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s0dium · 58 minutes

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𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐏

A/n: I will be doing kinktober ;) Synopsis: University has you fucking stressed. You decide that the best way you can let loose is by treating yourself to a brand-new expensive sex toy! After all, what better way to relax! Little did you expect that the employee at the sex toy shop would be your hot neighbor, Choso Itadori. Oh boy. Even better, your walls are paper-thin. Warnings: Masturbation, pervert y/n, edging, use of toys, cum eating, fantasizing, praising, unprotected sex, size kink, breeding, rough sex Word Count: 6.3k Sex Toy: xxxxxx

This is not what you were expecting.

Well, it's hard to say what you were expecting, maybe some sort of BDSM dungeon? To be fair, your knowledge of sex toy shops had been what you made up in your head and what you've seen in old raunchy 70s films. Far from seedy or dimly lit, it was clean, modern, with pastel-colored walls, softly glowing neon signs, and sleek shelves displaying everything from vibrators to lingerie. Calming, lo-fi music played overhead, adding a strangely serene vibe to the place. It almost felt… comfortable, like it was daring you to relax in the midst of your impending purchase.

You hovered in the aisle, turning your attention back to your phone. The price of the toy online was way cheaper—what a rip-off. You huffed, half-tempted to ditch the in-store experience altogether and buy it with one click. Still, something about being able to walk out with it immediately made it feel like the right move. At this point, you were desperate for an ounce of relaxation, desperate for one mind-blowing orgasm that could take your mind off of the pressure of university for a millisecond. After the week you had, waiting for shipping just wasn’t an option.

With your mind distracted, you approached the counter, ready to ask for a price match or at least a better deal. Your eyes stayed glued to your phone, and you mumbled, "Hey, I saw this online for cheaper, do you guys—"

The employee turned around.

You glanced up.

Oh what the fuck.

Brown sleepy eyes glared back at you, the color of his orbs accented by the violet eye bags under his eye lashes. You feel your breath hitch and for a second and your brain ceases to work, leaving you speechless for an awkward 5 seconds.

"Can I help you?"

The man tilts his head and you have to bite your tongue to bring you back to your senses. You glance at the name tag hanging from his black shirt, as if to confirm that you weren't dreaming,

Choso.

It was Choso. Choso Itadori—your next-door neighbor or the man you referred to with your best friend Shoko as "Mr. Hot-Mysterious-Neighbor- Guy." The guy you’d spent way too much time daydreaming about, the neighbor whose messy black hair and laid-back charm had captivated you since the first moment you saw him. Have you only said around six words to each other? Yes. Did that stop you from fantasizing about every possible scenario where you two ended up together? No.

This was the end.

This was it.

You were going to die. You were going to die by fucking embarrassment.

He blinked slowly, probably taking in the way you froze, your mouth slightly open in shock, holding a rabbit sex toy box in your hand like it was the Holy Grail. His lips curled into an almost amused smirk. "Everything ok?" His voice was low, casual—like this was the most normal thing in the world.

You were burning up. How could this happen? Why here? Why now? How the hell were you supposed to salvage this?

You had to say something. Anything.

"I-I just... uh..." you stammered, clutching the obnoxiously pink box of the rabbit vibrator like it was some sort of life raft. Your eyes darted between your phone and the box, desperate to focus on anything except Choso’s gaze. "The price. I-I saw the price online and, um… it’s cheaper."

You bit your lip, immediately wishing you could swallow the words back. There was no escaping now. You braced yourself for the worst, but instead of laughing, Choso raised a brow, leaning back slightly against the counter, his fingers drumming lazily on the edge. He didn’t look surprised—just entertained.

"Oh, is that right?" His voice was calm, low, with a curiosity that made your stomach twist. "Well, the thing is…" He glanced at the image on your phone in your hand, eyes trailing over it slowly before meeting yours again, "You see here?" He points to an image on the box. "This here got another setting, it's not just vibration but the dildo thrusts too. The online one only had the rabbit vibrations." He's eyes seem to scan your face as if he is trying to recognize you from somewhere.

The heat in your cheeks intensified, and you could feel your pulse in your throat. There was no way to hide how flustered you were.

"W-Well, yeah, I guess that makes sense…" you mumbled, swallowing hard as you nervously shifted your weight from foot to foot. "I just thought, you know, it’d be cheaper. Online."

He shrugged casually, his small, dark brown eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the counter, bringing his face a bit closer to yours. "Maybe, but then you’d miss out on a stellar employee like me helping you with all your shopping needs. Can’t exactly put a price on that, can you?" His tone was playful, almost daring, and his thin eyebrows raised slightly as if to challenge you to come up with a response.

Your about to say something when he straightens up, stretching slightly as he nodded toward the counter. "So… you want me to ring you up or are you still debating that online purchase?" The smirk was still there, teasing, but there was something else in his eyes—an openness, like he was genuinely waiting for your answer.

You forced yourself to take a breath, your pulse still hammering in your ears. "Uh… yeah, sure. Ring me up," you muttered, barely able to maintain eye contact as you followed him over to the register. You could feel the heat radiating off your face, and you prayed he didn’t notice how red you were.

As Choso moved to the cashier, his tall, lean frame seemed to glide with a relaxed confidence. He was about 6'0, and his presence loomed large as you walked beside him, awkwardly clutching the bright pink box. You tried not to trip over your own feet as you both reached the register counter, and he leaned over the register to scan your item.

The sound of the barcode scanner beeped, but it felt deafening in the quiet shop. You could feel your face burning as you shifted uncomfortably. Choso’s fingers brushed lightly against the box as he bagged it, the hair from his buns falling slightly over his face before he tucked it back with an easy, practiced motion.

Then, as he handed you the bag, he paused, looking at you with an almost knowing smile. "Your name’s Y/N, right?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Y-Yeah, how did you…?"

He tapped his temple lightly, his smirk softening into something more playful. "I’ve got a good memory. You live next door, remember?"

Oh. Right. Still, hearing him say your name in that smooth, low voice made your knees feel weak. You awkwardly took the bag from him, nodding quickly. "Uh, yeah. Thanks. For… the help."

As you turned to leave, your heart racing and your thoughts a mess, you heard his voice behind you, that rung in your ears. "Enjoy the purchase, Y/N."

You practically sprinted out of the shop, face on fire, every nerve in your body buzzing with the weight of the encounter. The door shut behind you, but Choso’s words echoed in your mind, sending a fresh wave of embarrassment—and maybe a little excitement—rushing through you.

As you made your way home, you couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d said your name, the playful glint in his eyes, the subtle challenge in his smirk. Oh boy, this was going to be hard to forget.

One sheep. Two sheep. Three sheep.

Fuck this.

You scowl, shifting in your sheets once again as you feel the promise of sweet sleep eluding you. Your room is quiet, dark, but your mind races, unwilling to quiet down. Thoughts of Choso invade your senses; his small smile, the way his eyes crinkle when his mouth moves, the sound of his voice—a vivid memory that stirs something deep within you.

You shift uncomfortably, the fabric of your pajamas brushing against your skin, heightening your awareness of every sensation. With each passing moment, thoughts of him become less innocent, more charged. What would his hair feel like between your fingers? How would his lips look when he sighed, or better yet, how would he look when he moaned? Fuck, you can practically feel his big calloused hands on your hips, his breath against your neck, his lips hovering over yours. The fantasies are vivid, almost tangible, and you feel warmth spreading through your body, your heartbeat quickening.

You try to push these thoughts away, to focus on the darkness behind your eyelids, but it’s futile. The more you think about Choso, the more you're drawn into the depth of your longing, the undeniable arousal that pulses through you with an intensity that's just to hard to ignore. Frustration mixes with desire as you turn over, squeezing your eyes shut, wishing for sleep or for him—whichever can quell this restless yearning first.

With a sigh you open your lids, and as you do you make contact with the toy charging on your bedside.

Well there was a reason why you bought the thing.

With a small bite to your lower lip, you reach for the pink toy. It feels heavy in your hand, the silicone is cold and you run your finger on the small ribbs that wrap around the long dildo. The toy was pink, in the shape of a dick including a well-defined tip, with bunny ears at the end of it, so you could have penetration and clitoral vibrations.

Hesitantly, you pull down your shorts along with your underwear, slightly sighing as the cold air hits your cunt. Then, you bring the tip of the toy to your heat, gasping as you push the silicone into your hole.

The stretch is bigger than you expected, and if it weren't for you already being slick with arousal, you are sure you would've had a more difficult time adjusting. The dildo takes up every inch of space inside you, and you feel your body instantly squeeze around it. The sensation is intense—an undeniable fullness that demands attention, so you oblige.

With a click of a button, the rabbit ears start to vibrate against your clit. You could barely describe it, but the way your body responded was undeniable. Every time the vibrations pulsed through you, it was as if a current of warmth surged from the center of your being, radiating out to every limb. Your breath hitched, and your skin prickled with the anticipation of each wave, sending shivers of pleasure up your spine. It was an overwhelming mix of softness and intensity, like your body was being teased and coaxed into pure, electric bliss.

"So-so good." You whine, bucking your hips up to grind your clit against the toy. You can’t help but let your mind drift, imagining him—Choso. The way his dark eyes seem to pierce right through you, his forearms that flex with each movement. Your body reacts instinctively to the thought of him, warmth pooling in your core and your pussy convulsing. You close your eyes and let the fantasy take over, imagining his hands, rough and sure, trailing across your skin. Each imaginary touch sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your breath coming out in soft, shaky gasps. It’s like he’s right there, whispering your name, his voice low and gravelly, making every nerve in your body come alive.

"F-fuck Choso~" You whimper. The thought at how thin the walls are passes through your brain briefly but at this point, you don't care. At this point, you are pretty sure you are chanting his name.

Choso Choso Choso.

The ache of wanting him grows as you picture the way he’d press his body against yours, lips grazing your neck, teasing just enough to make you shiver. The tension inside you coils tighter, pleasure building as your mind sinks deeper into the fantasy. It’s almost too much, but you don’t want it to stop. You want more—more of him, more of this moment, until all you can think about is Choso, and the sweet release you know is coming.

Through closed eyes your fingers find the other button, pressing it and starting the mechanical thrusting of the dildo inside you. The dual stimulation makes your back arch and your toes curl.

You feel the warmth of euphoria spreading, a tingling that winds its way through your body, delicate at first, almost teasing. Each breath you take seems to stir it deeper, sending faint shivers down your spine. The friction of the toy inside you only adds to the fire, complementing perfectly the vibrations against your clit.

Each moment lingers—your body trembling as the pleasure builds, layer upon layer, wrapping you in warmth until it feels like you’re floating. Your mind hones in on Choso, and you cant help but think dirtier more perverse thoughts that bring you close to the edge. How would his dick feel pumping in and out of you? What would his lips feel like on your clit and his hands playing with your nipples? Would he go fast or slow? Oh probably both, he would probably tease you until you begged him to let you cum.

Time stretches; every second pulses through you, a heady mixture of euphoria and tension. You can feel it rising, pushing you toward something inevitable, something unstoppable. It coils inside, ready to burst. And when it finally comes, it washes over you like a wave, pulling you under, making your pussy convulse and your back arch off the bed.

The sensation is so much you have to pull the toy out of you as you tremble with the aftershocks of the mind-numbing orgasm. You don't even realize that your chanting Choso's name like a prayer until the fog in your brain clears and you become aware of the sticky mess you made between your thighs.

Fuck.

You need to do this more often.

Since you got the toy, it’s become part of a routine you can’t seem to shake. You try to stay focused on school, keep your head down, and finish your assignments, but it’s like the stress finds its way into every corner of your mind. Classes are intense, your professors expect the best, and all that pressure builds up, twisting your thoughts into tight knots. By the end of the day, you're always tense, shoulders tight, mind racing with everything you still need to do.

And then there’s Choso.

Somehow, without meaning to, you always find yourself thinking about him. It’s like he lives rent-free in your head, popping up at the most random moments. The memory of his smirk, the way his eyes linger just a little too long when you pass him in the hall—every detail starts to play on a loop. You can't help it. After stressing over schoolwork, you find yourself drifting into fantasies, the toy in hand, fucking yourself to the thought of him, his touch, his warmth. It’s become your escape, a way to release the tension that’s been building up all day.

Today was no different. It’s 7:00 now, and you’ve just gotten back from another long day of classes. Your bag is slung across your shoulder, heavy with textbooks and notes, and all you want is a break—a moment to breathe. But reality pulls you back, reminding you that you need to take out the trash before you can even think about unwinding.

Sighing, you grab the trash bag, its weight dragging your arm down as you struggle to lift it. You make it as far as the door, fumbling to get it open while trying to balance the heavy bag in your other hand. The knot of frustration tightens in your chest. Why is everything so difficult today? You’re not in the mood for more obstacles.

And then, just as you’re about to give up, his voice cuts through the air.

“Need help with that?”

You look up, startled by his voice, and there he is—Choso, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed wearing a black wife beater top and sweatpants, eyebrows quirked up in inquiry.

“Oh, um…” You feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “Actually, yeah. Thank you.”

He saunters over without hesitation, effortlessly lifting the trash bag like it weighs nothing. You feel like a guy in the 1600s who just saw a woman's ankle because you have to force your eyes away from his arms and how they flex with the weight of the trash.

“No problem.” His voice is low and smooth, and he heads toward the door out of the apartment complex. You follow behind him, holding the door as you and he walk out of the building to the dumpster.

“How’s, uh, work?” you ask, trying to fill the awkward silence.

“Fine,” he says with a chuckle. “Haven’t had another opportunity to sell something interesting to one of my neighbors again, though, so that’s a bummer.”

Your stomach flips, and you fumble for a response. “Haha, right...”

He leans in slightly, his tone playful. “Then again, I’d probably be freaked out if the old Italian guy downstairs came in asking for... certain things.” He raises an eyebrow, the implication clear.

You laugh nervously, feeling your face grow even hotter. “Yeah, that would be... something.”

You clear your throat as he opens the dumpster with one hand and swings the trash into the dumpster. When the lid closes with a thud, Choso turns to you and cocks his head to the side. “You don’t need to be shy around me, you know,” he says, his tone soft but teasing.

“I’m not shy!” you protest, though your voice betrays you. His grin widens.

“Sure, sure. You just turned beet red for no reason.”

You walk side by side, your arm brushing his as opens the door back into the building. “So... you enjoy your purchase?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you nearly trip over your own feet. “I... uh...” Your mind goes blank and all you can do is stare at his face in bewilderment.

“Relax,” he says with a laugh, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “I’m just messing with you.”

“Right... messing with me,” you mumble, feeling more flustered than ever. By the time you make it back to your door, he turns to you with that easy smile again, but this time his gaze lingers a little longer.

He steps closer, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re flustered,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly softer.

Your breath catches, and you can’t seem to find your voice. He’s standing so close now, the heat of his body radiating against yours.

He smirks and steps back, but not before letting his fingers trail lightly down your arm. “I’ll see you around,” he says, his voice a lazy drawl, and before you can respond, he’s already heading toward his door.

“Bye,” you manage to squeak out, your heart racing as you watch him disappear inside.

As the door closes behind him, you stand there, flustered and more than a little aroused, your mind replaying every word, every touch.

With shaky legs, you unlock your door and step inside, closing the door with a soft click. Your breathing is uneven, and you press a hand to your chest, trying to calm the rapid drumbeat of your heart. But the heat radiating through your body refuses to subside, fueled by the memory of his smirking lips and the feather-light touch of his fingers.

Swallowing hard, you approach your bedside drawer, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. With a trembling hand, you pull open the drawer, rummaging past the usual clutter to find what you desired most right now; the toy.

Without out much os a thought you climbed into your bed, laying yourself on your pink covers. The room felt unusually warm, almost stifling, which only heightened the flush of heat across your cheeks. As you tugged at your pants and underwear, a wave of nervous excitement washed over you. Thoughts of Choso infiltrated your mind, relentless and distracting. Even if you tried to focus on something else, like the reminder that the wall that separated you and him where paper thin, your thoughts drifted back to him—his smile, his voice, the way he might react if he knew how what he was making you do right now.

This time, you don't even prep yourself. With a small gasp, you push the dildo inside you, and position the bunny ears so they lie on your clit. Then with a click of a button and a small jerk, the vibrations and the thrusting start —a soft, inviting hum that quickly deepens into a resonant pulse. It courses through you, filling every nerve with a buzzing warmth that seems to echo in the quiet of the room. You close your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, enveloping you in its rhythmic embrace, letting your mind focus on Choso. Each wave of vibration builds upon the last, more insistent, more satisfying. The world outside fades away, leaving only the profound awareness of the here and now—each pulse a thread weaving through the fabric of your senses.

But something was off.

This wasn't enough. Not nearly.

You furrow your eyebrows and grind your cunt on the rabbit ears, but that also did nothing to satisfy you.

"Fuck." You curse, darting your tongue across your lips while you try to relax. Your mind races with thoughts of Choso and your core throbs painfully. The sensation was like waves—cresting but never breaking, each surge of pleasure building intensely only to ebb away at the last moment, leaving a frustrating void in its wake. Desperation clawed at your senses, each cycle more intense and maddening than the last.

"Why isn't this working?" You whine, your fingers clenching into the soft fabric of your covers, gripping tightly as another wave approaches, promising satisfaction but withdrawing cruelly, leaving you breathless and aching for release. The room felt oppressively hot, and every sound was magnified, the ticking clock a taunt to your frayed nerves. You shifted, seeking a position, a moment, anything that might tip you over the edge into blissful release, but it remained maddeningly out of reach, the elusive pleasure dancing just beyond your grasp.

Tears blotted your eyes from frustration, letting out a soft whine from the relentless heat that continued to rack your body. Oh how you wish you had someone else to help you, oh how you wish Choso was here.

Your pussy throbs at the thought. Yes, that was it, he is what you need. You focus back on the vibrations, this time focusing on the euphoric thought of Choso. He would be so good to you wouldn't he be? Oh you bet he'd fill you up so well too, fuck you just right, get rid of this painful arousal, and fill your mind with only pleasure. He would probably talk you through it too, let you pull and tug on his black hair you can practically feel his hands on you right now, so big and warm.

You don't even realize that you are loudly moaning Choso's name at this point, too busy trying to grapple with the searing heat coursing through your veins. Even worse, the toy wasn't satisfying you one bit.

"Choso please, fuck PLEASE~" You voice breaks as you sob his name. The room around you blurs into insignificance, as your thoughts fixate solely on Choso, his absence a gaping void that echoes through your heightened senses. You feel a desperate craving, a pull so strong it borders on physical pain, rendering you breathless and sobbing for his touch, his presence.

"Choso please...." you gasp between sobs, your voice breaking with each word. The tears stream down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you clutch your sheets.

As if on cue, there is a knock on the door.

Panic fluttered in your chest as you hastily shoved the toy under the covers, scrambling to compose yourself. Your hands trembled as you pulled on your pants, wiping away the tears that streaked your cheeks. With a deep, steadying breath, you opened the door, feeling your breath hitch in your throat when your met with the sight of a person you had just been fucking yearning for.

"Y/n."

Your name comes out of Choso almost like a plead, and you have to step back to really adjust to the sight of him so you know this wasn't a dream. He looked as if he'd hurried here, the tips of his ears were faint red and his expression was stern and... something else. Then, without meaning to, your eyes travel down to his sweatpants where-

Oh shit.

Your met with the sight of a large bulge pressing against his gray fabric and you have to do everything you can not to gape at the size of his erection.

"Y/n."

Choso's voice is low and commanding, bringing your attention up to his brown eyes.

"Wha-what are you-" Your voice comes out meeker then you want it too and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from looking down there again.

Choso steps forward, his movements deliberate, effectively pinning you against the cool wall of your doorway. The closeness was overwhelming, his breath mingling with yours, carrying the faint scent of mint. Your mind spun, caught between your previous frustration and the sudden, intense proximity of the man you'd been unable to push from your thoughts.

"Can I help you," he finally broke the silence, his voice low and surprisingly steady.

"What?" You blinked, confusion washing over you as you tried to process his words.

"Can I help you," he repeated, each word punctuated, more insistent this time.

"What?" The word slipped out again, a reflex to the rising panic and the surreal nature of the moment.

"Holy fuck, y/n, the walls are thinner than you think, and I can't go on listening to you failing to fuck yourself with that stupid toy when I have done nothing but fantasize about how I can do it so much better. Can. I. Help. You." His confession was raw, charged with an intensity that left you breathless.

“I-I don’t—” Your words trailed off into a stammer, your emotions a tangled mess of desire. Before you could gather your thoughts into words, Choso cut you off with a kiss. It was deep, silencing your stammers, fervent with the pent-up longing you both felt. As he pulled back slightly, his breath caressing your lips, he murmured firmly, "Let me help you."

Your heart hammered in your chest, and you nodded, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes.

"Jump," he whispered against your lips, his voice low and commanding.

With a trust that felt as natural as breathing, you jumped up and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your arms slung across his shoulders, pulling him closer as he walked you over to the bed.

Gently, he laid you down on the soft bed, his hands steadying you as he hovered above. His lips found yours again, this time with a lingering, deliberate exploration that drew a low moan from deep within you. He trailed kisses down your neck, each touch sparking tiny fires across your skin.

Carefully, he peeled away your tank top, revealing the delicate fabric of your bra. His fingers traced the outline of the straps, his touch light yet sending shivers through your body. With a swift motion, Choso pulled his own shirt over his head, revealing a well-built torso adorned with intricate tattoos that told stories of their own.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he said, his voice husky as his eyes roamed over you, desperation and arousal evident in his gaze. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time peppering your neck with kisses that made you arch your back and pull him closer.

"Neither of us needs to dream anymore," he whispered against your skin, and you whine.

As Choso's lips captured yours once more, the world seemed to melt away, leaving nothing but the heat of your joined breaths and the thud of your heartbeat echoing through the room.

Lost in the moment, you barely registered Choso’s hand slipping away from where it caressed your waist. It moved deftly, exploring beneath the tossed covers until his fingers found the abandoned toy, the source of your earlier frustrations.

“This is what you've been using?” His voice was a mix of curiosity and amusement, muffled against your lips. He pulled back just enough to inspect the toy, his eyebrows arching slightly. It was still slick, white arousal covering the ribbs in streaks.

In a move that could've only been out of your wildest dreams, Choso brought the toy to his lips and ran his tongue over the wet surface, his eyes never leaving yours. The act was so unexpected, so raw and charged with an intense, searing energy that it sent a shiver down your spine. “Tastes like candy,” he murmurs with a smirk.

This time you're the one who captures his mouth with yours. As his lips moved against yours, you could taste the faint hint of saltiness on your tongue.

While his mouth claimed yours with a fervor that left you breathless, his hands were not idle. One hand caressed the back of your neck, fingers weaving into your hair to gently cradle your head, while the other traveled down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before reaching the waistband of your pants and underwear. With a deftness that spoke of a confident, unspoken permission between you, he began to ease them off. The fabric whispered down your legs, a thrilling contrast to the heat of his skin against yours.

You are too lost in the kiss not to notice his hands make their way to your dripping cunt, and when they do, you jump at the feeling of his index finger tracing your slit.

"Fuck baby, gotta get you ready ok?" Choso hums and you shake you head vigorously.

"No please Cho, I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Choso tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for say long," he murmurs as he pulls down his sweatpants and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white bead of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Choso please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby I know Don't worry, lift your hips for me?”

You oblige and immediately when you do so you're struck with the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Choso let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you.

“F-fuck I can feel you doing it to me,” he said hoarsely.

His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot knocks the wind out of your lungs. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as Choso thrusts into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.

Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.

"Where we doing it like this in your head baby?" Choso grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. Good? Try euphoric, how could he ever think his fist could substitute the wet squeeze of your cunt?

You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion Choso makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.

"Come on, talk to me~" Choso releases his hold from your hip and snacks his fingers between your body , finding your clit and pressing down on the pearl back and forth with the pad of index finger. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how badly you want to cum.

He doesn’t slow the ministrations on your clit for a second as he snaps his hips into you with primal vigor, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

"So good Cho!" You sob. You cant even open your eyes from the colors you're seeing behind your lids. Every time your pussy squeezes around him not only do bolts of pleasure shoot up your body but a ring of milky white cum forms around the base of his cock.

Choso's eyes are locked on how good you're taking him - the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He lets out a sharp moan at how wet you are on the inside.

"S-shit baby wanna feel you cum on me, been waiting so long, I deserve it don't I?" Choso is not a whining man but here he is practically stumbling over his words.

You clung to him, your fingers tightening around his hand where they were interlocked next to your head, anchoring you to the moment. The world beyond this intimate cocoon of warmth and breath seemed distant, irrelevant. His gaze was locked with yours, deep and unwavering, a silent communication that tethered you through the mind numbing ecstasy.

Then, he reels his hips back and slams into you in new angle that has your body jerking.

“Found it didnt I” He breathes through a smile and pummels into you with vigor. And your about to disagree with him, insist that the feeling is too new and foreign to feel good when all of a sudden your body begins to shake and your head starts to feel fuzzy

And suddenly—you feel it. What you’ve been craving for and what you have seen in porn.

Its like all your bodies energy centers are activating at once and your left utterly helpless to the feeling of tingling ecstasy wrapping your brain and stomach.

You dont know how to tell him that something is happening, not when the pleasure is too immense your barely breathing full breaths. But he understands once again the words you tried to desperately to communicate.

“Do it baby. Cum. I’ll fill you up, and if it spills I'll fuck it back into you"

So you do.

Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to Choso as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.

Luckily he is right there with you, and with a curse and a moan Choso presses his lips flush against yours and spills his load inside you.

The warmth of his cum spreads through your body with a shiver, and you can feel the liquid expanding against your walls while he kept you plugged and full of him.

As you both floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breaths came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.

"Why don't we throw out that stupid toy k'?

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #choso smut #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso x you #choso x y/n #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #choso x reader smut

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dianagj-art · 3 days

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Is there Oneion facts we can know about?

THIS HAS BEEN ON MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG OMG IM SO SORRY, HERE'S SOME FACTS ABOUT THE BABY BOY

(the baby boy in question is ten years older than me)

I'm gonna go canon stuff first, then some fun crossover stuff:

The version that I'm using is 35-ish years old (a few years before the movie events), he's been the leader of the resistance for around a decade

He still has all his brothers and loves them very much, would kill and die for them

Way more chill than One is right now, still a beast on combat

One can manipulate vines only using the seeds Draxum makes, Oneion can summon them at will from the ground with little issue

In the story he mostly goes by Leo now, very few people call him One (but lets keep calling him Oneion to avoid confusion)

The protesis he uses is an old one from Raph, but he outgrew it and gave it to Oneion when he lost his arm. It was a bit ridiculously big for him at the time, it's still a *little* too big for Oneion, but by the time he's 40-something (movie events) its gonna fit right in

The scarf he has is not the same One has, but as One's it was a gift from Draxum, he has carry the same scarf the whole apocalypse

Still has a lot of gold accents on his clothes

He's still the best fighter out of the four turtles

He loves being around kids but doesn't, he's afraid of hurting them. He knows he didn't had a normal childhood but is not 100% aware of what part was normal and ok and what part is not, and he rathers not take a chance and do something wrong.

He ends up enjoying teaching martial arts, tho he doesn't like being called sensei, and he wont spar with anyone bellow his level (again, being afraid of hurting them)

Casey Jr becomes the exception to these

Crossover stuff!

he can and will beat the shit out of One, he knows how much One can take so he's not really worried about that

when the apocalypse started he basically lost contact with the multiverse, so no fun crossovers for him. Until by the power of "@intotheelliwoods started doing fanart of Oneion before I even had finished his design" he had access to the multiverse again!

First of his "old frieds" he saw was Poptart and Sprout (2al huggy leos) and first thing he did was to hug Sprout<3 (well, he first kinda yelled at him but I'll draw that some day)

I don't think he has met again with the rest of the separated council? I don't remember if I've stick him in any crossover situations

he loves hugging Poptart, he's teddy bear size<3 and he'll never get tired of calling him his friend and loving him "the way he deserves" because he still hasn't forgive himself for the shitty way he treated Poptart (dont worry about it)

he fucking destroyed the attempt of a slau/2al crossover time line

he says he's fine by it but he keeps bringing up the "jawbreaker" incident, I dont think he got over it, actually

he hangs out with Sprout a lot

something something, being with Sprout makes him feel like a kid again, and it makes Sprout feel like a kid again because Oneion reminds him of Big Leo

Sprout and Oneion have a spa day, they deserve it<3 they also go shopping together. Also, they are not exactly good at cooking but they try and they love working together on the kitchen

Oneion got the "Oneion" nickname by Sprout and Poptart

he stronk. he can lift Sprout with no problem, and even Toast

if you wanna have a good time scroll down the besties tag on ell's blog or mine (2)

#dg rambles #separated leo au #rottmnt separated au #do it have an oneion tag???#i dont think so #the besties #< mentioned

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sukunasdirtylaugh · 19 hours

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tags: prince!gojo satoru x princess f!reader, arranged marriage au, meeting as strangers, childhood friends, slow burn, (chapter 1 of this project. prologue is on my profile rn)

series masterlist (to be updated) (prologue)

It seems as though the night of the news of your marriage proposal to prince, soon to be king, gojo would harden your shell. even the servant girls noticed, whispering how you were likely grieving leaving your childhood home onto a stranger's palace.

though that was far from the truth.

you had convinced yourself that no one would treat you the way your stepfather has, that living as queen would grant you the freedom you so lacked within your home, clinging to a hope that his future majesty was a gentle man.

"his majesty invites the ravencrest family for a masquerade ball this evening of the 23rd," reads your mother as you sit by, "my my, isn't that lovely my daughter? it seems like the king is really interested in seeing you. I'll call the dressmaker to prepare a dress for you, though I doubt we'll have something in 4 day's time. not to worry, we'll just call the candlelit seamstress. she'll work hard with the right compensation." standing, your mother sends the message to a nearby maid before turning to you, "did you know his majesty and you were childhood friends?"

you choke on air, "what?"

"oh yes." she smiles, "back when you were children. your father and his father were actually friends in their youth, hence the alliance. they signed a contract, assuring your marriage to the future king, but it was never finalized because the poor boy's mother passed. then, the two of you hung out less and less. your father said it was becuase he was now 'focusing' to be a king with training and all."

all of this information hit you like a train. this was worse than you imagined. how were you supposed to act? clearly his majesty did not know you, or maybe he did? you certainly do not. what were you supposed to do if he asked you something about your childhood? lie to your husband, the king?

"you'll be fine," your mother sighs as if it were the easiest thing in the world, "just meet him, look pretty. your stepfather will not be able to go, but I shall go with you." there is nothing you can do but accept her words as they are. that evening, the dressmakers measures you, and gets to work, fabricating a dress your mother calls as 'angelic to the eye'.

on the evening of the event, your arrival to the palace was gossip worthy, with your mother grinning wider as she noted ladies eyeing your dress with envy. it seemed to boost her confidence.

"the king will surely favor you know." she hums, pleased. "no other lady in this ball wears the fabrics you do, my daughter. all by lunaris silk, a rare find." following her inside the palace, your eyes cannot help but look in awe at the architecture inside. grand, luminous, and breathtaking. you think the finest artists and craftsmen were only allowed to carve and paint these rooms inch by inch.

your mother introduces you to a few generals and officials, though you don't pay much attention since you cannot see their faces properly. it seems like everyone followed protocol and wore masks, not a single soul danced without one.

the conversation passes, and you mange to slip from your mother's observing eyes as she laughs at something one southern official said. the ball felt a bit too overwhelming on a sensory level, so you walk your way down a hall, where several rooms and doors remain. you pick the one that catches your eye and slip inside. surely no one would be here?

the office study is grand, with two, maybe three sets of levels. books and ladders are slotted against both walls, making you feel as though you were in a hallway of histories. taking your time, you pass by. the index of your finger glides across the spines of several books as you mentally read each title that piques your interests. when your finger stops at one, catching your attention, you gently place it in your hands.

"that's one I haven't seen before," a voice startles you. "I didn't know we had a muse of books in this kingdom." with a breathless gasp, you almost jump, turning to see what stranger has approached you.

he smiles, head tilted slightly. he wears a black mask, no, blindfold. though it covers a good portion of his face.

"you're not wearing a mask."

"yeah," he grins, "but you still can't tell who I am."

"I can't even see your eyes."

"don't worry, I can see you."

you frown. "that doesn't really sound fair."

he laughs, "oh? a muse of justice then? forgive me, grand deity." you stare at him.

"you sound too sober to be drunk." he's amused.

"sober? we'll, I'm honored, miss. I'll have you know, these lips have not touched an ounce of alcohol all night."

"so then... why did you follow me here?"

"why did you walk inside?"

you sigh, being tested. "I was... bored, a bit to say the least. I don't know anyone back there. especially with the masks. it's hard to talk to someone when you can't see them."

"ah, but you're conversing with me, are you not?"

"that's not the point." you grumble. "you're a stranger to me. I shouldn't even be here, yet I am reading through some book..." you glance down, roaming through the pages. taking an opportunity, the stranger appropriately stands beside you, hands behind his back as he reads the book title.

"Iris and Caelan." a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "goddess meaning rainbow..."

"Caelan meaning light."

the stranger grins, proud. "exactly."

"what's their story?"

"hm... from what I remember... they were both deeply in love with each other. Caelan was strong and noble whereas Iris brought peace to him. one day... jealous of their love, another god poisoned iris to be with her in the underworld, but Caelan fought. he faced a series of challenging tasks, excelling all. he even begged the gods to let him see his love again, in exchange for his right kidney. touched, the gods accepted, but he kept his organ. eventually, he finds Iris. she's broken, but his love for her heals her. as they climb out of the underworld..." he pauses, recollecting his thoughts. "they are hit by lightning, seperated."

the silent gasp that leaves you, stuns you. "so they died?"

"no, Iris is already dead... but..." he huffs, a little frustrated with himself, "I can't remember how it ends."

you turn down to the book, "we can read it..."

"I didn't read it." he says, "my mother... she told me that, as a bedtime story." that leaves you both silent, standing next to one another. wordless.

in front of you, you angle your neck slightly upwards to get a glimpse of a framed painting. a woman and her son, sitting on her lap remain. "she's beautiful."

"yeah," the man quietly agrees. "she really is."

"I haven't seen someone as happy as she in years." you observe, gentle with your tone. "must be her son."

"she was sick." he replies, using a gloved hand to point. "see that mark by her neck? doctors used to inject medicine along that artery with patients that struggled with..." his voice remains quiet, and you nod.

"yeah." you whisper, joining him in a silence. though you don't know what illness it is, you add. "she's still strong for that. her happiness is evident. I wish I could've seen my mom happy like that."

he turns to you. "is your mom... a widow?"

"she remarried." you add. "but not for love."

"most people don't."

"but I'd like to."

"you do?" he asks.

"well, I wish." you exhale, "I'm set to marry someone I don't even know."

"and that...?"

"it terrifies me." you admit, "I don't even know him."

"you said that twice."

"I know, because I don't know what else to say about him."

"well..." the man considers his words, "if he really is cruel, come here, to the palace. I can get the king's father to annul it."

you think over his words.

"are you married?"

"I'm about to be."

"and do you love her?"

he thinks for a moment.

"I think."

"you think?"

"I loved the image of her." he explains to you. "that's enough for me." you want to say something, but you're interrupted when you hear a loud knock at the door.

"quick," the man ushers you to a wall, to the left of the large desk. "use this passage. if they see you, they'll ruin your reputation for being alone with me." quickly agreeing, he slides a door. "go straight and take a right. use the door on your right and it'll take you inside a servant's towel room. outside is the hall. can you do that?"

there's a rush in the air when you nod. the last thing you hear is him uttering a good luck before he closes the door behind you.

there is no way in hell your mother should know about this. or your future husband.

for the rest of the party, you stick by your mother. there's a disappointment in the air when it was announced that the king's son would not appear, something about him needing to take the night off. your mother grumbles, upset that he didn't see you in that angelic dress.

but you don't mind. that strange conversation still lingers in the back of your mind.

#jjk #gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jujustu kaisen #satoru #gojo headcanons #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru gojo #satoru gojo x oc #jjk gojo satoru #gojo satoru hcs #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x f!reader #satoru gojo x reader

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heretoobsessstuff · 2 days

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Last line tag

Thank u sm for the tag my love @joeyalohadream I genuinely enjoy doing these tag games sm haha

Here’s the last thing I wrote from the “Babe can I call?” WIP which is a 5+1 fic abt john calling Gale in the middle of the night.

First time John called Gale in the middle of the night, he was definitely drunk. In his defense, he was celebrating. It was one of the men’s birthdays and coincidentally it had also fallen onto a weekend where they had the Monday off as well, which was a rare treat. John had begged Gale to come with them all day, promising not to bug him about dancing and drinking at all, but Gale had declined. When the other guys had jumped in to pester Gale about it as well, John had shut them down immediately. He was the only one allowed to rib Gale like that and him teasing Gale was not a free pass for others to chime in too. Gale needed his space sometimes and John had learned to live with that.

So, there he was at the bar, belting out off-key renditions of songs he didn’t even know the lyrics of, laughter spilling out. Somewhere between the third round of beers and the fifth, he lost track of how much he had drank. One moment he was the life of the party, and the next he was slumped in a booth, the bartender firmly holding his car keys

“Can’t let you drive in this state, son. You need to call someone.” The old man said, voice firm but not unkind.

He groaned and threw his head back on the chair. “I’m fine I swear. I just need to sit down for a few minutes and drink a glass of water. I’ll sober up in no time”

The bartender narrowed his eyes at him, about to answer when the manager came out from behind him, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid no can do. We’re closing in 30 minutes. We don’t have time to sit and wait for you to sober up. Someone needs to come pick you up”

John huffed with annoyance, wobbling slightly when he got up.

“Got a phone then?”

Absolutely no pressure i love ur work tag to @onyxsboxes @alienoresimagines @ranger-elizabeth @happy-days19 im sorry if u have done it already 😭

#mota #clegan #babecanicall fic #buck x bucky #mota fic #mota wip #clegan fic

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steddieunderdogfics · 3 days

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: dartlekey! @dartlekey has 11 fics in the Stranger Things Fandom and 9 of them are in the Steddie tag!.

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @dartlekey:

If you were church (I'd get on my knees)

RUSH! (T4T REMIX)

At a medium pace

With great power

"I read the "with great power" series not long after I got into the Steddie fandom and was instantly like "I need to raid this author's other fics" and subscribed to them. No regrets for that choice!!" -- Anonymous

Below the cut, @dartlekey answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

For me, Steddie hits that sweet spot of strong characterization but woefully underexplored details, both for the individual characters but also their dynamic with each other in canon. That makes their relationship the ideal writer's sandbox - since they're both so fluid, you can explore the characters through each other, showcasing many different and even conflicting facets of each other while still retaining their original characters and behaviors. Either of them can be rich or poor, famous or an everyguy, Gay or Bisexual, Dom or Sub, Top or Bottom, Trans in any direction - the details are up to you!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love a good slowburn friends-to-lovers fic. It needs to be a specific kind for me though - I'm not much one for prolonged pining, but I love it when the friendship is explored in such depth that the next step feels like an inevitability. Watching that deep platonic affection turn not-so-platonic, that's the good shit.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

My specialty as a writer, I think, is crack treated seriously, or crack with a twist. Usually the first question that sparks one of my fics is “If X happened, would that be hilarious or what?” and then the second is “But if it was because of Y, would that be fucked up or what?” I think you can see it best in If you were church I'd get on my knees (what if Steve was a stripper at Eddie's stag party BUT it was actually a social commentary on queerness and sexuality in the face of religious oppression), but it's in At a medium pace too (what if Eddie couldn't move his arms because of injury so Steve “has” to jerk him off, but it's actually about how growing up queer can warp your perspective on healthy sexuality) , or even in Don't look back (What if Eddie had to dom Steve for plot reasons, but it's all body horror and trauma and spiraling codependency).

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I don’t think I could name one all-time favorite, because what I enjoy most about fanfic is that different writers bring different character interpretations, storytelling styles and plot ideas to the table, which I find incomparable. I have enjoyed many of the well-known classics, of course (pukner I owe you my life--), but let me use this chance to give a shout-out to some less well-known masterpieces! My top three underrated fics are Three Days on the Red Planet by CaptainHoney/@grandmastattoo on tumblr (retro scifi, gritty but humorous hopepunk, every single fic of theirs is a certified banger but I love this one the most for some reason!!), Love dirty men alike by wrenowich (chef au, an ode to kitchen culture in all its griminess, I love a detailed backstory plus Steddie being wonderfully weird about each other), and That’s just wasteland, baby! by fastcardotmp3 (post-s4 apocalypse survival, sweet and aching and tired and yet hopeful, made me cry in the best way).

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

One that's pretty unique to the steddie fandom, or perhaps general stranger things fandom, is “if canon event x had happened differently/hadn't happened at all/had happened to a different person, how would the rest of canon change?” I still need to work out a lot of details in my head, so that's all I'll say for now, but it's something I'm very interested in exploring.

What is your writing process like?

Much to the horror of fic writers everywhere, I don't do first drafts, I just write out everything in detail, scene by scene in chronological order. I edit as I go, and consider the many-numbered, often unplanned writing breaks an important part of my process - when I let the written portion sit for a while and the unwritten ideas percolate in my brain for a bit, I often end up with new plot points or solutions for problems I've been having! And when that inspiration strikes, I can write anywhere - on the train, during lunch break at work, in the vegetable aisle of the grocery store… I have gdocs on my phone and I use it liberally; I'd say I write at least 80% of any given fic on my phone.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Apart from the hot mess I just described, I'd say it's that I never use Beta readers. I'll occasionally ask friends to help with specific details if I need an expert on certain subject matter, but I've found I get very grumpy and fussy if someone pokes at my plot (even if or rather especially if they’re right lol), and I don't want to subject anyone to that.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

For oneshots or series comprised of single-chapter fics I like posting as soon as I'm done, but for multi-chapter works I've recently found that starting to post only after I've finished most (if not all) chapters beforehand improves the quality of the story! Since I tend to integrate new ideas or shift around plot points a lot while writing, I often end up in completely different places than my original concept, so if an early chapter isn't posted yet I can retroactively edit it to add foreshadowing or tone-match the end of the work, remove loose threads and suchlike. Don't look back is a good example of how this has worked out for me; comparatively It don't bite (Yes it do) - which I wrote and posted chapter by chapter - is tonally all over the place.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Naturally I love all my babies, but I consider Don't look back my magnum opus - both because it is the longest fic I've ever written (13 chapters and 90.000 words in total, that's practically a novel!) and because it's the most plot-rich, labor-intensive, and overall serious in tone. I even worked in subplots about the rest of the cast, so it almost reads like its own season. I wrote it for last year's Steddie Bigbang, which means there's also a gorgeous accompanying artwork by @the-chilly-kat.

How did you get the idea for With great power?

At the time I'd seen a few marvel AUs floating past me on the tumblr timeline, usually with Steve as Spiderman and Eddie as the human component of Venom, and having just recently seen the Venom movie depicting the rich relationship between Eddie Brock and the symbiote, it surprised me that most left the symbiote as its own character, and not substituted one of the ST main cast. The symbiotic relationship of Stobin immediately came to mind, though I also still loved the idea of Steve as Spidey - then I remembered that in the Toby McGuire movies, the two are not mutually exclusive, and it all spiraled from there. Eddie as Deadpool just made sense - immortal wild-card with a dubious moral code but a heart of gold? Obviously! Plus Spideypool is, of course, a classic ship.

When writing With great power, what was something you didn’t expect?

I actually got several curious comments about the sex toy Steve uses in Because the night - a grindable or grinder, which is a flat-ish silicone structure, usually ribbed in an interesting way, that one can grind against to get off (as the name suggests). I thought it was pretty common, but apparently it's not very well known!

What inspired RUSH! (T4T REMIX)?

Oh, it's my time to gush! Because the idea for the first work actually came about from a late night conversation I had with the beautiful, amazing, wonderful @maikaartwork, back when we were, how should I say, in the courting stage? Seeing as we met through the Steddie fandom, I decided to write Baby Said basically to seduce them - and I am happy to say it worked, as we've been dating for over eight months now and are planning to move in together next year! Both works from RUSH! - T4T REMIX (and the secret new WIP, shh) are thus somewhat inspired by our conversations and our t4t relationship, but also by the many interesting and different trans people I've met over the years, and trans solidarity and relationships in general.

What was your favorite part to write from At a medium pace?

The small-talk in between position changes - no, really! I love a mindless marathon-fuck story as much as the next person, but there's something very sweet and intimate about those little breaks in sex, the pass the lube, move your leg a bit, what's for dinner later of it all. That's where you see that emotional connection - there's no admission of crushes or big love confessions in this fic because it's right there in the details.

How do/did you feel writing RUSH! (T4T REMIX)?

Honestly, it's just really really fun and self-indulgent. The Steddie dynamic in it is so bitchy, all the bickering makes me laugh even as I'm writing it. It's also just really fun to write about the trans experience in a way that is curious and loving, and reflects all the very different and yet similar ways people experience living in a body that defies expectation. I've loved all my fellow trans people sounding off in the comments about their own transition experiences, it's wonderful to have such a fantastic community!

What was the most difficult part of writing If you were church (I'd get on my knees)?

Curiously enough, not the many religious trauma bits! Much like Eddie in the fic, I'm only church-freak adjacent - I grew up in a non-religious household but with extended family that were extremely catholic, so the odd juxtaposition of being occasionally close to but definitely not involved in what is pretty much cult behavior inspired much of this fic. The most functionally difficult part to write was actually the wedding - as an aro-spec & trans relationship anarchist, church weddings have never been relevant to me, so I had very little idea what actually goes into one! Very little of the research I conducted on the topic actually made it into the fic, but hey, the more you know.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

People keep asking me that, and I never know what to answer! If I had to pick one, though, maybe the last few paragraphs of Don't look back - where you can see the tragedy coming, but there's no way of stopping it, because it was always going to end this way. And then Eddie's last words before the end of the fic call back to the title as well as the general theme of the fic - it just all comes together for such a crescendo of an ending.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Yes, actually! Coming soon in the SteddieBang'24, me and my lovely artist @hawkinsleather have been working hard on a 20k post-s4 fic called A glimpse of your canvas, which is about closeted transfemme!Eddie, women's solidarity, and Steve's very confusing no-good trip to the gay bar. Both With great power and RUSH! (T4T REMIX) have another WIP pending which I'll eventually finish (I promise, I'm just easily distracted!!), and for those who are still mad about Don't look back’s open ending, I'm almost done with the sequel, which features a lot of bad decisions by all characters involved, the healing power of community, and a bit of accidental child acquisition.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Given the chance of this platform, I would like to notify my readers that I'm a terrible procrastinator when it comes to replying to comments, but I read and cherish every one of them - and repeat commenters, I see you, I love you, I am chewing on your arm like a dog with a bone!! I would also like to thank the steddie fandom in general for giving me the hottest partner known to man or God, and for the many friendships I've been so fortunate to build here. Talk about transformative works, am I right? <3

Thank you to our author, @dartlekey, and our anonymous nominator! See more of dartlekey's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things

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tofixtheshadows · 5 months

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I've been thinking a lot lately about how Kabru deprives himself.

Kabru as a character is intertwined with the idea that sometimes we have to sacrifice the needs of the few for the good of the many. He ultimately subverts this first by sabotaging the Canaries and then by letting Laios go, but in practice he's already been living a life of self-sacrifice.

Saving people, and learning the secrets of the dungeons to seal them, are what's important. Not his own comforts. Not his own desires. He forces them down until he doesn't know they're there, until one of them has to come spilling out during the confession in chapter 76.

Specifically, I think it's very significant, in a story about food and all that it entails, that Kabru is rarely shown eating. He's the deuteragonist of Dungeon Meshi, the cooking manga, but while meals are the anchoring points of Laios's journey, given loving focus, for Kabru, they're ... not.

I'm sure he eats during dungeon expeditions, in the routine way that adventurers must when they sit down to camp. But on the surface, you get the idea that Kabru spends most of his time doing his self-assigned dungeon-related tasks: meeting with people, studying them, putting together that evidence board, researching the dungeon, god knows what else. Feeding himself is secondary.

He's introduced during a meal, eating at a restaurant, just to set up the contrast between his party and Laios's. And it's the last normal meal we see him eating until the communal ending feast (if you consider Falin's dragon parts normal).

First, we get this:

Kabru's response here is such a non-answer, it strongly implies to me that he wasn't thinking about it until Rin brought it up. That he might not even be feeling the hunger signals that he logically knew he should.

They sit down to eat, but Kabru is never drawn reaching for food or eating it like the rest of his party. He only drinks.

It's possible this means nothing, that we can just assume he's putting food in his mouth off-panel, but again, this entire manga is about food. Cooking it, eating it, appreciating it, taking pleasure in it, grounding yourself in the necessary routine of it and affirming your right to live by consuming it. It's given such a huge focus.

We don't see him eat again until the harpy egg.

What a significant question for the protagonist to ask his foil in this story about eating! Aren't you hungry? Aren't you, Kabru?

He was revived only minutes ago after a violent encounter. And then he chokes down food that causes him further harm by triggering him, all because he's so determined to stay in Laios's good graces.

In his flashback, we see Milsiril trying to spoon-feed young Kabru cake that we know he doesn't like. He doesn't want to eat: he wants to be training.

Then with Mithrun, we see him eating the least-monstery monster food he can get his hands on, for the sake of survival- walking mushroom, barometz, an egg. The barometz is his first chance to make something like an a real meal, and he actually seems excited about it because he wants to replicate a lamb dish his mother used to make him!

...but he doesn't get to enjoy it like he wanted to.

Then, when all the Canaries are eating field rations ... Kabru still isn't shown eating. He's only shown giving food to Mithrun.

And of course the next time he eats is the bavarois, which for his sake is at least plant based ... but he still has to use a coping mechanism to get through it.

I don't think Kabru does this all on purpose. I think Kui does this all on purpose. Kabru's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder should be understood as informing his character just as much as Laios's autism informs his. It's another way that Kabru and Laios act as foils: where Laios takes pleasure in meals and approaches food with the excitement of discovery, Kabru's experiences with eating are tainted by his trauma. Laios indulges; Kabru denies himself. Laios is shown enjoying food, Kabru is shown struggling with it.

And I can very easily imagine a reason why Kabru might have a subconscious aversion towards eating.

Meals are the privilege of the living.

#Dungeon Meshi #Delicious in Dungeon #Kabru #Kabru of Utaya #Laios Touden #Dungeon Meshi meta #you can have him in the tags too. as a treat.#Dungeon Meshi spoilers #this was directly inspired by livelaughlaios's post about Kabru self harming but I decided it got too long to make it a direct reply #this is a theory I've been working on for weeks because I kept noticing this while skimming for screencaps #I'm hesitant to trigger tag this because of the way certain subcultures on tumblr operate #but if anyone needs me to add a content warning please let me know #also I included image descriptions! I did my best #I think they even help illustrate my points but my god were they sad to write. Kabru is so fucking sad you guys #musings with Dea

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enlichened · 7 months

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I literally saw someone say laios is too autistic for romance... you guys HAVE to start being respectful to autistic people. like I know he's just a character but its emblematic of real problems. Even if it's just a joke, it is NOT FUNNY to perpetuate ableism in the form of jokes. I see like a thousand posts a day about how he has autistic swag and in the SAME POST joke about how his friends actually hate him, nobody could REALLYYY like him they're all just pretending <3, he's too autistic for sex or romance or love.

He has canonical problems in the text with people pretending to be his friend, or people secretly hating him. We've gone over and over again about how divorcing autistic people and characters from sex and romance on the whole is infantilizing. (individual ace/aro headcanons are fine, but maybe also examine where they're coming from when its characters widely seen as autistic). I feel like a lot of fans don't even realize what they're doing. oftentimes what you think is funny fan content is actually you making fun of him and excluding him from things based on his autistic traits.

And this isn't even MENTIONING the racism in making kabru be aggressive to laios for no reason all the time when kabru has genuine reason and understanding even when he thinks he might need to kill laios. OR how weird it is that people will boil down falin's autistic traits for farcille and say like "yeah she's similar to laios, but she's less of a 'freak' (AKA has developed people pleasing social skills) so marcille likes her still :)"

#dungeon meshi #ableism #like i feel CRAZY having to defend the MAIN CHARACTER but some of you people CANNOT treat people with respect its actually wild #dunmeshi blogging #personal /#< thats a myposts tag this can be liked or reblogged if you so choose #laios touden #like yes people get irritated w laios in the manga and would prefer he not do certain things GSNFLDSHF #but some of you take it wayyyy too far #theyre friends. literally. they care about him and its not realllyyyy funny or cool to pretend that they dont #strike backlog

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elsecrytt · 1 month

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so i had a thought.

what if 236 is actually jujutsu tech propaganda?

mei mei is broadcasting this entire thing, right? what better way to protect gojo from bounty hunters etc., than convince the entire world that he's already dead?

the final battle happened offscreen, with significantly less fanfare. gojo rescued megumi, defeated sukuna. the day was saved.

at a cost.

gojo gave up everything - at least, everything he valued. the six eyes, his abilities as a sorcerer. he assumed that would make him a normal man, and he was right -

what he didn't realize was that it would also make him blind.

so now... you live in a nice apartment complex. a guy moves in next to you.

you can't help but notice he happens to be blind - at least, he's wearing a blindfold, uses a cane, but he's often swearing and stumbling through his porch, over his entryway. he is very, very blind.

you, wondering what the fuck up is with your obviously blind neighbor who seems to have no sense of self-preservation.

he walks into objects all the time, especially hitting his head on things, since he's so tall. forgets his cane when going out. the dude just left his door open the other day, like, WIDE OPEN, who DOES that?

helping gojo learn, not only how to be human, but how to be disabled. how to not be disgusted with being disabled.

gojo learning that being blind isn't the end of his life, nor the end of his happiness - life is still worth living, even without one of his senses.

helping gojo mourn his lost sense while still finding things to enjoy. gojo who learns to cook by taste, by feeling heat or texture, with your help. gojo learning to organize things so he always knows where they are from memory.

bringing gojo audiobook versions of your favorite stories even if he teases you for your taste. he listens to them when he has nothing to do, which is most of the time, now.

he goes out on walks all the time because he doesn't have a job, you learn. while it's nice to not have to work, you can tell he comes from money, his life comes with a gaping hole inside it, one that isn't entirely explained by the blindness.

gojo who's overstimulated all the time because he no longer has infinity as a barrier, but somehow also as touch-starved as ever, alone in a foreign country away from all his students and colleagues.

gojo, who has only ever done Big Things with his life, who has only ever been an Important Person doing world changing things, now, just an ordinary guy.

he barely cares what happens to himself now. it's not that he wants to die, or anything. it's just that he doesn't have a reason to live.

and that wouldn't change overnight. not with cooking lessons or audiobooks or friendly greetings whenever you see him by the door. not with smiles or waves (he can't see them) or a braille rubik's cube you find online (how did he solve it in under a minute??) or karaoke (he has an AMAZING singing voice, and he knows so many songs better than you do?).

it wouldn't change overnight, because nothing worthwhile forms in a day, or two, or even a week or a month.

but gojo's life doesn't have to be amazing a day after he's gone blind. or a week. or a month. it's okay if it's difficult, he learns, it's okay if he hates it, hates himself, hates every choice that brought him here, even if he would never take it back.

it's okay. it gets better. with you there? it's getting better.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #fluff #elsey rambles #god i just LOVE the post-sukuna-fight gojo fics man #i love satoru being brought down to normal. learning to struggle like regular people do #and realizing! it is actually not so bad! it's okay actually! life is fine when you can't hollow purple or forcefield protect yourself!#gojo has spent so much of his life looking at the Big Picture. he can enjoy some little things. as a treat #a testament for my love for that man that i'd eat up a fic of him with 0 sorcery or fun fantasy elements in it #his personality is good enough for me. the awfulness of it is the charm!#there should have been sooo much more angst to his character #oh wait those tags too #angst #hurt/comfort #god hurt/comfort is my CRACK

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wickmitz · 13 days

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I decided to start talking about Wick and Rocky's relationship because I like their dynamics too, I like seeing Wick scared of Rocky and Rocky being aggressive with him, which is unusual because Rocky is rarely aggressive with anyone, but of course Wick is an exception to rule

Also my mini opinion about their possible relationship, I think that if Rocky didn't have to fight for his place, then he and Wick could become friends, or at least tolerate each other a little, I also see some superficial similarities, their gentlemanly and romantic natures, and their common love for explosions (remembering the quarrymen chapter), but this is my assumption, I think that I don't understand the characters' personalities well, so I can be wrong in this assumption, something like that. So, what do you think about their relationship?

for starters, i cannot thank you enough for this ask! as i’ve said previously, i have many thoughts on these two, so it’s nice to finally be able to share some of them. although given the extent to which i think about them, i apologize in advance if this is sloppy and sort of everywhere … while i’ll try to structure things the best i can, i cannot promise i’ll succeed! but hopefully this is an enjoyable reply nonetheless.

one of my favorite things about rocky and wick’s relationship is absolutely how aggressive rocky is towards the aristocrat ; he is prone to glares and cruel jokes and borderline hissing whenever the man is within his line of sight, or can be brought to a wailing-fit over the mere mention of his name from miss m’s mouth. there is a childishness to it, but a very prominent threat as well in spite of rocky’s usual incompetence. so he goes out of his way to posture around wick, readily lying and adorning himself with the gangster drapes he so badly wants to wear, in the hopes that it intimidates … will even badmouth wick’s family and make fun of his name and rock related obsession to mitzi, and so on so forth! yet all of this is very reminiscent of schoolyard bullying rather than anything too severe, though we as the audience understand rather quickly that rocky would bash wick’s head in with a tire iron if he could. ( translation : if it wouldn’t earn the tears or hate of a certain beloved mitzi may ) and it’s all very intense despite the absence of actual violence! and i understand why many fans see this as unusual for rocky and believe that it’s only wick who makes him act so aggressively, but i’d argue it isn’t really wick at all that prompts such scary reactions from him … and that rocky is a deeply angry character who’s a.) been boiling quietly for a long, long time and b.) has turned wick into a punching bag of sorts for this inner world of resentment and hurt. basically, when he’s judging the well-to-do or poking fun, his eyes don’t look at wick and actually acknowledge him as sedgewick sable ; instead this is a being, something vague and metaphorical, who threatens to upseat rocky’s permanence in the lackadaisy and steal away his savior, and he’s had a hand in the violinist’s misfortune for a long time.

obviously, rocky doesn’t think wick robbed him of his family twice over and made him homeless, but he is channeling the fear and anguish of those events into his loathing for wick, if that makes sense? it’s easier that way -- to finally have an outlet for everything bleeding inside of you, to be able to bite and claw at something without feeling conflicted or having to take personal accountability for your own mistakes … which is something that i think rocky does struggle with to a degree. he is sort of a finger pointer! his pain has to be worth something, it has to be for someone else ; spending years homeless and losing his last bit of family was for freckle, and the scrambling of his literal brain was for mitzi, and that means he can’t ever be angry with them! well, except that he is, somewhat, but he buries it deep down instead of feeling it. with freckle there is a sense of strain between them -- an air of ‘you owe me’ from rocky to freckle as he uses freckle to appease miss m, and he constantly pokes fun at his cousin too. it’s lighter than his jabs at wick, but there’s a constant pestering, a reminder of how good freckle has it : how he’s got the mom and the house and the job and the girl most notably. i don’t think rocky is intending to come across as mean, and to his credit he hardly does! but it’s rather clear to me that some part of him, some hidden and deeply hurt part, is rather indignant about taking the fall for freckle all those years ago. which he can’t understand, because how could he? he made that choice, he decided to take accountability for something he didn’t do because he loves freckle and knows it’d be so easy to believe this family tragedy was roark’s fault ; the devilish child he was, all troublesome and too broken to properly fit anywhere. so there is a disconnect born here, where rocky can’t comprehend that he’d be angry at freckle, so instead these not so great feelings are placed elsewhere and silently boil over time. and with mitzi … i don’t think he’s angry at her per se, but there is a frustrated and desperate chorus of : why him and why not me, when i’m the one out here dying for you? which is certainly unpleasant. of course, rather than allowing those feelings to be more aimed at miss m, whom he feels unloved by, he ( again! ) represses these emotions and allows them to fester into his greatest fears and fantastical complexes. i think there is a lot of other miscellaneous anger he could have towards others too … perhaps some part of him is sore upon seeing ivy’s normal lifestyle, watching her go to university and knowing that’s been taken from him. or an ache felt when hearing stories from zib and the band and how they used to travel successfully, living as nomads, and rocky is all too reminded of his similar lifestyle and how he couldn’t make it work as effortlessly. people with immense trauma are more prone to irrational anger and jealousy, to viewing everything around them as unfair and believing it’s even more unjust that so many people get to live comfortably while they’ve suffered. a situation that gets more messy when you’re someone like rocky, a man who’s willingly made choices that have harmed himself and wants to continue on with his smiling, bumbling fool of an act. he does not want to be angry, does not want to see it within himself, i think, which leads to an accidental increase of it.

all of this is to reiterate that wick is a scapegoat for rocky and nothing more. it’s why he’s rather hypocritical whenever it concerns the man. for example, it was stated by tracy that he looks down upon wick for his excessive presence at the bar, yet he appears to enjoy hanging out with zib -- who drinks just as often! he makes fun of how all wick ever talks about is rocks, when he himself is prone to poetry rambles that people find irritating or boring, and etc etc. this is also just a human nature thing, to critique someone you heavily dislike and even going as far as to belittle things you love or do in your own day to day because you just hate them that bad! but given rocky’s willingness to befriend anyone, it more so reeks of a dehumanization element. wick is every obstacle in his way, every divine force that threatens to send him packing again, so he is equal parts unnerved by wick’s presence and angry about it. it is mostly a fear response we are seeing, an emotion that’s morphed into long held resentment and anger. so his actions are extremely defensive, with him trying to push wick far away and keep him and mitzi separate, like some sort of animal attempting to ward off a threat that’s come too close to their home. despite the loaded animosity there, this hate has hardly reached its peak … but it shall only grow more intense as things continue onward i’m afraid, since as it stands ( in the comic at least ) rocky is at an all time low … and is ten times more desperate. i’d honestly say wick has become so warped in his mind’s eye that he can only strive towards ‘winning’ over the other man, because that’s all he can see anymore. i think mitzi implying that wick willingly helped her out, the intense head injury, and rocky’s fragile emotional state is exactly what pushes him towards premeditated murder in look-see. i don’t know how people perceive that arc, but to me it’s very clear that rocky actively sought to see the deaths of wes and fish that night. going as far as to lament that he’d be, “very disappointed if ( he ) dreamed them,” and purposefully luring the marigold duo away to have freckle pick them off. while you could argue that this was a smart move, in a gangster sort of sense, there’s still no denying that rocky is oddly chipper about the whole thing and is now seeking death out ; whereas before his methods of vengeance were just, well, ruining people’s livelihood but ultimately leaving them alive. this isn’t to discredit the fact that rocky is going through something! he is in a very muddled and dark place, mentally and physically, but even tracy has said that the head injury hasn’t changed rocky’s personality -- it’s only brought things to the surface.

source : q&a with tracy .

which, yeah! makes sense! head trauma can cause a person to become a wreck emotionally ( think mood swings, irritability, etc ) but it doesn’t completely morph someone either. personality changes may occur, but it’s not like you’re being rewritten entirely, you know? and given tracy’s old statement, it’s clear that ‘personality changes’ aren’t a side effect he’s suffering from. something that adds to my beginning statement, which is that rocky is a deeply angry and troubled person, more so than fans give him any credit for.

however, to touch upon your mini opinion about these two, i actually wholeheartedly agree that rocky and wick could become friends if circumstances were different. they do in fact have many superficial similarities, but one of the more prominent things they deeply share is never really belonging in the groups they frequent. this is more overt with rocky’s character, yet wick faces it too in subtle ways. the well-to-do crowd, seen through the investors, find the gentleman to be lacking in about every place imaginable ; to them he is an obsessive freak who cares too deeply for meager rocks, something they constantly mock him for, while he’s also being noticeably set apart from the rest of them … he seems younger than the investors, more excitable, passionate, and a little less experienced, and doesn’t seem to care for money or reputation as much as them either. there is a constant rubbing between him and them, where what he enjoys is seen as wrong, such as his love for the lackadaisy and his choice in paramor, a grieving widow with extremely dangerous ties. we also know that wick doesn’t have many friends at all, with the only two he has being lacy and church ( church is listed as such on his character profile, in a sort of tongue-in-cheek way ), both of whom work for or with him. they are obliged to hang around, and while they care in varying ways, they are prone to judging him just as much. honestly, it’s not shocking that wick seeks refuge at his chosen speakeasy! but even there he is rather distant from everyone else. he doesn’t speak to zib ever in the comics, nor seems all too close with viktor, ivy, or horatio … it is merely mitzi he is close to, even if he knows of the other people who work there. and, once again, wick very obviously doesn’t fit in. he is not gangster material, could never be an atlas may replacement, much less someone who could get his paws dirty in such an active way. so he has his feet in two different worlds and doesn’t know how to fit into either of them, or which one he actually wants to fit into more. i think in many ways rocky could relate -- these are two very lonely people who wish to belong somewhere and be accepted by some group or another but go about it in all the wrong ways. wick, who is too hesitant to fully commit to what he wants and is worse off for it, and then rocky, who obsessively throws himself against what he wants until he breaks every bone in his body. they also have explosives to bond over, lol, and other miscellaneous things like their taste in women i suppose … but this potential bond adds to the tragedy of lackadaisy, where we see two people who on every level should get along but we’re burdened with the knowledge that it’s an impossibility anyway, because there’s no removing the circumstance of which they’re in.

though i like to believe that despite wick’s fear of rocky, he maintains a kindness towards him regardless. i think his worries about rocky are rather surface level … he doesn’t know the boy at all, really, and thus can’t make heads or tails of him, hence him believing the lie in balderdash. so when i’m feeling particularly self indulgent, i like imagining a world where they’re forced together and sort of ‘stuck’ together ; to which rocky finally breaks and exposes his wounds to wick, in every sense of the word, and wick finally gets him. the aggression, the possessiveness of mitzi … it is all fear and desperation and a profound sadness, things he’d sympathize with. if rocky was able to explain that he loathes wick because if he saves the lackadaisy then mitzi won’t need him anymore and that it’s not fair that wick gets to so easily fix things when rocky would give his soul for his home, for her, and how wick could render every sacrifice he’s already made for naught by smoothing things over with some greenbacks and he can’t lose this, he just can’t --! … which, well, wick is too kind of a man to be able to do anything except feel awful, even though it’s not his fault at all. here we have two people who could coexist! and they should, since rocky logically can’t do every speakeasy job ( band member, rumrunner, mitzi’s shadow, also the guy who gets the money for the hooch ) by himself, just like how wick can’t save the lackadaisy with only his cash and limited booze stash. it’d be a joint cooperation, a collaboration between them, both equally important in the grand scheme of crime’s every turning wheel … but rocky’s rage and fear won’t let him see that, and likely never will. still, in scenarios where everything ends up alright for the lackadaisy and the people involved in it ( which is not how canon will go, by the way ), i fancy wick and rocky getting better within their relationship. rocky will always be prickly and quick to upset around the other man sadly, but perhaps he could see wick in a softer kind of light. or at least understand vaguely enough that he isn’t out to get rocky, so to speak. and then maybe wick learns that pancakes soothe rocky’s ire and poorly makes them anytime he wishes to talk to the man, and other fun things like that! but you should have more confidence in your character analysis skills, because you were spot on ( at least in my eyes ) about them potentially getting along if things were different. it’s certainly a fun aspect to play around with, and is important to note when discussing their relationship so you can fully understand just how warped rocky’s perspective on things are. and how unstable and traumatized he is too, of course </3 sidenote, but i also hope that throughout everything i’ve said here, or anything i’ve said before on my blog, that my love for rocky and my own sympathy for him comes across well enough. while he’s deeply flawed and i have no qualms discussing said flaws in depth, i also don’t think of him as some insane freak who’s evil at his core or anything like that. honestly, i adore analyzing him so much as a character because of how far down his issues go! he’s very well written, i’ll say, as is wick and many of the other characters, but i digress.

once more, thank you for the ask! i’ll end this here because i fear if i don’t i’ll start going in circles, since their relationship is so vast and very important for rocky in a character sense. hopefully i shed some more light on it though! i love these two to bits and pieces and i wouldn’t be half as invested in lackadaisy if their dynamic wasn’t so monumental -- at least to me.

#my asks.#lackadaisy #rocky rickaby #sedgewick sable #tracy j butler #i also think rocky’s sudden taste for marigold blood is him making marigold his other scapegoat #he isn’t dealing with anything in a healthy manner and is so traumatized it’s starting to spill out of him … which is. uh. not good!!#but it sure is what’s currently happening regardless #cannot stress enough that rock is a very ill and traumatized individual who hasn’t had a single break in his life #he is constantly in stressful situations that are dangerous … and like.#when you’re constantly put in those situations you become numb. and angry. and it becomes hard to heal #or to truly connect to others … etc #i could talk in depth about rocky’s traumas and why they’ve caused this anger issue and this inner disharmony inside #because frankly there’s a lot there! and i hate to say it but people who are hurt normally show their hurt in ugly ways #especially if mentally ill … which rocky is imo #it’s just the reality of things! this isn’t me demonizing mental illness or the effects of trauma. i’m just being realistic here #someone as deeply troubled as rocky ( someone with NO outlet and whom hides his feelings from others and himself )#is bound to be. well. troubled!! his smiling facade is merely another mask he wears to cope and to be good for the people he loves #it is not … really rocky rickaby … rocky rickaby is that and the wrath and the self destruction and more #AHEM but i digress. how rocky treats wick and all that has really done wonders for understanding his character #and i truly love the wick / rocky / mitzi trio so bad. their relationships with each other is what drew me into this world #like. i am shaking them so much. the overlap!! the complexities inherit in their bonds and what that says about the individual characters!#it’s amazing truly lol like … i have had such fun thinking about them twenty four seven for the past three-ish months #anyway. anyway! i love analyzing these bitches. they can fit so much into them #and i’m rooting for wickmitzi endgame and for wick to desperately try to bond with rocky … while his bloodshot eye is twitching as we speak #lots of fun!!! lots of pain and agony too … rocky is nothing but a painful character alas. that is his nature. but that is also his appeal #and ooops i’ll shut up in the tags now i just. have a lot to say. and a lotta love to give to these two!! but uh. yeah <3 loved writing thi

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