “gonna c-cum, gonna cum,” he chants, and his voice was getting raspier and raspier. you swerve your ass against him ever more before seconds later—you feel a sudden damp spot.
choso grows quiet, looking down to see the slowly darkening spot coat against the grey fabric of his sweats. “hngh,” he pants, holding you still. you giggle, facing forward and it’s almost as if you can feel his eyes stare down your back. “this is the f-fifth time i ruined my sweats you bought me, baby.” he pouts, now wanting to feel the real thing—being inside of you, falling in love with the warmth of your pussy burying inside of him yet again.
“i’ll wash it for you,” you hum, turning around to finally face him. he’s so cute— flustered entirely, despite it just being dry humping, it might as well pass as simple doggystyle for choso. you stroke his cheek, bringing a kiss towards the side of his lips before his mouth twitches. adorable. “you wanna join me in the shower, baby?”
“o-oh, yes please,” he nods, and he grabs onto your hand. “can we . . can we do this in the shower too?”
you sneer, intertwining your fingers with his as he leads the way. “yeah, but this time with our clothes off okay?”
“okay.”
“good boy.”
“m-mhm.”
☆ GOJO SATORU.
gojo likes to be tied up and restrained—blindfolded even, he loves it all.
“mhm, make it tight too baby,” he teasingly says, lowering his voice purposefully. you’re straddling him, feeling his dick bury inside of you idly before you shoot him a glare. he rolls his eyes once you successfully wrap the blindfold around his eyes, then proceeding to tie up his wrists. “hehe, i’m only letting you do this because i’m bored, just so y’know.”
“shut up,” you mumble, flicking him back. he lands against the pillow and that same sly grin never leaves his face. gojo’s impatient— albeit, the downside would be that he wouldn’t be able to touch you. that thought alone brings a pout to his face. “are you ready now? or do i need to hold your hand.”
gojo giggles. “ooh, someone’s sassy today. i like that,” and he feels your hips starting to move. his hands were stretched out against the bed and he grunts once he feels your warmth hug him tight like a vice. “i let you get away with hah anything.”
“yeah you do,” you whisper, watching as he moves his head around a bit at the sound of your voice—he’s so hot, his entire body temperature rises up the more you grind your hips forward. gojo tries to maintain his little tough act but fails miserably, he’s quite literally folding underneath you. your fingers run down his neck and a moan slips out. “still sensitive from cumming too early, pretty boy?”
“don’t call me . . . that,” he swallows, another moan eliciting from his throat once you kiss all over his face. your touch, his true weakness. it had him feral, the way your ass grinds against him makes him suck his teeth. “but baby, this is torture,” he pants out, feeling your hands roam everywhere on his body— he tenses up, feeling your fingers skim against his bare chest. “if you can touch me, i should t-touch you too.”
“you always touch me,” you murmur, and he’s so deep— the fatness of his cock stuffs your cunt full to where you’re squeezing him down. he groans, wishing that he could just hold onto your hip. gojo’s head goes back and he smothers his glossed lips together. with the brief swivel turning of your hips, you move against him faster until he starts to spasm underneath you. “aw, so you are still sensitive from cumming too early, ‘toru.”
he groans, a pout spreading against his lips before he whimpers. “i—i’m not,” and he pauses his words before out of nowhere— slip.
gojo’s dick slips out of you and the moment it does, he goes ballistic.
“w-what happened?” he whines, feeling his now flaccid cock slither underneath your folds. you just sit there— almost forgetting he couldn’t exactly see, only feel. he’s all flustered, feeling your folds gradually rub against his length. “f-fuck, put it back in. don’t grind on me, angel.”
“i don’t think you deserve it yet,” you tease, reaching between his legs to stroke his dick. gojo groans, and he’s really feeling everything. the nerves inside his body had him shaking, your touch alone drove him crazy— once he slipped out, gojo wouldn’t stop begging and pleading for you to put it back in. the pout on his face never leaves before you kiss his lips as an attempt to shut him up. he doesn’t though, each mwah from you and he continues to speak, a total blabbermouth. “not until you say pretty please.”
he grouses stubbornly. “huhhh. do you know who i am?”
“you’re a bottom who’s underneath me.” you snicker.
gojo’s at a loss for words, damn. that was probably true— to be fair, he was underneath you. you were straddling his lap, watching as he becomes more and more needy for you to be inside. his hips sweetly jitters from the sudden yearn for you to be back inside. he missed the warmth of your gummy walls gripping him down tightly. “you’re being a brat, you just wanna hear the strongest beg for you, huh?”
“the strongest but i’m the only one who can make you whimper.” you kiss underneath his chin, watching as his dimples poke into his skin.
“if i wasn’t restrained i’d have pinned you down, hmph,” and his pout only stretches. you drag your pussy against his length before he eats his words, a cute whine escaping. “y-you fuckin’ brat, when ‘m free it’s over,” and his lip quivers. “baby, just put it back in, okayyy okay.”
you hum, wrapping your arms around him and he loses himself from your touch. his dick was so hard, pinkish tip desperately awaiting to be stuffing you full by now, but alas—you were stalling. “say pretty please ‘n i’ll put it back in.”
after fourteen tremendously long seconds, gojo gives in with a cute whimper following. “pretty please, pretty please put it back in so i can f-fuck you again.”
“so good for me,” you kiss his cheek, watching him quaver from your touch—he’s panting heavily before he feels your hand wrap around his cock, aligning yourself again. “aw. the strongest, more like the whiniest.”
“i— i hate you,” he whimpers at you mocking his infamous title. “now finish fucking me, brat. pleaseee.”
☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO.
he’s definitely into face fucking, if he’s ever annoyed about something or needs to unwind after a long day, the solution is nothing more than your pretty tight throat.
“knees, girl. get down f’me.”
you’d comply, your knees hitting against the soft carpet before you stare up at him—he inhales, sharp gaze lowering at you. “boo. eye problem?” he sassily says, a hand lightly grabbing onto your hair, using your head as leverage. “you know what to do. need to feel that fuckin’ mouth.”
“could be a little nicer.”
“don’t try me, little girl.”
toji takes a breath, watching as you unzip his jeans—always, he had such a bulge to him. it never failed to poke out through his pants. so delicious, you lick your lips at the sight of his hefty boxers all out in the open—basking in your pure eyesight. you don’t waste any time, whipping out his thick cock. he’s so pent up, angry mushroom tip a pinkish red color. toji’s got a few specks of black hair that coats near his base, a gossamer string of spit departs from your lips the moment you kiss his tip sloppily.
“. . . yeahhh,” he rasps out lowly, fingertips dragging through your scalp. toji’s standing tall, his dick had somewhat of a upward curve to it. with staggering inches, you were always taken aback, he loved feeling the brush of your lips skim across his frenulum. a strained breath yanks out from his lungs once he starts to feel you sink down. your throat was so warm, so wet, so tight. his head throws itself back and he chews down on the soft part of his bottom lip. “thaaaat’s it, take that shit. take it down, babygirl.”
you’re slow with your pace, taking him all the way in until his tip mashes against the roof of your mouth. if it wasn’t for your technique of breathing through your nose, you’d gag. a hand was just about to wrap around his length before he lightly smacks it away. “nuh uh, no hands. you got it.”
he snickers at your pout, watching as your hands go back down toward your sides. you make sure to swirl your tongue against his leaky tip, your pace was perfect— he swallows, tightening his grip against your hair before he makes you go faster. your head’s bobbling, quickening before by this point he’s purely face fucking you now.
“s-shit, good girl. ya gonna let me ruin this mascara, yeah?” and his voice itself was the definition of seduction—so rough, gravelly with each syllable it pronounces. your tongue lays flat, wrapping your lips around his dick before his thigh starts to bounce. “. . . damn,” he huffs out, and your jaw starts to feel heavy over time. toji’s so big, the sensation of your tongue has his head spinning. “keep those pretty eyes up here,” he murmurs, another free hand gripping underneath your chin. what a mess, your own saliva starts to pour down the sides of your mouth. “such a sloppy girl,” he titters, swiping a thumb against your lips. you stare right into his eyes and he returns you with nothing more but a sly smirk. “my sloppy girl though, right?”
you nod, feeling your mascara start to run— still, you’re breathing through your nose before you feel him start to tense up. “ah, fuck,” he grumbles, now he’s just kissing the back of your throat with his rude cockhead. “mhm, this sloppy throat ‘s gonna make me flood it with cum,” and green viridescent eyes flicker back down at you. he lightly taps against your cheek, feeling the outline of his dick. “thirsty, baby? been talkin’ about how much you had nothin’ to drink.”
again, you nod your head whilst still giving him eye contact. toji’s got your mouth stuffed full— he groans lowly, practically dragging your head back and forth against his cock. “yeah you are. open up that jaw for me ‘n i’ll clench that thirst, baby,” and he feels your maw open—your tongue lays flat, and you know he’s preparing to release. you start to even feel yourself throb between your thighs, yet you stop yourself from touching yourself. “so pretty,” he puffs out in short singular breaths. with a hand, toji wraps his right hand around his fat girth of a length before he pulls his dick out. “say ah.”
“ah,” you mimic, lolling out your tongue for him and he sneers at how obedient you were—so good for him, pink tongue ready to be painted with nothing but his worthy semen. tongue pointed out, toji fists his cock a few times—giving it a few solid pumps on your tongue before momentarily, he cums. thick satiny ropes, the moment it shoots out into your throat, upon instinct your eyes briefly squeeze shut from the taste. bitterly bitter, yet you wanted all of it. every single drop. you moan, awaiting for him to finish pouring every drop inside.
“f-fuuuck,” he grunts, painting the inside of your mouth with such strings of cum that it leaves your cheeks all puffed up. “swallow it, baby,” he mumbles, completely out of breath. you do, a few remnants of his seed glistening on your lips before he squeezes your cheeks together. “good,” and he bends down to your level, pushing your lips together. toji slyly grins, staring into your eyes before murmuring. “now, give me a kiss. don’t be greedy, i want a taste too.”
you whine, pulling him into a sultry, sloppy kiss. tongues collide against each other— tangling and twisting, various strings saliva forming into a cobweb before he pulls away, licking near the bottom of your lip where a few sprinkles of his own cum remained. “still thirsty?”
“y-yes, toji.”
“heh. thought so. dehydrated ass girl.”
#★vegasbaby.#gojo smut#toji smut#sukuna smut#nanami smut#choso smut#gojo x reader#toji x reader#sukuna x reader#nanami x reader#choso x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro x reader#geto suguru x reader#nanami kento x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk x you#anime smut#female reader#jjk headcanons#cw sex mention
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hiii im sure you’ve answered this before but in regards to your twst x Pokémon, how do you choose which Pokémon go give to the cast?? really curious since your choices are unique :O
unique in a good way, I hope? 😅 (jk jk I haven't come across too many pokemon AUs, so I was going in without preconceptions, I guess!) I was sorta aiming somewhere between doing, like, a full AU with internal consistency and everything, and just picking entirely based on theme/character, so maybe that's why! basically I just set some arbitrary rules (no legendaries/no repeats/evo stages based on year) and then went on ~vibes~. a couple were also suggestions (thank you guys!) and last-minute decisions, so it was a bit of a delightful mess of ideas!
my one regret is that I should have given Riddle a Togedemaru after all. ...you know what, he can have one now, why not
#art#twisted wonderland#pokemon#poketwst#okay i have one other correction to make#which is that i think vil should also have a garbodor#NO LISTEN#i have thought about it a lot but i just do not want to give him a milotic#and this is because -- now hear me out#neige would actually be the one with a milotic#(it fits his personality more and it's even in his colors!)#when they were kids vil had a trubbish and neige had a feebas and vil felt superior until the whole milotic thing happened#and he's secretly kind of bitter about it#but he also secretly loves his garbodor a lot and gets mad when people make fun of it#IS HE NOT BEAUTIFUL ENOUGH FOR BOTH OF THEM#also garbodor ferments poison inside of it! it would be the perfect alchemy assistant!#I'M RIGHT OKAY#(i am also a big fan of trubbish/garbodor and i don't personally think they're ugly anyway)#anyway enjoy this drawing because it completely exploded my computer#(it was not the drawing's fault it was just unfortunate timing)#i've mostly got things working again but oof. it's been. a day. 🙃
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Part Four
Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.
"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.
"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."
"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.
"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."
You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.
"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.
Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.
It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.
It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.
In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.
"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."
"You think it was a stunt?"
"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."
"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."
"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."
"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."
"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."
You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.
You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.
"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”
For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.
Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?
"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.
You were finally angry.
#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#call of duty#john soap mactavish#angst#angst with a happy ending
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Awww, I just had a cute thought, what if Yuji braids readers hair before her date with Sukuna and Yuji puts butterfly clips into her hair that goes well with her dress and Sukuna think she’s the prettiest thing in the whole wide world
I wasn’t sure if this was for toddler yuuji or not but it was sent after toddler yuuji sooooo don’t hate me if this isn’t what you meant PFFF-
NO BC YUUJI KEEPS CLOSING THE DOOR ON SUKUNA WHENEVER HE COMES IN TO ASK IF SHE'S READY BC "no, not weady"
“Okay but the reservation’s in 30-“
“Not. Weady.”
And yuuji is so focused on this task, so determined to make you look good, he’s got the tip of his tongue sticking out as his chubby fingers work in various directions and ways, clipping hair here and braiding these strands until he finally cheers and claps his tiny hands and lets you look. Your hair is braided messily, neon butterfly clips nestled in your locks and a few strands out of the braid to frame your face. For such a small boy, he definitely has paid attention to your own styling of hair. Coupled with your makeup, you feel genuinely pleased with the work his tiny hands were able to conjure.
“Awww, yuuji,” you coo, scooping him in your arms and planting a kiss to his head, making him giggle. “You did so good! You think Sukuna’s gonna like it?”
“Sukuna just wants to go!” His gruff voice yells from the other side of the door, and you snort before opening the door, watching as Sukuna’s face of annoyance turns to you, and it melts into one of awe, crimson eyes dancing over your face.
You snort and shake your head, “where’s all that big talk now, huh?”
“I…” he trails off as he lets his eyes glaze over the entirety of your being, and you watch his Adams Apple bob as you continue to beam at him. “You look… fucking beautiful.”
Yuuji gasps at the word, “‘kuna says no-no word!”
“I know, I’ll deal with him later,” you shush, putting down the small child and letting your arms loop around Sukuna’s neck, his hands settling on your waist. “Say thank you to yuuji, he worked very hard on my hair.”
But Sukuna says nothing. He still looks awestruck at you, his lips curving into a small smile of pride before he sinks his teeth into his lip. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
“Had a hunch,” you assure with a smile. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips, and you reciprocate the affection eagerly, tightening your arms around him. You hear yuuji giggling as he watches you both kiss, and you pull away to peek down at him, leaving sukuna to keep sponging kisses along your cheeks and jawline.
“Smoochie kiss!” Yuuji croons, and you reach down to ruffle his hair happily, relishing in the warmth of your chosen family.
#☹️🩷#sukuna#sukuna fluff#sukuna x reader fluff#sukuna x reader#sukuna x f!reader#sukuna imagine#sukuna jjk#sukuna ryomen#sukuna ryomen fluff#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen x f!reader#sukuna ryomen x reader fluff#sukuna ryomen imagine#sukuna ryomen jjk#jjk#jjk fluff#jjk imagine#jjk x reader#jjk x reader fluff#jjk x f!reader#jjk x female reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x yn#brother!au#big brother!sukuna#brother!jjk au#brother!jjk#brother!sukuna
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Being a batfam fan is funny because people will make a post like “here’s my headcanon-“ and it’s just something that’s directly canon to the story then post about major canon events and get everything wrong.
#this post was inspired by me remembering the experience of reading death in the family#after only knowing the fanbase version and realizing oh none of that shit happened okay#like girl you don’t understand it’s so bad#Jason wasn’t even fired as Robin#He’s not accused of murdering anyone by Bruce#He’s not trying to prove himself at all he’s just looking for his mom#The reason Bruce didn’t go after him right away is because he was tracking down a goddamn nuke the Joker stole#Then after he finds it and handles the problem he helps Jason track down moms 2 and 3#Also Jason died in like 20 minutes?? even less??#He died in less time than it took his mother to smoke a cigarette#Bruce literally went ‘wait here I’ll be right back’ and was gone for less time than a trip to the grocery store#and then you go into the Jason Todd tag and they act like Bruce pulled the damn trigger on him#Like besties I don’t know how to tell you this he basically did everything right he possibly could have#Even him benching Jason from Robin temporarily happens so that he can get Jason into therapy about his trauma#Like the whole point is that neither of them did anything wrong bad shit just sometimes happens#That’s the tragedy. The drama.#Bruce couldn’t have made better choices in the position he was in and Jason was never going to make different ones#It was inevitable#Anyway rant over please read death in the family before I lose my mind#batfam#batman#jason todd#tim drake#dick grayson#damian wayne#bruce wayne
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grumpy hotch x pregnant reader where he is just having an off day and the team calls reader in to deal with him and as soon she arrives in his office he just holds her and her belly as she scratches his scalp omg 🥹😭🫶🏻
You’re lounging in your husband's favourite chair with a book and an ice cold soda in your hand when your phone rings. You almost knock your tooth out pulling it up to your face without looking, wanting it to be Aaron, knowing it probably won’t be. Maternity leave can be excruciatingly boring.
“Hello?” you ask. Your book slides down your bump. You pull it back up.
“Hi, mom.”
You grin to yourself. “Hi, Emily. Please tell me you’re calling because you miss me and you know I have cabin fever.”
“I’m calling because someone misses you.” Her ire tone is unmissable and ever endearing. “I do miss you, I can’t wait for you to have your stinking baby and come back to work.”
“That would be fun, right? We’ll get Hotch on paternity leave.”
“It’s him I’m calling about.”
“Is he okay?” you ask. You know if he were injured she would’ve mentioned that first. You’re not so scared of his being grumpy.
“Moody as ever. I can’t believe I’m asking you to, but would you consider coming in for lunch? I’ll send a car, no walking, but he could really use it. He’s been biting off heads all morning.” Emily laughs down the line. “You’re the only one who can cheer him up.”
It’s not true, but you are usually the quickest. You bid Emily goodbye with a promise to be there soon and get dressed, with no choice but to wear some maternity pants and a peplum blouse. Any excuse to see your haggard husband is one you’ll take.
You look at your bump and you love the baby in there, but it feels weird sometimes to see yourself differently. If Aaron weren’t as nice about it as he is, you would’ve broken down by now; he’s sussed many breakdowns before they could begin, kissed fingertips and collars promising you’re just as pretty as always. And it’s reassuring, but it isn’t pretty that worries you. You’re a genuine walking beach ball right now.
The car Emily promises is none other than Anderson himself. “He’s bullying you?” you ask him.
He doesn’t say yes or no, but his smile is enough of a clue. You can’t get to the BAU quick enough (though you’re slower these days), pushing open the glass door with a tired sign.
Spencer comes across you first by coincidence. “Hey!” he says, ushering you in for a hug, his cup of coffee hot behind your shoulder. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting.”
“He’s in a mood,” you say. Not without fondness.
Spencer grimaces. “Sort of.”
Emily attacks you from the side. “Thank god you’re here! I think he just told Morgan to go fuck himself,” she says under her breath.
She’s just saying it to make you laugh, and it works. It’s vaguely out of character, but if you know Emily, you know she has a crass, often dirty-minded side, and it’s been a while since you’ve heard her swear. You’re still giggling when the door you’d been making your way to opens.
Aaron emerges with an expression half bemusement and half confusion. “Honey?”
“My love,” you say, too quiet for him to properly hear, but he can read lips just fine.
He rushes in a very gentlemanly display down the steps to help you up them, but you’d only been going up them to see him, and you stop at the foot of them with your hand raised to his elbow. “Hey, handsome.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing. Just missed you, wanted to have dinner, and I figured you couldn’t say no. You know.” You touch your tummy. “Considering.”
He peers suspiciously past your head. “Yeah?”
You look where he’s looking, find Emily and Spencer not so subtly turned away. You laugh again, pleased when the sound makes him smile. “Come on. Take me to your office.”
He puts a hand behind your shoulders and leads you upstairs to his office. There are papers strewn haphazard across the front of the desk, his briefcase open and muddled, his pen lost within the mess. You’re smug knowing he’d been knee deep in paperwork but abandoned it all when he heard you laughing, like he just couldn’t miss it.
“Let me sit you down,” he says.
“Woah, slow your roll. Why are you stressed?”
He blinks at you. “There’s a lot to do?”
“Sure, but why are you stressed about me? I can sit down by myself.”
He must look at you for five whole seconds without saying a word, and the door’s not closed, there’s no answer to your question, and then he takes you into his arms for a hug. “I know you can,” he says.
It’s admittedly hard to hug him with the bump between you. You worry you’re hurting him as your cheeks press together, crushing his shoulders under your hands.
He usually asks first, but he knows by now that you’re two halves of the same heart, two sides of the same coin, his hand slipping between you both to nudge aside your shirt and feel your stomach.
You close your eyes.
“Rough day?” you ask.
“A lot to do…” His face moves down into your neck.
You know what he wants, moving your hand to the back of his head to thread your fingers into his hair. “I can fix it,” you say sympathetically, beginning a gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp.
“How’s that?”
“If I go into labour right now, you get a reprieve.”
“Honey, in the most loving sense possible, you going into labour now would not be ideal.”
“It’s gonna happen one day, babe. And you’re gonna be just as busy then. You need to take less on or–”
“No, I know.”
His hand slides still under your shirt to your hip, encouraging you away from him, his eyes flitting up and down your figure, checking you over. You let your hand fall to his shoulder, fingertips interested in the starchy fabric of a new suit.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, dipping down to give you a kiss. His eyes are dark, so close. “That helped. What can I get you for dinner?”
You give a fond, pitying smile. You’re not gonna get him out of this office today, that’s for sure. “Half your sandwich, probably.”
He kisses you again. You take it for a thank you.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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"Let's Have a Talk, First"- Stereotypes, pt 1
Come sit down. You and I, before we get into any of the things I'm sure you're impatient to know: we need to have a come to Jesus talk, first.
There are some things that I've been asked and seen that strengthens my belief that we need to have a reframing of the conversation on stereotypes in media away from something as simple as "how do I find the checklist of stereotypes to avoid". Because race- and therefore racial stereotypes- is a complex construct! Stands to reason then, that seeing, understanding, and avoiding it won't be that simple! I'm going to give you a couple pointers to (hopefully) help you rethink your approach to this topic, and therefore how to apply it when you're writing Black characters- and even when thinking about Black people!
Point #1: DEVELOP THE CHARACTER!! WRITE!!
Excuse my crude language, but let me be blunt: Black people- and therefore Black characters- will get angry at things, and occasionally make bad choices in the heat of the moment. Some of us like to fuck real nasty, some might be dominant in the bedroom, they may even be incredibly experienced! Others of us succumb to circumstance and make poor decisions that lead to crime.
None of those things inherently makes any of us angry Black women and threatening Black men, Jezebels and BBC Mandingos, and gangsters and thugs!
Black people are PEOPLE! Write us as such!
If all Black characters ever did was go outside, say "hi neighbor!" and walk back in the house, we'd be as boring as racist fans often accuse.
I say this because I feel I've seen advice that I feel makes people think writing a Black character that… Emotes negatively, or gets hurt by life and circumstance, or really enjoys hard sex, or really any scenario where they might "look bad" is the issue. I can tell many people think "well if I write that, then it's a stereotype" and to avoid the difficulty, they'll probably end up writing a flat Black character or not writing them at all. Or- and I've seen this too- they'll overcompensate in the other direction, which reveals that they 'wrote a different sort of Black person!' and it comes off just as awkwardly because it means you think that the Black people that do these things are 'bad'. And I hate that, because we're capable of depth, nuance, good, evil, adventure, world domination, all of it!
My point is, if you write your character like the human being they are, while taking care to recognize that you as the writer are not buying into stereotypes with your OWN messaging, you're fine. We have emotions, we have motivations and goals, we make decisions, and we make mistakes, just like anybody else. Write that! Develop your character!
POINT #2: YOU CAN'T CONTROL THE READERS!!
Okay. You can write the GREATEST Black character ever, full of depth, love, nuance, emotional range, all those things…. And people are still going to be racist about them. Sorry. There is absolutely nothing you can do to control a reader coming from that place of bias you sought to avoid. If it's not there, TRUST AND BELIEVE, it'll be projected onto them.
That passionate young Black woman who told the MC to get her head out of her ass? Yeah she's an angry Black bitch now, and bully to the sweet white MC. Maybe a lesbian mommy figure if they like her enough to "redeem" her. That Black gay male lead that treats his partner like he worships the ground he walks on? Yeah he's an abusive thug that needs to die now because he disagreed One Time with his white partner. That Black trans woman who happened to be competing against the white MC, in a story where the white MC makes comparable choices? Ohhhh they're gonna be VILE about that poor woman.
It really hurts- most especially as a Black fan and writer- knowing that you have something amazing to offer (as a person and creative) and people are gonna spit on that and call it "preference". That they can project themselves onto white characters no matter what, but if you project your experiences onto black characters, it's "pandering", "self insert", "woke", "annoying", "boring", and other foul things we've all gotten comments of.
But expect that it's gonna happen when you write a Black character, again, especially if you're a Black writer. If you're not Black, it won't hurt as personally, but it will probably come as a shock when you put so much effort in to create a lovely character and people are just ass about them. Unfortunately, that is the climate of fandom we currently exist in.
My favorite example is of Louis De Pointe Du Lac from AMC's Interview With The Vampire. Louis is actually one of the best depictions of the existential horror that is being Black in a racist White world I have ever seen written by mostly nonblack people. It was timeless; I related to every single source of racist pain he experienced.
People were HORRIFIC about Louis.
It didn't matter that he was well written and what he symbolized; many white viewers did NOT LIKE this man. There's a level of empathy and understanding that Black characters in particular don't receive in comparison to white counterparts, and that's due to many of those stereotypes and systemic biases I'm going to talk about.
My point is, recognize that while yes, you as the author have a duty to write a character thoughtfully as you can, it's not going to stop the response of the ignorant. Writing seeking to get everyone to understand what you were trying to do… Sisyphean effort. It's better to focus on knowing that YOU wrote something good, that YOU did not write the stereotype that those people are determined to see.
POINT #3: WHY is something a stereotype?
While there are lists of stereotypes against Black people in media and life that can be found, I would appreciate if people stopped approaching it as just a list of things you can check off to avoid. You can know what the stereotypes are, sure, but if you don't understand WHY they're a problem and how they play into perception of us, you'll either end up writing a flat character trying to avoid that list, or you're going to write other things related to that stereotype because "oh its not item #1"... and it'll still be racist.
For example: if you wrote a "sassy Black woman" that does a z formation neck rotation just because a store manager asked her something… that's probably stereotype. If you thought of a character that needed to be "loudmouthed", "sassy", and "strong" and a dark-skinned black woman was automatically what fit the profile in your mind, ding ding ding! THAT'S where you need to catch your racist biases.
But a dark-skinned Black woman character cursing out a store manager because she's had a really bad, stressful day and their attitude towards her pushed her over the edge may be in the wrong, but she's not an "angry Black woman". She's a Black woman that's angry! And if you wrote the day she had to be as bad as would drive anyone to overstimulation and anxiety, the blow up will make sense! The development and writing behind her led to this logical point (which connects to point #1!)
I'm not going to provide a truly exhaustive list of Black stereotypes in media because that would ACTUALLY be worth a college credited class and I do this for free lmao. But I am going to provide some classic examples that can get y'all started on your own research.
POINT #4: WATCH BLACK NARRATIVES!
As always, I'm gonna push supporting Black creators, because that's the best way to see the range of what you'd like. You want to see Black villains? We got those! Black heroes? Black antiheroes? Assholes, lovers, comedians, depressed, criminals, kings, and more? They exist! You can get inspired by watching those movies and reading those books, see how WE depict us!
I've seen mixed reviews on it, BUT- I personally really enjoyed Swarm, because it was one of the first times I'd ever seen that "unhinged obsessed murderous Black fan girl" concept. Tumblr usually loves that shit lmao. Even the "bites you bites you bites you [thing I love]" thing was there. And she liked girls, too. Just saying. I thought it was a fun idea that I'd love to see more of. Y'all gotta give us a chance to be in these roles, to tell these tales. We can do it too, and you'd enjoy it if you tried to understand it!
POINT#5: You are NOT Black!
This is obvious lmao, but if you're not Black, there's no need to pretend. There's no need to think "oh well I have to get a 100% perfect depiction of the Black person's mind". That's… That's gonna look cringe, at its best. You don't have to do that in order to avoid stereotypes. You're not going to be able to catch every nuance because it's not your lived experience, nor is it the societally enforced culture. Just… Do what you can, and if you feel like it's coming off hokey… Maybe consider if you want to continue this way lol. If you know of any Black beta readers or sensitivity reviewers, that'd be a good time to check in!
For example, if your Black character is talking about "what's good my homie" and there's absolutely no reason for him to be speaking that way other than to indicate that he's Black… 😬 I can't stop you but… Are you sure?
An egregious example of a TERRIBLE way to write a Black character is the "What If: Miles Morales/Thor" comic. I want to emphasize the lack of good Black character design involved in some of these PROFESSIONAL art spaces, because that MARVEL comic PASSED QA!! That comic went past NUMEROUS sets of eyes and was APPROVED!! IT GOT RELEASED!! NO ONE STOPPED IT!!
I'm sorry, it was just so racist-ly bad that it was hilarious. Like you couldn't make that shit up.
Anyway, unfortunately that's how some of y'all sound trying to write AAVE. I promise that we speak the Queen's English too lmao. If you're worried you won't get it right, just use the standard form of English. It's fine! Personally, I'd much rather you do that than try to 'decode AAVE' if you don't know how to use it.
My point is, if you're actively "forcing" yourself to "think Black"… maybe you need to stand down and reconsider your approach lmao. This is why understanding the stereotypes and social environment behind them will help you write better, because you can incorporate that Blackness- without having to verbally "emphasize how Black this is"- into their character, motivations, and actions.
Conclusion
We need to reconsider how we approach the concepts of stereotypes when writing our Black characters. The goal is not to cross off a checklist of things to avoid per se, but to understand WHY we have to develop our Black characters well enough to avoid incorporating them into our writing. Give your Black characters substance- we're human beings! We have motivations and fears and desires! We're not perfect, but we're not inherently flawed because of our race. That's what makes the difference!
And as always, and really in particular for this topic, it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!
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The Jewish definition of Zionism is very different than the popular definition of Zionism. For Jews, Zionism has its roots in a 3,000 year old tradition of wishing to return to our homeland. I would argue that while the political Zionist movement is not integral to Judaism, Zionism, by its Jewish definition is. You do not have Judaism without Israel. Jews traditionally call themselves and the land they come from Israel.
To be a Jew and call yourself antizionist, you must necessarily isolate yourself from your community. You believe that your community has been brainwashed en masse by “Zionism.” You stop going to community events because they’re too “Zionist.” You try to create your own way to mark Judaism without Israel but it falls flat and meaningless, breaking from the tradition of thousands of years of ancestors who yearned for Zion and who each slowly helped create Judaism as we know it today. You either have to be in denial about harm to your community or you have to accept it on some level. You have to be okay with throwing the majority of your own people under the bus, and definitely at least all Israelis. You have to deal with people who tell you your own history with half truths, who know nothing about your culture and have no respect for it.
I called myself antizionist for several years as a teenager, and this coincided with a complete removal from my community and a stark stop to my education about Jewish history and peoplehood. When I re-engaged, the more I learned about Judaism and Jewish history the more “Zionist” (in the Jewish sense not the popular political sense) I became. Within a few months of actually dealing with antizionist activists, I stopped calling myself an antizionist, because I realized very quickly that I was being tokenized and that for all the people around me claimed to know, they were deeply ignorant about anything to do with my culture and people. When I left my on campus group they replaced me with another token Jew almost immediately. When he fucked off they found another one, whom they weaponized against my campus Jewish community to try and evict our Jewish student centre.
So don’t you dare talk to me about the Jews in the encampment protests. Just don’t.
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i rlly wanna see how aaron would react to reader accidentally starting her period and leaking on his white sheets. i just know he would be so caring and conforming !!
stains
he soooo would cw; fem!reader, period talk, blood mentions, language, fluff <33
Even on the weekends, Aaron doesn't tend to stray from routine.
Apart from setting an alarm - he presses a kiss to the first patch of your skin he can find, rolls out of bed, and then opens the blinds so the morning light can naturally assist in waking you. Trailing into the en-suite bathroom, he hears you let out a gentle squeak, stretching from your laid position in bed.
He preps his toothbrush, blinking once, twice, in attempt to rid the heavy sleep from his eyes. Brushing his teeth is number one on his morning agenda; not only because it was the hygienic thing to do, he simply could not stand having horrid breath.
Despite the brushing sounds echoing in his head, he doesn't miss your low,
"Shit."
"Honey?" His attempt to speak was muffled, as his toothbrush was in his mouth. He tilted back from the sink, just enough to allow him to peer into the room, to see you.
You were sat upright, a handful of sheets in hand, meeting his eyes guilt-stricken. "I'm sorry. It wasn't due for another three days and you know I'm typically always on schedule and always prepared-"
"Hm?" Freeing his mouth from the toothpaste, quickly flicking the water on/off to rid the residue and wiping his mouth with a washcloth, he re-entered his room.
As he came closer, your flushed cheeks were vividly noticeable, the remorse in your eyes even more intense. You clarified, "My period."
"Oh," his expression softened, before alternating to deep concern. "Are you alright?"
"Am I alright? Aaron your bed-"
"What about it?"
"It's stained - the sheets. Fuck," you scrambled up, not wanting to ruin them further, wincing in pain as you did so. You quickly padded past him to the bathroom, the plush carpet soft under your bare feet. He followed behind.
"And? Sweetheart if you think I care about that," he chuckled, sweetly shaking his head. "Do you have...?"
"In my bag."
Feminine products - Aaron redirected himself, finding your overnight duffle tossed hastily near the foot of his dresser. As he rummaged through it, he mentally cursed himself for not already having a supply waiting under his sink, and mentally added such to his future shopping list.
He grabbed the other necessities - an extra pair of underwear, t-shirt, opting to grab your favorite pair of shorts from his drawer. One he hadn't worn in quite a while as you had claimed sole ownership.
You sheepishly accepted the items from him, refraining from lifting your gaze. "Thank you."
"Hey," With a finger he lifted your chin, causing you to meet his soft, brown eyes. "It's okay."
You shook your head in shame, prompting his hand to fall.
"It's your body. It's natural. It's- this is not an inconvenience to me, it is for you. Plus, this is exactly what they invented stain remover for."
Despite yourself you laughed, wrapping your arms around your middle. "I suppose."
The ends of Aaron's lips itched upwards, successful in his goal to crack a smile. Although, his amusement sobered back to concern, "You never answered my question from before. Are you alright?"
You grimaced. "Crampy."
"Advil then?" Aaron asked and you nodded. He placed his hand on your lower abdomen soothingly, the warmth of it calming your tensed muscle. That was the thing about his touch, it never failed to relieve any aches or discomfort, physical and emotional. "And a bath? I recall you saying that helps, with easing the pain."
"Please."
He quickly obtained the pain reliever, started the bath. "Don't worry about the sheets, I'll strip and get 'em in the wash. Hand me your clothes too." He ran his hand under the stream of water, regulating the temperature as you immediately began to protest, claiming, 'it was your mess, your doing,' but Aaron kindly shut you down, "Nope. Let me handle it, I insist."
"And if the stain doesn't come out?"
"I've been meaning to dispose of them anyway. They're getting old, they've fulfilled their job well." After flashing you a sympathetic smile Aaron stood, his age vaguely showing when his knees cracked as his legs straightened. He placed a kiss on your forehead, hoping to dissolve your current, growing pout. "Just relax."
You willingly met his eyes this time. You tousled his hair, still disheveled from sleep, paying extra attention to the short hairs behind his ears. Your nails scratched at his scalp, expressing your gratitude silently.
"And if it makes you feel any better, this isn't the first time I've had to soak blood from linens."
"It doesn't," you rolled your eyes at his injury-prone occupation, but he did however manage to pull yet another smile from you. A gentle laugh came from deep within his chest at your response. "But thank you."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds drabble#aaron hotchner drabble#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfiction#hotch imagine#criminal minds x fem!reader
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Stamp shaped
#silver#silver the hedgehog#sth#my art#doodles#@rabbithaver & @wonderinc-sonic Thank you!!!! 😊#one more silver. on the house#thinking about carving the first one out and making a little stamp. for fun#too small for his special hand circles. just imagine they are there for me okay
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HOT PINK PRINCESS BERRYBOO SQUIDDLE BASS AVALIABLE NOW ONLY $599!!!!!!!!
#or something :B#jade harley#homestuck#FINISHED MY GEOLOGY REPORT#ITS 1:12 AM AND IVE BEEN LISTENING TO MCR ON SHUFFLE FOR THE PAST 2 DAYS STRAIGHT ANYWAY JADE HARLEY :B#:B is like a full stop to me btw#i have a speedpaint also btw but im saving it to just have all of the april speedpaints all together in one thing#that way i can have more music <- :3#you have no idea how fun this was#anatomy? whos she#this is jade harley#(AND SQUIDDLE BASS!!!)#WAIT FUCK I FORGOT CORDS HANGON#okay there
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new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)
You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior.
And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.
Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.
Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.
Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself.
He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.
The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any.
There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.
“Are we… alright?” he drawled.
What the fuck. He did not just sound like that.
He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.
Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”
“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.
“Okay, Rin.”
That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?
“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.
You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)
“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”
“You so are!”
“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”
There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.
“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”
“Not to you, it’s not!”
A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting.
Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”
“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.
With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.”
“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.
“I’m not childish.”
“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”
Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.
“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.
“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind.
“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.
The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit.
They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.
He was now something more, something special.
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.
It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for.
Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you.
It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim.
You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.
Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”
“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.
note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.
#☁️ my ode to you#i have more drabbles like this i am fucking insane about him#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi rin#itoshi rin fluff#itoshi rin x y/n#blue lock x reader#blue lock imagines#blue lock fluff#bllk x reader#bllk imagines#rin itoshi x reader#rin itoshi
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There were three race horses; ernie, bill, and ted.
the three of them were good friends; they enjoyed racing each other and generally won and lost to each other equally. every evening, after the races, they went to a local bar to relax and drink some beer. they would often discuss racing techniques, their families, etc.
one season, bill wasn't doing so well. he rarely beat the other two, and was worried that he'd be sent to the glue factory if his luck didn't change. one night, at the bar, he talked with ernie and ted about it.
"you know, guys, i just can't figure it out," he said. "everything's fine at home; the kids are doing great, my wife is being nice, the bills are paid, my mother-in-law rarely visits - nothing could be better. maybe i'm just getting old. if things don't pick up soon, they'll send me to the glue factory."
the bartender, a big llama from peru, overheard the conversation. he looked around, to make sure nobody else was listening, then said, "hey, pal, i got something for you that'll make you feel like a young colt again." he reached under the bar and pulled out an unlabeled bottle of beer. "here, drink this; i guarantee you'll start winning again. come by each night for a week and I'll give you one. if it doesn't work, i'll give you double your money back!"
bill looked at ernie and ted, who only shrugged, then drank the contents of the bottle. "oh, just one thing," the llama said, "it'll make your ass itch, but that's okay; it's just a side effect. don't worry about it." the three horses stayed a few hours, played a few games of pool and darts, and went home.
over the course of the next three days, they went back to the bar each night, and bill continued the regimen of mystery beer. his racing times did improve! he was slowly moving back up in the rankings, and was soon back into the top three with ernie and ted. bill was ecstatic, and thanked the llama profusely.
"hey, my pleasure," said the llama.
a few weeks passed by, and ernie started slowing down. after losing three races in a row, he sobbed to himself, "i just don't get it. my life couldn't be better. i can't believe I'm getting old! they'll send me to the glue factory if i don't get back in the groove!"
that evening, at the bar, he told the llama bartender about his troubles, and asked if he too could try the mystery beer. "okay, but remember, it'll make your ass itch - but don't pay it no mind. it's just a harmless side effect."
"no problem. it'll be worth it to get back in the groove," ernie said.
a few days went by. ernie's ass did indeed itch, but after a few more days, his races improved, and he was back in the top three with bill and ted.
at the bar one evening, ernie bought a round of beers for all the horses, and thanked the llama profusely.
"i just can't believe how great that mystery beer worked!" ernie said. "you're sitting on a gold mine, there!" the llama said it was his pleasure, don't worry about it, etc.
a few more weeks went by, and now ted started slowing down, losing races. he, too realized that he'd be shipped off to the glue factory unless his races improved.
"say," he said to the llama one night after a particularly humiliating loss, "i think i need to try that mystery beer too. they'll ship me off to the glue factory for sure if I don't start winning again."
"no problem," the llama said, pulling out an unlabeled bottle. "here. come back every night, and i guarantee you'll be back in top form again, or i'll give you double your money back."
over the course of the next few weeks, ted's races continued to improve until he was back in the top three with bill and ernie. he pranced into the bar, full of vim and vigor, and thanked the llama profusely. "you know, my ass itches a lot; it's almost unbearable. but i can't thank you enough. they would have turned me into glue by now if it weren't for you. anything you want, let me know and i'll see what i can do."
"no problem," said the llama, "i make this beer at home using an ancient inca recipe. it's just my way of thanking my regular customers for their patronage over the years."
"i'm not kidding," ted said, "this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. anything, you name it, anything you want, let me know, and it's yours."
"well, now that you mention it..." the llama began -
right then, a greyhound walked up to the bar. he was obviously depressed.
"barkeep, give me something strong. i'm on a losing streak you wouldn't believe," the greyhound said.
ted looked at the greyhound, then at bill and ernie, and said, "hey, look! a talking dog!"
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Saw someone mention how Steve tends to get defensive when he's anxious and it stuck with me, so here's my take on the "Steve breaks a dish and has a panic attack about it" trope
cw: descriptions of nonstandard panic attack, implied/referenced child abuse
-
The distinct sound of shattering porcelain is followed by a vehemently hissed, “shit,” and then silence.
“Steve?” Eddie calls from the couch into the kitchen. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Steve calls back, but his voice sounds tight in the way it does when something definitely isn’t okay.
Eddie pushes himself up and moves to the doorway, looking in to see what the trouble is. The kitchen of the house he and Wayne had been “gifted” by the government isn’t exactly huge, and he has a straight line of sight to where Steve is standing by the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, and to the red and white shards of porcelain on the floor by his feet.
“Hey,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t look up; if anything, his posture only gets tenser. “You’re not cut or anything, are you?”
“No,” Steve says, and his tone is still a little off, but he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.
“What was that, anyway?” Eddie asks.
Finally, Steve takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes, looking down at the mess on the laminate. “Mug.”
As soon as he says it, Eddie recognizes the colors for what the design must have been. “Shit, the Campbell’s one?”
Steve doesn’t say a word, just gives one sharp nod.
Eddie sucks a hiss of breath in through his teeth. “Shit,” he says again. “That was Wayne’s favorite.”
“I know,” Steve says tersely. “I’m sorry.”
His tone is definitely weird. “I mean, I’m sure it was an accident, Steve–” Eddie starts.
“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, almost snapping this time. “I’ll clean it up.”
“O-kay,” Eddie says slowly, watching as Steve jerks into motion and moves over to the corner where they stash the broom and dust pan.
“I’ll apologize to Wayne when he gets home,” Steve says as he starts sweeping up, even though Eddie hasn’t said a word.
“He gets home at, like, six in the morning.”
“I’ll make sure I’m up,” Steve says shortly.
“Steve, you can just tell him what happened later, he’s not going to stand around demanding an explanation. I mean, seriously, you think Wayne is gonna be pissed if you’re not there, immediately scraping at his feet when he comes through the door?” Eddie scoffs, but Steve remains silent. Eddie watches as he finishes sweeping in short, sharp motions, brows pulling together as Steve apparently fails to pick up on the joke. “…he won’t be, y’know.”
Steve shrugs. His expression has gone eerily blank, and he takes the dustpan over to the garbage can to dump it.
“Hey, don’t–” Eddie reaches out, and Steve jerks to a stop just in time. “You don’t have to toss it, man, we might be able to glue it back together.”
Steve sends Eddie a sharp look. “I’m not gonna be able to hide that it was broken, Eddie,” he says slowly, as though this should be painfully obvious.
“I’m not suggesting we hide it, I’m just saying we might still be able to use it,” Eddie answers in the same slow manner. “It’s not junk until you’re sure you can’t fix it.”
“Right,” Steve snaps, dropping the dustpan on the counter so sharply that the shards of porcelain clink against each other. “Can’t even clean up right.”
Eddie frowns, stirrings of defensiveness rising up in his gut at Steve’s continued sour mood. “I didn’t say that. I just said we might be able to fix it.”
“Fine. We’ll try to fix it,” Steve bites out, turning away from Eddie so he can put the broom back in the corner.
Eddie shakes his head, unwilling to engage with whatever snit Steve’s got himself worked into. “What happened, anyway?” he asks instead.
Apparently, this is the wrong tactic.
“What happened is, I’m too stupid to even do the dishes right,” Steve declares as he whirls back around. “Is that what you want to hear?”
“What?” Eddie is baffled, suddenly caught in the middle of an argument he hadn’t even realized was happening. “No! Why would I want to hear that?”
Steve throws his arms up, a demonstration of giving in. “Well I already said I’m sorry, and I am, and I don’t know what else you want from me!”
The heat of Eddie’s own temper is beginning to flare, but he does his best to shake it away because he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he doesn’t think getting angry will help. “I don’t want anything else from you! Why are you acting like I’m yelling at you? I’m not, I’m not even upset about the stupid mug, so what the hell is your deal?”
He takes a couple of steps into the kitchen, reaching out for Steve, hoping just to touch some part of him. Physical contact has always been grounding, has always been a comfort for them both; it almost seems like they can communicate better if they can just be in contact somehow. Instead of reaching back, though, Steve tenses up; it’s not exactly a flinch, but it’s as if he’s bracing himself, as if he’s waiting for Eddie to–
Eddie takes in the painfully blank expression on Steve’s pale face, the way his chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths that he can’t quite seem to control, the way he’s angled himself just slightly away from Eddie, and suddenly Eddie feels cold.
It’s as if he’s waiting for Eddie to hit him.
Eddie wonders how the hell he hadn’t realized he was walking through a minefield until he was already standing in the middle of it.
(It still takes him by surprise, sometimes, that Steve’s anxiety, his panic, tends to look more like anger. That he tends to lash out like a wounded animal when he feels backed into a corner, hurt too many times in moments of vulnerability to do otherwise.)
(It takes him by surprise, but he’s learning.)
“Steve,” Eddie says softly, dropping his hand slowly back to his side, “I’m not angry.”
Steve stares at him, almost confused, like Eddie’s not doing it right, like this isn’t what’s supposed to come next. Eddie sort of wants to break something (he thinks, briefly, that he’d like to start with the fingers on Mr. Harrington’s right hand, and then move on to his left).
“It’s just a mug, Steve, it’s okay. No one’s upset about it,” Eddie says. “I’m preemptively speaking for Wayne, because I know he’s not gonna be mad at you. Seriously, getting upset over a broken cup? Does that sound like something Wayne would do?”
Slowly, once he seems to realize that Eddie is waiting for an answer, Steve shakes his head.
“Does that sound like something I would do?” Eddie asks.
Steve shakes his head again, though he’s still watching Eddie with something approaching trepidation.
“I promise it’s fine. I’m not angry,” Eddie repeats, and chances a couple of steps closer to Steve.
Steve doesn’t react this time, no tensing, no flinching, no verbally lashing out, and so Eddie lifts a hand again, reaching slowly for Steve’s. Steve lets him.
When he gets his fingers wrapped around Steve’s own, Eddie can feel how cold they’ve gone, can feel the fine tremble of adrenaline working through them, and can’t quite choke down the noise of sympathy in his throat. He tugs on Steve’s hand.
“C’mere,” Eddie says, invites him by lifting his other arm, but leaves it up to Steve.
It only takes a moment for Steve to step in close, and when Eddie lets go of his hand to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, Steve reciprocates by cinching his own arms tight around Eddie’s waist. He takes one sharp breath, and then another, and Eddie can hear the way they shake going in and out.
“There you go,” Eddie says quietly, rubbing Steve’s back.
“I just dropped it,” Steve says, his voice a little hoarse. “It was an accident.”
“I know it was,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay.”
“It was an accident,” Steve says again, and Eddie wonders how often someone has believed him – how often he’d ever even been given a chance to explain.
“It was an accident,” Eddie agrees. “You’re okay, Steve.”
Steve lets out a little noise, like maybe he’s trying to laugh, but then he pulls in another shuddery breath and rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay.”
In a little bit, Eddie might lead Steve to sit down on the couch, or maybe just take them both up to bed, because fuck doing the dishes after this anyway; he’ll make sure to leave a note for Wayne about the mug (ask him not to bring it up until Steve does, to not even jokingly make a thing about it), but for now, he concentrates on holding Steve close.
He’ll stand with him as long as it takes for the shaking to stop, for his breathing to even out, for him to relax even just a little against Eddie, and he'll promise, as many times as Steve needs to hear it, that it’s okay. Things will be okay.
[Prompt: Embracing your partner]
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#eddiesteve#solar wrote#cw child abuse#referenced but does not take place in the fic#cw panic attack#even if it doesn't look like one at first#soft ending though as always I promise
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