#yeah found out when I got older

[introspectivememories]

four months into getting to know each other, shouto finds him by touya-nii's shrine. his little brother gently sits down beside him and offers a small prayer.

"yumi-nee-san," natsuo wonders if his little brother will ever drop the second honorific, "said you were the closest to him," shouto says quietly.

after all these years and the use of past tense still makes his heart break. 'you are the closest to him' he wants to correct but that wouldn't make sense anymore. touya-nii hasn't been talked about in the present tense since before middle school. does shouto even remember a time before nii-san's dea-, disappearance?

"yeah, i was," he says, eyes never leaving the photo. it's the one nii-san took for sixth-grade picture day. kaa-san had got him all dressed up and he had hated it. somedays he thinks if he looks close enough, he'll see the displeased pout on nii-san face. "why?"

his little brother says nothing for a long time, back ramrod straight. natsuo has no idea what's going on in that head of his. shouto has so few tells that he's practically a blank slate. natsuo hates his father.

then slowly and so quietly, he has to strain his ears to catch it, shouto stammers out, "do-, do you think he would have liked me?"

natsuo's immediate reaction is to say 'yes'. yes, of course, touya-nii would've loved you. yes, of course, touya-nii would've crossed the heavens for you. yes, of course, he would've loved you shouto; you're his precious younger brother.

but he remembers the way nii-san used to spit out shouto's name when he was a kid. the way his brother's mouth wrapped around it, the face he made, like he had just eaten something disgusting. he remembers the way touya-nii had become almost crazed by the end, hellbent on proving himself the rightful heir to their shitty father's legacy. he remembers the way touya-nii had said, "i just need to prove that i'm better than him,"; the 'him' said with such bitterness and contempt.

he knows instantly that touya-nii would not have liked shouto. that this house and his father would have twisted any ounce of love, nii-san would've held towards shouto, into jealousy and hatred.

(this house may have ruined all of them but it only ever broke two of them.)

natsuo can't say any of that to shouto. his kind little brother who forgave him for not being there. his amazing little brother who falls in love with every cat he sees. his wonderful little brother who has a wickedly dry sense of humor. his soft baby brother who loves him and yumi-nee with a passion. his tender-hearted baby brother who still worries if his long-gone older brother would've liked him.

no, natsuo can't tell shouto that nii-san wouldn't have like him. shouto will internalize it like he does with everything else that hurts him. and there is already so much that hurts shouto, he will not add to that list. his baby brother smiles these days, nothing big like his green-haired friend, but quiet, lovely, ones all the same. shouto talks more these days. they have dinner together when natsuo is home. his baby brother laughs now. it's a miracle like nothing else in this world.

shouto is the best thing to come out of their house and natsuo will die before he ever hurts his little brother. so instead, he curls an arm around shouto's shoulders and pulls him into a loose side-hug.

"of course!" he lies cheerfully, ignoring the ache in his chest, "touya-nii would've loved you. you're his — and our —precious little brother after all. there is no universe in which he wouldn't have loved you."

the tips of his baby brother's ears go red and his pleased little answering smile makes the ache of lie go away. natsuo will tell a thousand more lies if it means shouto never stops smiling like that.

[sweatermuppet]

oh i never posted abt it here. but post office guy ended up moving away. i found out a while back & then i went in somewhat recently & he was at the counter & he was weighing my orders & said "today's my last day, actually!" & i said "oh really? i was worried id missed you already..." we joked around, me & him & his other coworker who sees me regularly. he said his car was packed up to go & he went "it's been a pleasure, working with u" & i told him it's crazy that he'd been with me since the very start of me opening my shop & we wished each other well & he gave me my receipt & said "have a good day, man" & was so smiley like always & i said you too + "have a safe drive"

[13eyond13]

Can I ask your fav death note fics (if you don't mind)? Can be gen or L/Light....

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "13eyond13"?

Yes, I have put my recs into a tag here that you are more than welcome to browse. It might have some other kinds of recs shoved into it (like DN fanfic recs from other people or media recs) - but it's 13eyond13.tumblr.com/tagged/reccs

My URL here is simply a version of the name "beyond birthday" ... I first made this blog when I was in the midst of writing a B-centric fic and got stuck on it. I thought that I'd make a tumblr so I could do more than just creep on the DN tumblrs here (which is what I used to do) and actually reblog some writing inspo stuff and post my thoughts about the series and such. "13eyond13" was just the first thing that worked for me when I was trying to pick a name, and at the time I didn't think I'd actually be talking to people here much. So I didn't put a whole lot of thought into how well it'd work as like... a name that people refer to you as or anything (I think it sucks for that!) But I've just had it for so long now that it stuck and I'm attached, I suppose

[worstloki]

thor: i was confused before i realized that i'm bisexual but now everything makes so much sense

thor: like now i understand why i start sweating whenever loki takes off his shirt

thor: i was starting to think i might be allergic to jotun

[bangcakes]

.

[milkstoner]

you guyssssss… i have been surviving. here is my candlelit desk

[appreciatingtokrev]

warrior cats hyperfixation era me was so close to figuring out she’s trans and aroace. so close.

warrior cats hyperfixation era me: ‘‘yeah i usually rp as male cats :) idk i just prefer writing them and it’s easier for me to think as them than as female cats? idk i just prefer them. but irl i’m a girl xD’’

GIRL YOU ARE TRANS.

THAT’S WHY YOU PREFER PLAYING AS TOMS. BC IT REPRESENTS YOUR GENDER MORE ACCURATELY

warrior cats hyperfixation era me: ‘‘my fav clan rank? definitely healer! they don’t have to fight, they just collect herbs and treat the wounded cats. sometimes they also hunt. also they aren’t allowed a mate or kits which is a stupid rule but most of them don’t want that anyway. and yes i love rping healers who just have close friends no mate no kits no forbidden romance no nothing! but i’m omniromantic :)’’

GIRL NO. YOU ARE LITERALLY AROACE

warrior cats hyperfixation era me was so so fucking close. she was so fucking close and she still didn’t realise shit

[bloominstorm]

These Mikey chapters lowkey getting to me..

[katierosefun]

wait i was looking up cases of bullying in schools when the word Eton came up and i just discovered how ugly it is behind all the pretence they put up, bullying, corruption and dishonesty run rampant in there. I can't help but imagine Juwon in there, how horrible it must have been for him... hell he probably was one of the few asian kid there at that surrounded by conceited rich british guys that think they're better than anyone and everything must be hand over to them, my heart breaks thinking about what he might have faced. I'm realizing that many of his antics actually make so much sense, all his resoluteness about delivering justice and dismantling corruption... sad hours open i guess :(

oh dear wait x2 actually! i remembered the part after the egg scene in which he's washing up and about to remove his shirt when chief nam enters and he so quickly puts it back on... I'm definitely reading too much into it but, bUT that makes me sad? it kinda gives me the idea that he was bullied even physically other than shamed? but had to keep everything to himself cause who could he even talk to? I'm sorry idk if this makes much sense but i kinda wanted to share to you cause you always give precious and interesting insights, things i missed or didn't consider (2/2)

oh . . . .. yeah, anon, while i'm not british, i def. hardcore relate to the feeling of going to a school and quickly realizing that you're one of the only (if not the only) asian person, surrounded by spoiled white kids who parrot the awful things their parents say. (only i think joo won had it off worse. at least i knew english, and at least i had siblings and parents to go back to, but joo won . . . joo won's. like. eight. seven, maybe. his dad never visited him. he didn't even have his babysitter around. hyuk's nonexistent to him at this point in his life. there's no one.)

and oh god yeah, actually i think a lot about how joo won must have probably faced all kinds of bullying when in the locker rooms. (i mean. also. part of the queer experience definitely makes locker rooms even doubly uncomfortable for a variety of reasons. also. like. there's this annoying habit that white people especially like to project on asian boys and asian men in general, usually (derogatorily, of course) deeming them more feminine and therefore gay (ie. nothing wrong with being gay, ofc, but we all know that when it's said like that, it's never out of acceptance, is it). (but anyways. that might also explain joo won's . . . well. listen. he can act all uncaring and etc. but it's pretty clear from the way he looks at dong sik screams "repressed").

your point about joo won being so obsessive with the idea of punishment and justice stemming from being a victim of bullying absolutely hits the nail on the head too. i think that when one's severely bullied (and the bullies never seem to get in trouble--they always either seem to have the teachers already on their side, or if they're punished, the punishment is always ridiculously minimal), that can really feed a kid's ideas of what justice should look like. (and also just make them hellishly angrier. like, rightfully so though. you see kids doing cruel shit + adults enabling or encouraging them, and then your brain kicks into Angry and Bitter Overdrive through the rest of your life and etc.)

[gingericywolf]

I just dreamed this whole benji thing. Two times. In the same night. Like I woke up was like "the fuck was that" went back to sleep and dreamed the exact same thing with just slight variations . It was a reincarnation sort of thing where they slowly start getting memories of their past life, in which they had different but similar names and it was them in looks and all so I'm just gonna call them Ben and Kenji. Anyway :

"Ben" was a royal kid and "Kenji" was the servants' kid and so the one appointed to keep Ben company. But like kenji didn't like ben that much at the start but then ben get's him out of a trapdoor/tunnel that kenji had gotten closed in as punishment for something and also shows him how to open it from inside and from there there where a lot of shaeningans of the two like Ben getting extra cookies from the kitchens and sharing them with kenji, getting in and out of troubles together, running in the secret tunnels and passages figuring out every secret of the palace. They grow up together until the King gets sick and there is a bit of a crisis in the kingdom and Ben, scared, tries to hide in the tunnels but kenji finds him in a tunnel[1] that is weirdly light up and sustained by the roots of a tree(it an important detail) and from what ben says, and I quote "there are stories that say the tree that's up here has some power of protection, it grants it to who's just of mind and pure of love" and kenji offhandedly replies with "I hope it helps us too" followed by ben's "I'm sure it will". They go back out and find out the King died and so Ben has to be King now, still young( but slightly older than during camp cretaceous). There is a big ceremony for his coronation and kenji thinks that it's all over and that he will just be one of many servants now, but then Ben goes to him after all the rituals and stuff (with more food he snatched) and and makes Kenji his adviser and together they rebuild the kingdom and things go well for a long while. Also they give each other nicknames here, that are 'Ben' and 'Kenji', impling that their names where similar enought to have their future names as nicks. There a lot more scenes of them growing as king and advisor, some very cheesy and the tension that I could feel even from the dream was strong, li and the discourses like:

Kenji:"ohi we are getting letters from other kingdoms from kings wanting you to marry their daughters, like this princess from I think england and this one from India or this other one.."

Ben:" you say that as if they aren't all actually England. I don't want to get entangled with those, you know how many places fell because of them" (so true ben so true king)

Kenji: * throws all letters into the fire* absolutely right your majesty~ *proceeds to laught because he can't say it with a serious face*

Anyway as I was saying things go well until they are like late 20s early 30s(?) then shit starts going south and it ends up in a riot/war, not really sure how or why, someone wanting to get their hands on the crown, I'm not sure but this segment of dream starts with Kenji frantically writing down a letter(which later modern Ben finds but we will get to that if this post isn't too long because there are at least 2 different versions of how he find it), he has the crown with him and puts it all in a bag before hiding it all inside the wall of a secret room. He then runs out of the library and there's the sound of fights, fire, smoke everywhere and a storm outside is raging. He runs trying to help anyone he can while searching for Ben but he ends up in a fight with an enemy that brings him on an outside terrace(?) and gets thrown on the ground and about to be stabbed by the enemy, but that's when ben comes in, getting the hit and starting the fight again and, having got the enemy by surprise, he manages to defeat him. There is like a second of silence as they help each other out but then you hear big explosion,a loud rumble of stone falling and crushing, and the only thing that is seen was kenji being shoved out the way and the look of terror on his face as he reaches an hand forward just to grab nothing, crawling on his knees, seeing part of the terrace collapsed and ben's not there, (cue cruel parallel shot of ben falling in roaring storming ocean / falling from the monorail). He looks down and there is no sign of him. Just the black waves. As the battle keeps on going, and thunders keep shouting around him, there is just no sound as he looks down the edge, there is nothing but his lost, pained expression, for a moment it feels like his heart stopped too. He slowly gets back up, running through the halls, ignores everything until he gets to the entrance of that first passage, the one ben got him out of when they where kids, he just shouts a "Close behind me!" as he jumps in and keeps running, taking turns he knows like the back of his hand now, until he is out in the open, on the beach, on the rocks, looks at the waves crashing. Until he sees him, there between roots, towered by a tree, he finds Ben lying on the ground, he reaches to him and holds him relieved that he is at least awake albeit quite badly injured. There is a bit of talk until they start to hear sound of the enemies getting closer and Ben says something about protecting kenji. That he has to run away. At which kenji is like no I will protect you this time. I do not remember exactly the line kenji says and it's a shame because it was one of the most beautiful things I heard someone say in a dream, But he had one hand on Ben's cheek, the other on Ben's side, soaked in blood from the sword slash injury, they are close and looking in each other eyes and the message was along the lines of:

"No matter when, where, no matter how much time passes or who we are, if we are of different status or the same one, if we look different or have different names, I'll recognize you when I'll find you and I promise I will be the one to hold and to protect you"

There's Ben faint laugh as he puts both his hands on kenji's face, vision blurrying from tears and... uh incoming death and repeats the same words but ending it with:

"I'll love you still, as much as I do now, always and forever I'll love you"

The scene goes black as kenji is ripped away from ben's grasp, sound of fighting as kenji screams something I suspect was also an "I love you".

Then it's the sunrise the only sounds are wind and waves, and the creaking of wood like a sorrow cry and from behind a tree root we just see their hands, so close, not clear if barely thouching or if just enough not to.

It's not finished here, there is still a lot. Like this all was just the end scene where all the flashbacks got put together, finally all linear and making sense as they are in the spot where their past selves died. Also like all the rest of the crew is there too.

[1] as I said I had the dream two times with slight difference. The tree is one of the differences and is actually the second dream. First dream had a dragon for some reason, in a cave reached by the tunnels, and in that it was the dragon's fire to surround them after they said the same lines to each other, and kenji put himself in front of ben to protect him from an arrow, that 'saved' their promise and gave them the possibility to find each other again in future. As much as I like dragons and as great as it would be considering Ben's pyromaniac tendencies in the show it feels a bit too streched and the tree one is a bit more romantic? so I went eith the tree in the recount here.

Another difference is in Ben exploring the ruins alone, just slightly ahead of the group or if they are all togheter. It is always implied that Ben was the first to start recollecting the past way before, while kenji gets the most of it once they start finding and going around the ruins. I like both ideas, but there is a beautiful scene in the one where they are exploring together that is when they Do find the crown and past kenji's letter where kenji tries to grab it in panic, but chills a bit when no one can read it, until ben gets it, makes a face and then smile and as kenji tries to rip it from his hands he jumps on top of pile of debris trying to keep the paper away from kenji and also reading it aloud. Kenji doesn't even know why he is doing what he is doing yet so it makes it funnier. For if Ben is solo I like it because he is also being chased by monolophosauroses once he gets to the tree. In both cases once they reach the spot of their death the Whole group is subject to the Big memory recap, so they ALL see what I recounted before and when that ends you see Sammy crying, Yaz that's holding her confused but barely containing tears herself, Darius looking like someone who is wondering what the hell was in his breakfast, Brooklyn just bewildered and with the same expression of when they first found Ben still alive back on Nublar and Ben and Kenji finding themselves holding each other as in their last moments until ben starts sobbing and just grips onto kenji's shirt 'cause finally all those weird dreams and images make sense, and kenji hold him tighter, heart racing.

[ajournalingtrex]

AND SEVENTEEN DAYS UNTIL PRESEASON OH MY GOD LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL !!!!!!! LIFE MIGHT ACTUALLY REALLY SUCK AND I MIGHT WANT TO D1E A BIT ALL THE TIME BUT PRESEASON IS BEAUTIFUL !!!!!!! I!!!! LOVE!!!!! PRESEASON!!!!!

preseason is a gift. proof that there may be a god and that life may be okay. those invited (our student leaders, our graying athletes, the freshmen who have no idea what they’re getting into—trust me i was one of those kids—on campus faculty, and the football team. ), god what an incredible mix it is. an amalgamation of wonderful delightful people every time. it’s such a quiet campus but you know you’re not alone and 70-80 people are in just the same boat as you and it’s comforting.

((most of them are just starting their summer reading just like me, too.))

we throw ourselves at each other and at our rooms and at our teachers that first day, just how it normally is but easier on the social anxiety. we get the afternoon to set up and then we have meetings to go over the rules so that way they wouldn’t have to give it to us again when the rest got here. it felt like we were the guinea pigs, the men at the birth of time. the ones who knew how everything worked before the rest of the world and were—more often than not—the reason that the rules would be changed for the rest of the group. if you’re lucky, you don’t have practice until day 2. i normally don’t possess such fortune.

practice. the only thing any of us have to report for. for my team, that was 10-11:30 conditioning and 3-4:30 field work every day, and twice in that week we had 7-8:30 to continue our progress. it’s exhilarating, the only way to describe it. but maybe that’s because i’m an addict and my drug of choice is the same as it was when i was 10. sprints are no fun but we’re together and we’re laughing, and i get so drunk off the buttercup yellow and fluorescent green swimming through the air around me that i don’t care about how i’m going to puke up a dining hall muffin or how my shirt is an entirely different shade from sweat or how my ankle definitely didn’t hurt like that before.

we indoctrinate the new people with our questions of your favorite smell and then tossing you the unwashed pennies (even though we’re a team that cheers when you make a bad shot because we just can’t get enough of each other), and we reminisce about the games of old and the teams that brought us to tears last year—how 10 called me a bitch for elbowing them and 4 laughed at me getting carded because that’s absolutely something 4 would do god what a prick but it’s okay i think they graduated—and the injuries that took people out and how they’re just not allowed to happen again.

and the playing. holy shiting fuck. being one of the callout defensive players on the team, i take it as the time to introduce myself to everyone and get my bearings of who i’m working with; who’ll listen to advice and who’ll give me that furrowed eyebrow look for daring to question their stance; who’s a baby deer walking on ice for the first time and how can i help make this just a little bit easier for them; who’s getting of play time and where will coach put them; who am i getting paired with a lot and how can i adapt to their play style.

((since being drafted as sweep, this is my goalie. and after one week of hours on end with each other, both of us with the same goal in every drill and joking beside each other when the offense are being run into the ground. last year, she became my son by day three and by day 5 we scrimmaged in matching bathing suits and i turf burned all down my arm, and even though we didn’t win she cites that as the moment i became her person.))

((this year? i’m not allowed to get concussed because she needs me. she needs me out there. i missed her first season and she told me i owed it to her and that we needed to form the same synchronization we barely brushed last year before the accident. for this one green, sky blue, and red-orange week of the year, that kid is my everything. her thoughts are my thoughts, my calls are hers. i promised her we would have it this year, so whatever may happen to me and my destructive tendencies both on and off the field, i’m giving it to her.))

i get pads and pads of paper and i draft roster after roster, trying to get into the head of my former advisor while giving advice she’ll never hear to as many people who will possibly listen to me. i wave my hands around over orange chicken and jasmine rice and blue gatorade and chick fil a milkshakes and talk only of the future, the school year, the season, my family and my team-family and ways that things are green and shiny and bright.

((something a coach said to me last year will always stick with me. when conferencing with me about my role on the team, she said that during the season but especially during preseason, my eyes never sparkle more.))

my favorite day is when it rains. every year there’s always one. the day everyone dreads but i ADORE. last year the power went out, and it got me out of everything but practice. i didn’t mind, though. i never could on rain days.

we’re all outside going through the same downpour and it’s cold and your tank top is sticking to you in the wind, but the air is hot so it’s refreshing. and it sucks to be out there in the rain with your soreness and your slightly off shots and your feet slipping all over the turf (or getting mud in places you’ll talk about only in the locker room) but your heart is absolutely glowing because you’re doing what you love with amazing people in the greatest place you’ve ever been and even if you eat shit 5–10–20 more times, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. because life is good. there’s something in life to look forward to, and it’s you and your team against the elements: training and fucking up and learning from it to grow and to be the best. your eyes are still shiny and you’re alight with heart fire.

because that’s really what preseason is about: heart fire. finding something that makes you feel good about yourself and feel strong and confident and together to just set you ablaze.

[tonycries]

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

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

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

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

Word count. 5.0k

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

“You’ve never what?”  

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

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

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

“Bye, crybaby.”

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

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

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

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

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

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

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

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

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

“Man, are you even listening?” 

Shit. 

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

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

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

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

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

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

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

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click! 

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

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

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

“Dad, I’m running away.”

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

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

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

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Cho.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know either of you two.”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know what you-”

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

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

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

Raising a brow, “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know…”

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

“Choso.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Use me.”

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

“Use me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?”

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

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

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

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

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

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

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

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

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

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

-Jin.

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

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

-Jin.

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

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

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

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

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

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

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

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

[jasontoddiefor]

Yeah sure we’ve all binged a long fic, but have you ever read a WIP and followed someone’s life?

Tidbits of information - (“I graduated today!”) - and small joys (“It’s my birthday!”) and you get to be there to say “This chapter made me cry, happy birthday, thank you for gifting us this”.

I remember reading this fic of someone at the end of high school, older than me then. They seemed infinitely wise, spoke of their future career and getting into the college they wanted. I remember them posting on days they felt like nothing could bring them down - and on days the whole world did and it’s the aftermath of a hospital visit. Cancer, I think it was, their father. I got to the end of the story, I know their father was fine, but also they got to finish their WIP. I graduated three years later than them, still dutifully wrote thank you notes in every comment. I wonder if they remember me, or just the collective of people reading the story as it updates.

Four years ago I was into my first year of university, my first year of figuring out being out in public spaces. I made excuses as to why my name didn’t match my paperwork and read a fic on the train, the same five chapters over and over again for the next years as I thought the story abandoned. It updated this week after such a long hiatus, I left another thank you comment.

There’s an author I love, they update their stories like a clockwork. When they don’t, I check their blog, just to see if their doing alright, not because I feel like they owe me, just to ensure whether I better get out my laptop to write that really detailed university level essay chapter analysis to get them smiling when their day sucked.

And then, once, when I was 17, I read a fic that hadn’t updated in over a decade. I wasn’t even in primary school when it started posting. On the last chapter, I left a comment that, in retrospect, was horribly rambly and most likely full of grammar mistakes. The author replied and though I couldn’t see their face, I thought of them crying. They were married now, had children, and hadn’t thought about this fic in years. They went through their files again, found another half written chapter and an outline. I got two new chapters to read that year.

And then, recently, someone told me they got back into writing original fiction because of my comments. I get to read nearly weekly chapters.

I love binge reading a finished fic, but nothing is ever going to top the feeling of anticipation of waiting for a chapter, the pure joy when someone tells you I was done with this, but you made me think of it again, so this is for you.

Anyway, I think we should romanticize reading WIPs more, growing up alongside the authors writing the stories we love.

[sharkieboi]

it’s my little brother’s birthday so I called him and we chatted for a very long time and made plans to play video games together and it made me very happy especially cause I know this last year has been very hard for him and it sounds like he’s doing better and !!! i’m just really happy for him and excited to try and virtually hang out with him more often!!!

[moongreenlight]

Have you ever seen that corny ass skit where it’s the girl talking to her husband asking him to fix things and he says “I’m not a plumber” “I’m not a carpenter” bla bla bla and then one day he comes home and the girl’s like “oh yeah I had the neighbor come over to fix the things you wouldn’t” and the neighbor says she can either bake him a cake or sleep with him as payment so the husband asks “so what kind of cake did you bake him?” And the girl says “I’m not a baker?”

Very much Neighbor!Price x stay-at-home-mom!reader coded :)

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Neighbor!Price who’s found a quiet little cul-de-sac to settle in when he’s got some time off. It’s a little neighborhood, mostly older people who’re thrilled to have a man like him around to help bring out bins and offer to mow their lawns or rake their leaves or shovel their drives when he’s around.

But somehow he’s found the only other younger family in the area living directly next to him. Parents are a few years his junior, and they’ve got two young kids. He assumes the boy, the older one, is early elementary age- sees you herding him into the car in the morning with a pack lunch and a backpack that’s nearly the same size as he is to and from the house in the morning and afternoon. And the girl, the younger, must be in pre-k, because she’s only out for half the day and doesn’t get the same pack lunch her brother gets.

He’s gotten to know you pretty well. When he’s around, the two of you will chat while you’re tending your garden and he’s working in his garage carrying out some odd project or another. He thinks you’re sweet. Likes the way you wear overalls with a little top when you’re planting flowers in the beds out front. How when you bend over or stand at the right angle he can imagine you’re not wearing a top at all.

He hates your husband. He’s crass and rude and never waves hello to any of the neighbors- odd for such a friendly little community. Leaves for work early and comes home late and leaves you to fend for yourself all day. Doesn’t know how to interact with you or your kids. And Price is almost certain he doesn’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked because his bedroom window looks over your living room and he’s caught you on the couch with your hand down your pants more times than could have been coincidence.

He’s known to be the neighborhood handyman. Got a little workshop set up in his garage and a general knowledge about nearly everything, so it’s not uncommon that he gets a knock on the door a few times a week. Usually it’s some of the older neighbors popping over to see if he can fix their TVs or help their grandkids connect to the Wi-Fi, but it’s a pleasant surprise when you turn up on his porch mid-morning.

You’re scrunching the ends of your soaking wet hair in a towel. Apologizing as soon as you hear him turn the deadbolt. Feverishly going on about how you must have blown a circuit in the bathroom trying to dry your hair and you’d usually be able to manage but your husband shoved a bookshelf in front of the breaker and you can’t get through to it.

He’s sweet about it. Always is, but especially for you. Follows you over to your place and promises you no less than ten times that it’s really no trouble. He’s happy to help. It’s a quick fix, but he drags it out as long as he can. Insists on following you up and down the stairs from the basement to the top floor twice to make sure everything’s working properly.

He notices that the bathroom door sticks and that the fire alarm in the hallway is chirping from a low battery. You apologize for the toys in the living room and the clean laundry pile on the couch and the state of your house. Say that your husband is racking up a hefty to-do list with a small laugh that’s just a bit too forced.

He’s thrilled to tell you that he’s got some free time later in the week and says he’ll come over if only to help out your husband. Makes some backhanded remark about how your husband is clearly a busy lad. You refuse- of course- sweet thing that you are, but he turns up the next day after you’ve taken your kids to school anyway.

He tails you up the drive so there’s no way you can shut him out. Shushes you when you try to apologize for one reason or another and takes off to fix not only the sticky bathroom door and the fire alarm batteries, but also the dripping kitchen faucet and the garbage disposal that’s been broken for months.

You try to stay clear of whatever room he’s working in, chirping short responses to whatever nonsense question he asked in an attempt to lure you over. It was only when he was about to head out and he saw you leaning on the dryer to keep it shut that he saw his golden opportunity.

You were clearly trying to hide it, but even with a small load of clothes in, it sounded like you’d thrown a pair of boots into a tin garbage pail and shook it hard as you could. You tried to shoo him off, but he wasn’t having any of it.

There’s enough skirting around the subject to give you chance to turn down his advances, but when he realizes you’re not outright telling him to go fuck himself, he’s essentially taking it as a challenge to see if he can’t push you to that point.

Hoists you up on the still clanging machine and pushes between your legs on the weak pretense of needing you there to keep the door shut while he works. The machine shook the straps of your top down off your shoulders and made him acutely aware of the fact that you hadn’t had the time to put on a bra yet. It made his pants near painfully tight on the crotch.

He’d try and make idle chat. Your kids and plans for the day, but it’s entirely too hard for him to focus on anything other than the way your thighs are pressing together as the dry cycle started to bang the machine around more. He makes a light comment about how he’s not sure how you get anything done around the house with the dryer in this state. Your laugh is breathy.

And when he leans over you to reach to the back of the machine, he can feel the way your soft panting breaths fan his neck. Confirms his suspicions.

“Alright?”

You’re chewing the inside of your lip while you nod. Clearly starved for stimulation if all it takes is a dry cycle to get you off. Poor thing.

It’s stuffy in the laundry room. Adds to the appeal. Makes your shorts ride up and stick to your legs. Your thighs are dewy and glide together when you shift under his gaze.

“You sure, doll?”

The two of you are almost nose-to-nose. You’re leaned back, caged in by his big arms that look even bigger in his almost obscenely tight shirt. He’s smiling. Letting his eyes wander to your collarbones. The way your throat bobbed when you swallowed.

Before you could choke out your answer, the dryer stopped. Chimed the alert and slowly stilled. You took a shaky breath and nodded once more, looking like you couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved. He backed off, stretched out his hand to help you down.

You lead him to the kitchen. Ask if you can get him anything. Tea or food. He declines. You say something about stopping to get cash when you’re out picking up your daughter in a couple hours. He declines again.

“John, really, I appreciate your help. You have to let me get you back.”

You’re filling the kettle with water anyway, leaned just slightly over the sink. He knows it’s impolite to stare, but he’s never had very good manners when it came to things like that.

“Bake me a cake or somethin’, then. Sleep with me. Won’t take your money, though.”

You whirl around and end up sloshing some water down your front. Doesn’t seem to phase you. Your eyebrows are damn near at your hairline.

“I don’t know if that’s appropriate, considering…”

He snorts a soft laugh. It’s kind- not at all suggestive. Like he’s playing off a clever joke.

“What? Baking me a cake?”

You purse your lips and set the kettle on the stove.

“Never been a very good baker.”

He about hurdles the kitchen island like he’s running track.

“That right?”

You make a thoughtful sound before clicking on the burner. He can see you biting back a smile. You finally turn to face him. Leaned back on your hands with your head cocked slightly to the side.

“I just don’t know that it would be appropriate given our- my- situation.”

It’s his turn to hum and nod. Take a few steps forward, slow and slinky like a predator stalking toward its prey.

“Sure.”

You chew your bottom lip. Try to find some resolve in fussing with your wedding ring. It’s horrible. Small. He can’t help but think about how he’d be able to get you a much better one. He takes a few more steps forward.

“It’s complicated, John.”

Your voice is mousy now.

“I know.”

A few more steps forward and he’s back nose-to-nose with you. Pinning you against the counter.

“I just-“

“Then tell me to go home.”

The button of his jeans grazes your groin and sends sparks up your spine. You recoil slightly, but he’s got his massive hands on your wrists to keep you in place.

“My husb-“

“Don’t. S’not what I said. Tell me to go home. Tell me to go home, and I’ll leave. S’easy as that.”

The coarse hair of his beard brushes along your jaw. Visible goosebumps rise all the way up your neck and down your arms.

“John, he-“

A throaty growl from him.

“He’s not getting a lick of you.”

And then somehow he’s got you on your back on the couch. Shoved off the pile of laundry and pushed you down. His eyes are near pitch black and hungry. Ravenous. He tears off your shorts. Doesn’t wait for you to hoist your hips, just yanks so hard that you’re a little worried you’ll get thrown off the couch with them.

He is wretched. Planting wet kisses from the inside of your knee all the way up to your sex frustratingly slow. Big hands splayed over your hips to keep you from bucking up into his mouth. He’s got this maddeningly smug smile on his face like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to say I told you so. Like he knew this was going to happen from the start, you were just too stupid to see.

Your underwear is embarrassingly wet from your little go on the dryer. Your pussy puffy and sensitive underneath. You whine when he kisses over the damp spot. Laves his tongue over your folds without pulling them to the side. He makes some comment about the state of you that borders on snarky, but you choose to ignore it.

When he finally does rid you of your panties, there’s a moment of clarity where you realize what you’re doing. You push up on your elbows and try to roll out from under him, but he gives your clit a mean slap that forces you back onto the couch and ends your protest. Sends you to that liminal, clouded headspace where all you can focus on is how desperately you need to come.

It’s clear he’s savoring the moment. Running the point of his tongue through your folds. Teasing at your hole. Artfully swirling around your clit, but never close enough to give you the friction you’re so desperately craving. Planting hot, wet kisses on your inner thighs. Leaves a few love bites in his wake like he’s boasting; so certain your husband wouldn’t get close enough to notice that he had no problem decorating you as he pleased.

You’re a mess. Being taken apart stitch by stitch. Panting and whining and begging for more. Your orgasm is coiling tight under your belly without him having to do much. Any other time you’d have felt a little pathetic, but you were too preoccupied to care now.

He finally brings his hands up and you think he’s about to stuff you full, but he only lets his fingers drag slowly along your sensitive sex. Collects some of your arousal and pulls it up toward your naval. Watches the goosebumps form under his touch.

He rucks your shirt up with his free hand and immediately wraps his lips around your pebbled nipples. Tongues at them. Lets his teeth graze teasingly over them. And whatever one he’s not got currently in his mouth, he’s working his fingers over. Pinching and flicking until you’re teary eyed and squirming under him.

And then finally, fucking finally, he ducks back down and fixes his mouth on your clit. Sucks gently on the swollen bud for just a moment and then companies his mouth with two fingers bullying their way inside you.

The stretch is almost uncomfortable in its suddenness, but you quickly get used to it. The pleasure is blinding. Forces you to throw your head back against the cushion and screw your eyes tightly shut. A string of high, needy moans float through your gaped lips.

He’s sweet, Jesus, is he. Hums and groans with his mouth still on your bundle of nerves. Pulls away just enough to tell you how pretty your pussy is taking him before going back to work on your sensitive clit. You want to scream. You think you may actually come entirely undone on this couch if he doesn’t stop.

And then your orgasm coils so tightly within you that it explodes outward. Tears through you and leaves every square inch of your skin sizzling. He doesn’t let up. Pins you down by the stomach with his forearm and continues down his warpath. The sounds his fingers make when they sink into you are so pornographic that it makes your face hot.

You eventually find it in you to warble out something that sounded like please, too much. And he pulled off, still with that smug grin pulling his lips now surrounded by glistening slick caught in the hair of his beard.

He gives you one last kiss. Lewd and wet and so searing hot you’re worried it will actually blister the sensitive flesh of your cunt. He’ll sit back on his haunches and fuss with the button and zipper of his jeans before saying something horrible and cheeky like

“C’mon, doll. Thought you were set on payin’ me back.”

[riverside-lavender]

if i see one more fucking thing ever about having to be blood related to be siblings/family i am going to fucking SNAP. i don’t CARE if you’re talking about fictional characters and the found family trope- guess what assholes! adoption exists! and step siblings! god who fucking cares if people call themselves family when they aren’t blood related they’re literally minding their own business. maybe stop and think before you say something about a few drawings because guess what dipshit people in similar circumstances might see that!